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"Hey, Dad!" I greeted, placing a kiss on his cheek as I walked into the house. "Going out?" I asked, noticing that he was dressed up more than usual, wearing a crisp shirt and polished shoes. "Just for a while," he replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. It was clear he was seeing someone, but I sensed he wasn't quite ready to talk about it yet.

"Okay, well, while you're out, I have a friend coming over in a few," I said, starting to tidy up the living room, picking up stray magazines and fluffing the cushions. "Will?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "No, a new friend," I replied. "Alright, just don't get into any trouble," he said with a chuckle, grabbing his car keys and heading out the door.

I tidied up the house a bit, including picking up the messy clothes scattered on my bedroom floor. I changed into a pair of pajama bottoms and a tank top, feeling more comfortable. After a few minutes, there was a knock at the door. "Coming!" I shouted, heading for the door. I opened it to see Max standing there, holding a new skateboard with a bright, colorful design.

"Can I come in?" Max asked. 

I nodded and she followed me inside. She paused in the middle of the living room, glancing around. I couldn't tell if she was judging or just curious. "It's cozy in here," she said, her voice warm. "Thanks," I replied with a smile, feeling a bit more at ease.

"Smells good in here. Are you baking something?" she asked, sniffing the air appreciatively. "Yeah, cookies," I answered. I would've burnt them if she hadn't said anything. I carefully placed the cookies onto a plate, their warm, sweet aroma filling the kitchen, and poured two glasses of cold milk. The cookies were still hot, but that's what the milk was for—to cool them down. I set the plate and the glasses on the kitchen table, the condensation from the milk glasses forming small puddles.

"Cookies are done," I called out. Max made her way into the kitchen, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the freshly baked treats. She took one off the plate and bit into it, her face scrunching up slightly.

"Hot," she winced, blowing on the cookie.

I smiled, handing her a glass of milk. "That's what the milk is for," I said.

We sat in awkward silence for a moment, both of us trying to figure out what to say next. "So, what do we do now?" she asked, breaking the tension. I wondered why she was asking, considering she was the one who wanted to meet here, but somehow, I had an answer for her. "We set some ground rules," I said. She made a face, clearly not thrilled with the idea. "Like what?" she asked. I walked over to the junk drawer in the kitchen and took out some notepads. 

"For example: no kissing," I said, jotting it down on the notepad. "How are people supposed to believe we're dating if we don't kiss?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "We'll figure it out," I replied, trying to sound confident. What she said next took me by surprise. "Okay, but I have to touch you," she said. I made a face, and she scoffed. "Not like that," she clarified quickly. "I mean like holding hands, kissing each other on the cheek, or cuddling—things like that." She explained, her tone softening. I nodded, understanding her point, and wrote all these things down. 

"No sharing drinks," I said firmly. The thought of it made me uneasy—what if someone accidentally backwashed and I didn't even know? I never shared drinks with anyone, not even Mike. "Okay, sure," she said, her lips twitching into a small smile. "And no falling in love," she added, her tone turning serious. That was our number one rule. I didn't know why she had set it—it was something I sort of already knew. 

Max was pretty, gorgeous even, but I couldn't imagine myself being with her, like for real. I didn't swing that way—not that I have a problem with it; people should love who they want. I had thought about what it would be like being with a girl back in early middle school, but that was normal. Sometimes you start to wonder about those things. But now, I couldn't see myself being with a girl, not even Maxine Mayfield. 





The idea just didn't fit who I was.

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