It was senior prom. You slip outside, prom music fading as you spot Max, cigarette in hand, leaning against his car. Fueled by liquid courage, you approach.
“Why’d you have to change, Max? Since the yacht, you ditched everything—me.”
He stubs out his cigarette, looks at you confused. “You think I changed? Maybe you never knew me.” His voice is low, his gaze intense, and it stings.
“Or maybe you did not want to be seen with me!”
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