A Maxley Story

Chapter 3

Max blinked awake, his eyes adjusting to the stillness of his dorm room.

It was only 7:15 a.m., much earlier than he usually stirred. The room was drenched in darkness, the blackout curtains Bobby had insisted on hanging after finals cutting out any hint of daylight.

"Men need their beauty sleep too," Bobby had announced when he was putting them up.

He'd claimed he needed to hibernate after the "grueling" and "inhumane" stress he had been under. Max had found the whole thing kind of amusing, especially Bobby's insistence that no one should even consider waking him up before noon unless they came bearing food.

Though Max would usually still be deep in sleep for another few hours, today felt different.

The weight of finals had lifted, but the thoughts that had been swirling in his head since the X Games refused to settle.

He fumbled for his phone on the nightstand, its glow cutting through the room like a blade. Even in the dark, his thumb instinctively found the TikTok icon, his mind craving distraction. Something to mute the thoughts clawing at him.

The first few videos he scrolled past were unremarkable—mindless snippets of people dancing, low-quality skateboarding tutorials, and the latest viral challenges.

But his brain was elsewhere. Somewhere far from the dorm room, the exams, the skate parks. He considered getting up and taking a shower, hoping the water might wash away some of the tension creeping in. But the communal bathroom on his floor was closed for repairs—another casualty of finals week.

Apparently, someone had gotten too drunk, as usual, and thought smashing a mirror and spray-painting the walls was a fitting celebration. Now, everyone left on his floor was stuck using the bathroom two levels up, which, for Max, felt like far too much of a hassle when all he really wanted was a moment of peace.

Usually, a skate session would clear his mind, but it was too early for that, and his muscles still protested the thought of moving.

Instead, he stayed in bed, letting his thoughts drift as he scrolled aimlessly on his phone.

A video popped up on his feed—"The Most Regretted College Majors."

Max barely registered it at first, but then his eyes caught something familiar: Communications, his major, glaring at him from the screen as the second-most regretted choice. Right below psychology, his backup plan.

Great, he thought, letting the video play out as the voice-over rattled off reasons why communications was a dead end for most people. Not exactly the reassurance he was hoping for this morning.

Max had been toying with the idea of switching majors for a while, but he didn't know what he wanted to do. Freshman year didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things—he'd taken a psych course and a creative writing class. His advisor had reassured him that both would count as general electives if he changed his major. But still, he needed to make up his mind soon or risk being a super senior.

The thought of needing to apply for internships next summer sent a ripple of anxiety through him.

At least he had some time before that reality hit. This summer was a toss-up. He just needed to save up enough money to cover his personal expenses, room, and board. But the pressure to figure out what came next loomed over him like a shadow.

He often considered becoming a resident assistant (RA) next year. Free housing, a stipend—it seemed like a decent deal.

But Tank had quickly shot down that idea during the X Games after-party. According to Tank, being an RA was a horrible idea—constant weird hours, dealing with drunk freshmen, late-night phone calls, and, as Tank had so eloquently put it, "good luck bringing home a sweetheart to a dirty freshman dorm."