That was a bad idea. But having him standing in the hallway was an even worse idea. I opened the door wider, and he walked in. He moved to lean against the desk, his arms crossed. Max was in a mood.
“I’m not leaving here until you tell me the truth.”
“What truth?”
“The truth about why you did a 180 and f****d off.”
Oh. That truth. “I’ve been busy.”
“Bullshit.” His eyes narrowed on my face. “What did your mom say about me?”
“What makes you think she said anything?”
“She busted us at the party and next thing I know, you can’t even look at me.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“What did she say about me?” The tendons of Max’s muscles stood out and his jaw clenched.
I realized Max thought I was avoiding him because of something Mom had said about him. Something bad or unsavory. Which made
