Seventeen-year old first year college student Josie Clarke would prefer not to blush the colour crimson at every little thing, but Idiopathic Craniofacial Erythema, a chronic facial condition doesn't play fair.
In fact, it's as uncontrollable...
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The girl with the snow-white hair and smirky smirk comes closer, and even though Max is a foot away from me, I can feel tension radiate off him.
When she stops and quietly starts to laugh, his jaw goes rigid.
"Cat got your tongue or what?"
Max doesn't say a word but he doesn't really have to. His annoyance is directed at her in the roll of his eyes and the heavy, irritated taps his converse make on the thick, spongy grass.
"Oh, no wait, we've got your cat," she says, laughing still. "Dad keeps shooing the bastard away but he continues to sneak in for some pussy...cat company. Sound familiar?"
My tummy lurches.
If only I could hit rewind. If only this situation was a crappy song I could skip or force back to the beginning and ignore.
Why did I have let curiosity get the better of me?
"Not now Libby," Max says, like he's her dad.
She shrugs it off and turns her attention to me. "Whose this then?"
"Who? Me?" I mumble, repeating her words like a drunken parrot.
"Yeah you."
"I'm Josie."
Libby wrinkles her nose. "So, why were you spying on me from the alley, Josie?"
I shuffle on my feet and turn to Max for support, as if he'll be able to bail me out of the mess I've made.
Max stares back, shoulders hunched until he caves in. "We heard you drumming."
Twisting on the chunky heel of her cherry red Doc Marten's, she does a mock curtsey and tosses her hair back. "Aw, really?"
"I wouldn't look so chuffed. We heard you only because you gave us no other choice."
"It's called playing the drums Max."
He tuts and the lurching in my tummy intensifies. The one question I want answered and at the same time not, because I'm scared, bounces round in my head like a shuttlecock.
What is the deal between them? Did they... Did they... No. No way.
"It's called playing the drums, badly," He fires back, shaking his head in disbelief. His lips are curled up, as if ready to smile but I know he's not happy. Mostly irritated. Like one might be at coming face to face with an ex.
"Oh shut up," Libby says, kicking the grass with one boot. Her hands fall to her hips. "If you're here to dob me in, then you can fuck off. My parents aren't even in anyways. And in case you'd forgotten, neither is she."
