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Whatever that asshole frat boy had sold him is bad news, Max is starting to realize that now.
He probably should've realized it sooner - if nothing else then the slicked back hair, toothpick and the letterman jacket on the jerkwad selling drugs at a high school calamity party should've given it away. But unfortunately, Max simply didn't want to pay attention to context clues tonight. Not those, anyway.
He was told the tiny white pill he'd swallowed would make him feel powerful, unstoppable, confident - not that Max Hastings needs any more confidence, seeing as how 'cocky' and 'insufferable' are his middle names, but I digress.
This will definitely be the last time he so casually accepts a pill from a frat boy. And here's precisely why.
Because that power he's supposed to be feeling is actually blinding rage. Anger, fury and rage. All because Naomi is laughing at another one of Sal's jokes he personally finds stupid. Ok, that's a bit cruel even for Max. He doesn't find his best friend's jokes stupid - merely eye roll worthy. But hearing Naomi laugh so heartedly at them, giving Sal those puppy dog eyes, it makes him wanna puke. And no it's not due to the excessive alcohol he's consumed in conjunction with the mystery pill.
It's just nauseating seeing a girl he has been pining after freshman year be so head over heels for a guy who's never given her any sort of attention to warrant that. If anything he treats her like a little sister. And Max doesn't know who he's more mad at - at Naomi for being so blind to his interest and Sal's disinterest or at Sal for wasting a chance he himself has been wishing for for literal years.
By the fourth time Naomi's hand 'accidentally' grazes Sal's Max is out in the backyard fuming. Literally and figuratively because he borrowed a cigarette from some random girl on the way out and was quick to shut down her drunken advances.
That's how Naomi finds him - leaned up against the wall, cigarette between his lips, blue eyes on fire as they glare off into the night.
"Hey...you ok?" Her voice disturbs his faux tranquility just as he's about to take an angry puff from the cigarette. Seeing that it's her damn near makes him inhale the whole cigarette though.
"I'm fine" He says, redirecting his gaze into nothingness once more.
"Something wrong?" Naomi helplessly tries to get through to him again, knowing damn well that he's all but fine. The furthest thing from fine and beyond.
"Nope. All cool." His brain is hotter than a spoon in a crack-house but he's got one thing that's indeed cool - his tone is icy, a cutting edge to it that Naomi should mind if she's gonna continue this conversation although Max really thinks she shouldn't.
And she agrees with him on that. But when has she ever been one to listen to her better judgement, especially inebriated.
"You sure? You seem...off?"
And the cork is popped off.
"Wanna talk about 'off', Nai? You wanna know what's off, or straight-up wrong even?" He tosses the cigarette, pushing off the wall but making no effort to approach her. He doesn't wanna crowd her space or scare her. He just wants to let it all out and deflate himself before drinking his liver dead. And if it ruins their friendship, then so be it. But never once does he want her to fear him. "Fawning and throwing yourself at a guy who has zero interest in you. A guy who's in a relationship. A guy we tease for being a puppy to his girlfriend when you're behaving the same way for him. What? You think if you do your tricks right you'll get a treat? A smidge of his attention?"
His words shoot out into the quiet backyard, silencing even the crickets in the nearby bushes. Word after word, bullet after bullet that can't be un-shot, can't be unsaid. Just like the tears that have started spilling down Naomi's face - tears she can't un-cry. Tears he wants to kick himself for provoking but it's too late. We're very well acquainted with Max's lack of foresight at this point.
"W-what....what is wrong with you? Why would you fucking say that?!" She eventually snaps after a long pause filled with silent apologies Max just couldn't push past the lump in his throat.
Prompted by Naomi's voice, he finds his own, "Nai...listen, I'm sorry....I-I didn't....I didn't mean it like that...I just hate seeing you doing this to yourself! You make yourself small to fit in his pocket! You make yourself laugh when you know damn well you don't feel like it and we both fucking know Sal isn't that funny, come on!"
He takes a hesitant step forward, wishing he could go back in time just five minutes and rip his own voice box out to prevent this disaster. But it's done, and she's wiping her tears with the back of her hand, not willing to even look at him as she forces out a response that sounds more hurt than angry. "Yeah but he's never made me cry. Can't say the same about you." Her eyes meet his for one fierce second before she turns to leave with one more bitterly spoken parting sentence: "Fuck you, Max."
Like the idiot he is, he watches her go. He stands like a potted plant for a good minute before some rational and semi-sober part of him sends him lunging forward and back into the party.
He's quick to find Sal, Millie and Jake but no Naomi in sight.
"Where's-"
Sal already knows. Of course he does, he's known for some time now. He can see the way Max's eyes seem to find Naomi no matter who else is around, no matter where they are or what they're doing. He'd have to be blind in both eyes to not notice the smile that follows whenever he catches glimpse of her.
"She dashed off home. She said Cara called with a family emergency or someth..."
He doesn't stick around long enough for Sal to finish his sentence. Those are precious seconds he'd be wasting. Seconds he's already wasted because she's long gone by the time he makes it out to the lawn.
And in his defeat, that's where he wants to remain - on this very lawn where she'd hugged him as they arrived to the party just three hours ago. The last hug he'll probably ever receive from her.