Max’s blonde curly locks look nice, and I’m glad Avery let Nick style things for the kid. She mentioned that he’s starting school, and I know from the small bits from Ray that she’s nervous about it. Max walks ahead of us up to Dusty’s, eager to get inside and count out the candies he earned from finishing his hair cut.

I start to talk at least a dozen times, but I choke on my words every time, so I just follow Avery up the steps to the front door. We’re almost inside when she pauses with her hand flat on the door, her damn lip back between her teeth.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice so quiet, I almost don’t hear it. But I do.

“Don’t mention it,” I say, shrugging off the attention. I don’t like to feel intimate attention, I’d much rather be the person giving it.

“No,” she says, turning to face me. I’m suddenly aware of the small distance between us, and I can tell from her quick breath that she is too. She’s boxed in by the door, and I know I could back up and give us some room, but I’m having a hard time getting my feet to move. Avery looks down at her feet, her nerves literally radiating from her body.

“No, Mason,” she says, her breath hitching slightly, and I realize then that she’s trying not to cry. “Thank you. You have no idea…just having someone else there. Just…thank you.”

Her eyes crawl up to meet mine slowly, and the look on her face breaks my heart. The tears are pooling just above the faint freckles on her cheek, and a single blink forces them to slide down her face. Without even thinking, I raise my hand to her right cheek and stop the trail of one with my thumb, slowly sliding it away, but leaving my hand there on her face, probably longer than I should.

I start to think that I would be perfectly content just to stand right here, right like this, for the rest of the afternoon, when the door swings open behind her, and the face that greets me is suddenly the last one I want to see.

“Hey, f**ktard!” shouts Ben, the drummer in my band, breaking apart any moment I was possibly having with Avery. In the brief second before Ben pulls me inside, I notice the painful look on Avery’s face as her eyes shut tightly, and all I want to do is punch my best friend in the gut and run away with her.

She’s gone within seconds, and so is Max. My band mates are on their second pitcher of beer, and talking about our set next week at Dusty’s—and inside, I want to protest and tell them I’m going on alone. But I just sit there and stare at the place where Avery was standing minutes ago, just nodding and smiling and pretending I’m glad to see them.

And two days ago, I would have been.

Chapter 8: Just Another Day at the Office

Avery

I’m glad Mason’s band showed up. When Ben opened that door, it probably stopped me from doing something really stupid. I’m sure I’m going to fail the “lit” paper I worked on Sunday afternoon, because I can’t remember a single thing I wrote. My head was too busy being stuck on Mason, and what he did for Max. And I don’t have time to be stuck on anything other than what it takes to start and finish my day.

Claire called me during her shift to warn me that the entire band was there. They started drinking at Dusty’s earlier this afternoon—all of them. She said they weren’t too rowdy, but that one of them offered her $100 to sleep with her. I laughed—that sounds like Ben. He’s the only one of the group other than Mason that I know.

Ben went to our high school. He was a bit of an outsider at first—played in the school band and was always into theater, but usually kept to himself. He was a great drummer, though—and that’s why he and Mason hit it off. Ben was the first member of Mason’s band, and our senior year, he used to play with him at Dusty’s. When he started hanging out with Mason, he started going to more parties and dating more girls—his social status sort of shot through the roof.

He was always the first one to laugh when Mason called me Birdie. What’s sad is before that, Ben and I were kind of friends.

Max starts school tomorrow. We had his final one-on-one session today with Jenny, and she spent most of our two hours together reassuring me that Max is ready. I don’t know, though. I don’t think Max will ever be ready. But I guess I have to try, right? I have to let him try.

I took tomorrow off. I knew I wouldn’t be able to focus. I let my English professor know, too, and she gave me an advance of the assignment so I don’t have to go to class—not that I’ll be able to gather my thoughts enough for that, either. Great, that’s two failed assignments I can count on.