42. Elody

42ELODY

I find him sitting on the beach, staring out at the water.

“Max!”

He doesn’t turn around, and my hand starts to shake. I hold my flashlight tighter, walking toward him.

“Max.” I say it like a demand, and this time, he looks at me with this blank sort of expression, like I’m just a shadow or the wind. Then, he looks back out at the sea.

“I said don’t follow me.”

“Sorry, babe. But you’re kind of not the boss of me.” I sit next to him, holding my flashlight between my knees so it shines out at the water, making it look all purple and spooky.

For a few seconds, we don’t talk. Max watches the waves, and I watch them reflecting in his glasses.

“Why’d you come after me?” he asks.

“Because I’m pretty sure Logan’s a murderer and I don’t really want to hang out with her.”

Max turns to me with a look on his face that I’ve never seen before. Sadness mixed with something else. Something scarier.

“What makes you so sure it’s not me?” he asks.

My heart starts to beat faster. Those DMs, the way he exploded when he got caught … I’ve always known there’s something dark about Max Overby. And maybe that should make me turn and run, but I can’t. Because his darkness goes perfectly with mine.

I smile. “No offense, babe, but I don’t think you’re the murdering type.”

He makes a sound that’s kind of a laugh, but kind of not. For a minute, he doesn’t say anything, just digs his fingers into the sand, making tiny circles. When he talks again, it’s so quiet, I almost don’t hear him.

“It’s my fault.”

My heart skips a beat. I look at him, the sharp lines of his face in the dark.

“What?”

“Kira,” he says, his voice all low and thick, like he’s going to cry.

“No, it isn’t.”

He looks at me, a movie-perfect tear rolling down his cheek. “Yes, it is.”

“Why are you so obsessed with her?”

Max blinks. “What?”

I spit it out like poison. “You’re so obsessed with her and she never even liked you. I mean, look at how she reacted when she saw those DMs.”

His face changes so quickly, it scares me. All that sadness disappears until it’s just anger. I hold my breath, my heart beating against my ribs, but I don’t look away. I stare into his eyes like I’m daring him to come at me. For a second, I think he will.

He stands and starts walking to the water.

“Max—”

“She could still be out there.” He takes off his shoes and his glasses, tosses them away, and wades into the waves.

“Stop it.” I get up. “She’s not…” He doesn’t stop. He goes until the water’s up to his waist. “Max!”

He dives under, and my heart starts to beat faster. Farther out, he splashes back up to the surface for air, and then goes back down again. But it’s too long. I count ten, twenty seconds, and then, letting out every curse word I can think of, I take off my shoes and go into the water, farther and farther until the sand disappears from under my feet.

The sea is warm and so dark that I can’t see the bottom. I pump my arms, trying to stay afloat, to figure out what the hell to do, because Max might literally be drowning.

But then he crashes through the surface, gasping, a few feet away. I kick over to him just as he starts swimming back to shore. I swim after him, the waves breaking against my shoulders, pushing me forward, until we’re both climbing out onto the sand. We stand with our hands on our knees, catching our breath, our bodies heavy.

He takes a deep breath, and then turns around like he’s going back in.

“Wait.” I grab his hand.

He fights me, but weakly. I pull him back, away from the water, until finally, he looks me in the eyes, both of us breathing hard.

There’s nothing special about Max Overby. He’s just a dumb boy. A hot, dumb boy who cares too much about stupid things. He’s the kind of boy I like to chew up and spit right out, the kind of boy I could totally break, but for some reason, it’s always been the opposite with us.

Now, I know why. It’s this look, the one on his face right now. The determination. This totally obvious, doomed need to find this girl in the sea. And that’s what I’ve always wanted: for that look to be for me.

He pulls away from me again, and I tug him back.

“Wait.”

“Let me go.” Max tries to fight me off, but I pull harder. “Elody.”

“Just wait!”

He stops. I reach up for his shoulders, holding him there, my breath shallow and my heart going crazy.

“You need to let her go,” I tell him. “Okay?”

“But I need to—”

“You need to let her go.”

For a second, he stares at me. Then, his face breaks. When he talks, his voice is thick and quiet, so low I almost can’t hear. “I know.”

Slowly, I reach out and brush his wet hair behind his ears, his skin hot under my hand.

“You know what your problem is?” I tell him. “You tell yourself stories.”

Max looks at me with this empty, confused look, but he doesn’t say anything, so I keep going.

“I get it. It’s why you do the documentaries, right? You’re obsessed. You need to go and go until it’s finished. Until it’s perfect. But the thing is, you’re trying to control it, and that never works. You tell yourself stories. And they’re not real, babe.”

I trace my hand down from the small space behind his ear to his neck, his pulse beating against my palm.

“Do you know how I know that?” I ask him.

He just shakes his head.

I lean in and whisper, “Because I do the same thing.”

Max closes his eyes. “Why do you like me so much?”

I get this feeling in my skin like I’m growing spikes, and step back. “Um, okay. Someone has a bit of an ego.”

His eyes open. “Elody.”

I swallow, heat rushing to my face, because he’s right. So was Logan, with her stupid, smug face. I always run after him. It’s sad as hell, but I keep doing it. But it’s also funny, all of a sudden. I laugh, a smile warming my lips.

“Because,” I tell him, taking his chin in my hand, soft but firm, making him look at me. Look at me. “We’re the same kind of fucked up.”

When I kiss him, he doesn’t fight it. Max melts into me, until we’re melting together, down to the sand, me on top of him, and it’s so much better this way, the two of us alone, without everyone watching. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted, but it’s not, because Max is opening his eyes, putting a hand gently on my shoulder. Pushing me away.

“Why do you like me so much?” he asks again, more firmly.

I laugh, tracing a finger over his bottom lip. “Come on, babe. I’ve wanted you since the day I met you.”

And that’s when I see the rock in his hand.