y mother's words echo through the silence. The rest of the guests have stopped knocking back champagne long enough to watch things unfold, and from the look on my parents' faces, they are furious.

I tear my eyes away from my mom's, spotting Marnie's smug smirk in the crowd. She's standing by Justin, who is revelling in my family's downfall, and that's all it takes. I snatch my hand from my mother's grip and push past the security guards before running out onto the driveway.

But he's gone.

Heart pounding, I head through the security gates and scan the street for his car, but the place is empty. There's a moment of panic where I consider going back inside. It's not like I have the keys to my car or anywhere to go, but going inside means accepting the way those people treated Max, and that's something I'll never do.

Instead, I pull out my phone from my little black clutch bag and try to call Max, but he won't answer. Either he doesn't hear it ringing, or tonight has scared him away for good; all I can do is pray it's the former. I call a few more times before admitting defeat and call for an Uber instead.

Maybe it's stupid, but I input the address for Hayden's gym – the only place I can think of to go. A place I feel safe. Of course, there'll be no one there at this time to let me inside, but I don't want to show up at Max's house. He might not want to see me if he's even there at all, and if Kino spots me, it'll just make everything worse.

Despite feeling pathetic – it's clear he doesn't want to talk to me anymore – I send Max a message that says:

Then I tuck my phone back into my clutch bag and stare at the empty road. The seconds drag by slowly, and the wait gives me time to overthink. My eyes burn with tears, not just because Max probably hates me right now, but because my family does too. And that's the worst thing about it, the part I can't wrap my head around. The part that makes me sick. Despite knowing deep down that they're terrible people, I can't help but love them anyway.

A slight bite to the air sends shivers down my arms. My impromptu escape means I've not got a jacket and have nothing in my clutch bag but my phone and some lipstick, not exactly survival 101. But if it comes down to spending the night cold and alone or heading back inside, I know which I'd prefer.

I think.

"Hey."

I turn as Maddie and Hayden walk toward me. I'm not sure why, but seeing their familiar faces through the dark brings tears to my eyes. Maddie wraps her arms around me and pulls me in closer, letting me rest my head on her shoulder.

"Are you all right?" she asks. "We were out the back and came inside to everyone talking about what happened. Where's Max?"

"He left already," I manage to say, but I can't keep my voice from shaking. "I don't know where he went. I've called an Uber – I was going to head to the gym."

"How do you know that's where he's headed?" Hayden asks.

I pause, and then, "I don't. I just don't have anywhere else to go."

Maddie pulls back to shoot me a tender look. "Hay, if you give me the keys to the gym, I'll take Liss there. You go and find Max and tell him where to meet us, okay?"

Hayden nods without question and gives her the keys. "I'll see you later," he says, and then he whispers something in her ear that makes her smile.

"I love you too," she says back.

As soon as he's gone, our Uber pulls up. We slip into the backseat, and I take in the picture of two girls stuck to the dashboard. One is around my age, possibly a little younger, and the other is around seven. They're smiling at the camera, overcome with joy, and look far too similar not to be sisters. My heart pangs with jealousy.

"How's your evening been?" the driver asks. He's got to be pushing late forties at least and has that 'movie Dad' vibe about him, the type that cracks bad jokes but would drop everything the second you needed him – the complete opposite of my dad.

I swallow hard as tears prickle my eyes, unable to keep them in. It's like when somebody asks you if you're okay, and all of a sudden, it's impossible to hide your misery. "Fine, thank you," I say, but the crack in my voice is unmistakable.

Maddie takes my hand as the driver looks at me in the rearview mirror. His eyes are crinkled, softened with that fatherly look of concern, which only makes it worse. This stranger shows more pity in his expression than my father has my whole life. "My daughter might say otherwise, but I'm a great listener if you want to talk about anything."

Now I'm really on the verge of crying, but I swallow back the lump in my throat. "I'm okay," I say softly, "but thank you. I appreciate it."

He nods before looking back at the road. My throat tightens, because I keep replaying what happened over and over in my head, fixating on something different each time: Max's treatment, the faces of the guests, the frowns of my parents. Maybe it's stupid, but I'd dreamt that this party would bring us together, that my parents would meet Max, see how happy he made me, and would finally put me first. But maybe that's the downfall to dreaming; the only time it's real is when you're asleep.

I check my phone for the millionth time and sigh when he hasn't responded. I'm officially certain he wants nothing to do with me, and I'm preparing myself for the worst, but I need to hear him say it.

"He'll come back," Maddie says. "He probably hasn't checked his phone yet if he's driving."

"Or he's checked it and he's ignoring me because he hates me."

"Liss, he put on a suit and came to a party filled with people he hates just to make you happy. There is no way he hates you."

A part of me is hopeful that maybe she's right, but I won't hold my breath. Instead, I turn to the window and watch as we drive out of The Palisades, a place I've called home for seventeen years, but which now couldn't feel more unfamiliar. Which leads me to the question: if I don't have my home, and I don't have Max, what do I have?

When we pull up to the gym, I thank the driver and follow Maddie over to the door, anxiously watching her unlock it. It all feels familiar: the sneaking into the gym at night, then heading up to Hayden's Dad's office. The last time I'd done this was the time I'd spent the night with Max. Now here I am, standing in the exact same office, but this time I don't feel safe or secure; this time, I'm terrified.

"It's freezing in here," Maddie says as she switches on the light, but the bulb is officially dead. "Figures. Hayden never gets around to any handiwork." She moves to the lamp and switches it on, coating the room in a dim yellow glow. "Are you sure you want to wait here? You could just stay at mine and talk to Max tomorrow."

But I'm barely even listening. I'm thinking about everything that happened again, and instead of getting sad, I get angry. It starts in my fingertips, a tingling that spreads up my arm and travels to my chest, where it burns even brighter. Marnie, my parents, Justin – their judgemental faces all blur into one, and it's suddenly harder to breathe.

When Maddie looks over, she must see something dark in my expression. She takes my hand, leading me back into the main part of the gym, and over to the equipment box. There she rummages around for the gloves and pulls them out before handing them to me. I look at myself – I'm not exactly dressed for an impromptu workout – but a part of me doesn't care. I grab the tape, wrap my hands the way Max had shown me, then slip on my gloves. With a deep breath, I turn to the bag and start hitting.

Something burns through me, a fury that bleeds through the tips of my gloves and ricochets off the heavy bag. I keep hitting and hitting, replaying tonight in my head on repeat, but the harder I hit, the less it seems to hurt.

At one point, I'm so in the moment, so consumed by the anger and the impact of my hits, that I jump when I'm tapped on the shoulder. I turn mid-swing, chest rising and falling as he catches my hand mid-air.

Max.

For about a second we just stand like this, neither of us moving. Maddie walks behind him, her expression cautious. As hard as she's tried to reassure about me everything, it's clear from her face that she's not certain of the outcome either.

"Hayden is going to drive me home now," she says. "Unless you need me to stay?"

Max drops my hand as I tear my eyes from his to focus on Maddie. "No, I'll be fine."

"Okay," she says, "but call me if you need anything and I'll come straight back."

I nod, and after a moment of hesitation, she heads over to Hayden. Their footsteps get quieter as they head toward the door, and suddenly, I'm terrified. I've pretty much lost everything – my family, my friends – I don't want to lose Max too.

Nervous, I peel off my gloves and drop them to the floor before forcing myself to look at Max. His eyes are dark, cautious, and as usual, it's impossible to read the expression on his face. Does he like me? Pity me? Hate me? Is he regretting the day we ever met? He was right, after all, we're from two different worlds, and tonight has proven those two worlds can't mix, no matter how much I wished they could.

I take a deep breath in the silence. The gym is so cold that I shiver a little, but when he takes a step closer, I take a step back. Until I know for sure what he's thinking right now, I can't let him in. It'll just hurt even more when he decides that my world, this drama, isn't worth it.

I'm not worth it.

He frowns as he reaches out his hand. "You're shivering. Come on."

"I'm fine," I say, hugging myself. It's hard to tell if he still cares for me or if his concern is just him being his usual noble self. "I just–" my breath hitches slightly as he takes another step, closing the distance between us.

"Liss," he says, voice low, "talk to me."

Goosebumps spread along my skin at the gravel in his voice. I feel strangely vulnerable, more terrified than usual at the uncertainty of tomorrow. If tonight has given him reason to doubt me, it won't be long before I lose him too; I need to brace myself.

"Look," I say, "I know you came because Hayden forced you, so if you don't–"

"I came because I wanted to." His voice is gruff and a little impatient. In one quick move, he grabs my hand and pulls me closer. "I've told you before you don't need to play games. If you're having second thoughts, tell me straight."

Surprised, I look up. "I'm not. I thought – I thought you'd hate me after what happened tonight. I thought you were having second thoughts."

"Hate you?" He clenches his jaw in what I'm certain is frustration before running a hand down his face. "Maybe it's my fault," he says to himself. "Maybe I haven't been clear enough." And the next thing I know, he's grabbing my waist and kissing me.