CHAPTER THREE
1214 Words
~ Avery’s POV ~
The sun hadn't even cleared the tops of the trees yet, but Avery was already wide awake.
She lay on her side, eyes open, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. The soft hum of morning birds drifted through the cracked window, the air still cool with leftover spring chill. This wasn’t the city. There were no sirens in the distance. No late-night traffic. Just quiet.
Too quiet.
She rolled over and checked her phone. 6:47 AM. No new texts. Not even Lena, who usually woke up with chaotic energy and at least three memes to share by now.
Avery sighed and pushed herself upright. Her room still looked like it belonged to a stranger—a suitcase half-unpacked, books stacked awkwardly on the desk, no pictures on the walls yet. She didn’t feel like this was hers. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
She padded over to the window, pulling the curtain aside. From here, she could just barely see the edge of the backyard. Neatly mowed lawn, a tired-looking swing set, and a tall privacy fence that bordered the neighbors' yards. Everything was just... in place. Perfect and quiet. And she didn’t fit in any of it.
A muffled thud from across the hall caught her attention. Max was up.
Her pulse kicked slightly.
She told herself it was just curiosity. Just natural discomfort from sharing a space with someone new. But she couldn’t ignore the awareness she felt every time he was near—even if “near” was just the other side of a door.
They hadn’t spoken since yesterday. He’d vanished into his room after their stilted introduction and hadn’t emerged for dinner, which meant she ate pasta with her dad and Cheryl while Max remained a mystery behind a slab of wood and silence.
She threw on a hoodie and jeans, tied her hair into a messy bun, and crept into the hallway. Max’s door was open.
She slowed.
He was inside, bent over a drawer, pulling out a black t-shirt and shaking out the wrinkles. His hair was still damp from the shower, curling slightly at the ends. He hadn't noticed her yet—or maybe he had and didn’t care.
“Morning,” she offered, her voice slightly hoarse.
Max glanced up. “Morning.”
One word. Same unreadable face. But this time, he didn’t bolt.
She leaned against the doorway. “You heading to school?”
“Yeah.”
A beat.
“I’m starting next week,” she said, like that would somehow bridge the silence. “They’re still processing the transfer stuff.”
He nodded. “Cool.”
Avery bit the inside of her cheek. Cool. What was she supposed to say to that?
Max grabbed a silver ring from the top of his dresser and slipped it onto his index finger before scooping his phone and keys into his pocket.
“Do you… like it here?” she blurted, not sure why she asked.
Max looked at her again. This time, his brow twitched—surprise? Amusement?
“It’s fine,” he said. “Better than our last place.”
“Oh. Where was that?”
“Maryland.”
She opened her mouth to ask something else—how long he lived there, why they left—but he was already brushing past her, walking backward toward the stairs. “See you later.”
The moment he disappeared, she let out a breath.
He wasn’t mean. He wasn’t cold, exactly. Just... reserved. Like someone who learned to keep his guard up at all times. She knew that feeling.
She went downstairs a few minutes later and found Cheryl at the kitchen island, typing furiously into her laptop, a steaming mug of coffee beside her.
“Morning, Avery,” she said brightly. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Yeah,” she lied. “The bed’s comfy.”
Cheryl smiled warmly. She had this peaceful, suburban mom energy—floral mugs, flowy tops, hair always in a neat twist. It made Avery feel even more out of place.
“There’s cereal, yogurt, bagels… help yourself.”
Avery nodded and poured herself a bowl of cereal, eating quietly at the counter. Cheryl didn’t ask about Max, and Avery didn’t bring him up. It was like there was an unspoken agreement not to touch that subject.
The rest of the day dragged. She tried to unpack more of her room but gave up halfway through. The walls still felt too blank, and the silence felt heavier than before. She ended up texting Lena for a while, sending photos of her new space and complaining about the lack of street noise.
Around three, she wandered into the backyard, sitting on the creaky swing at the edge of the lawn. She dragged her feet slowly across the grass, staring at the sky.
She didn’t hear the back door open. Didn’t realize she wasn’t alone until she glanced to the left and saw Max standing there, a half-empty water bottle in one hand.
Their eyes met.
“Didn’t think anyone else came back here,” he said.
“I needed air.”
He nodded like he understood. Then, to her surprise, he came closer, lowering himself onto the other swing.
They sat in silence for a few seconds, the kind that felt heavy and full of things unspoken.
“You always this quiet?” she asked, half teasing.
He looked down at his shoes. “Not always. Just depends who I’m around.”
She smiled faintly. “So I’m just that special?”
That earned her a small smirk. It was the first real expression she’d seen on him—and it changed everything. It made him look younger. Softer. Almost approachable.
“Maybe,” he said.
Avery looked forward again, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest. This was weird. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She was supposed to just coexist with him. Not notice how his voice got a little lower when he was relaxed. Not feel the shift in the air when he looked at her like that.
“You and my dad—are you cool?” she asked, gently.
Max was quiet a long moment. “He’s alright. Better than the last one.”
That caught her off guard. “Last one?”
“My mom’s ex. He wasn’t great.”
Avery didn’t push. She could read the tension in his posture, the way he leaned forward, elbows on knees, like the weight of old memories still sat on his back.
They fell into another silence, but this one felt less awkward. More comfortable, in a strange way.
“You’re not what I expected,” he said suddenly.
Avery turned to look at him. “What do you mean?”
“I dunno. I thought you’d be more… fake. Like i********:-perfect.”
She laughed. “Wow. Thanks.”
“No, I mean… you seem real. That’s all.”
It wasn’t exactly a compliment, but the way he said it made something inside her warm.
“Same to you,” she replied. “I thought you’d be an asshole.”
He snorted, and for the first time, they both laughed.
Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be so impossible after all.
- Writer
