No strings attached (yeah, right.)

Max wasn’t mad.

She wasn’t.

She had no reason to be. Caroline could talk to whoever she wanted. She could flip her hair and giggle and bat her lashes at rich, handsome men all she wanted. She could compliment their stupidly perfect hair and let them call her “princess” without even a hint of irony. It had nothing to do with Max.

Nope.

Max angrily stabbed at her cutting board, chopping vegetables with way too much force. It wasn’t even the right knife for the job, but whatever. It was fine. It was just… fine.

Caroline had come home practically floating. Glowing. And Max hated it. She hated how everything seemed to revolve around Caroline's latest “encounter” with some rich guy who apparently worshipped the ground she walked on.

She had spent the entire walk back to their apartment talking about—what was his name again? Sebastian? Montgomery? Something stupidly rich-sounding.

Max didn’t care enough to remember.

“And then he said I had the most enchanting laugh,” Caroline sighed, practically melting onto the couch, still dressed in her perfectly pressed clothes from the dessert bar. “Can you believe that?”

Max, standing by the counter, shoved the knife through a tomato with a little too much force. “Yeah, wild. A guy found you attractive. Stop the presses.”

Caroline frowned. “I’m just saying, it’s nice to be appreciated. He’s actually charming, Max.”

Max stabbed the tomato again, almost going too far and splitting it in half. “Mmmhmm.”

“Like, he asked me about my dreams and—okay, don’t roll your eyes, Max, I saw that.”

Max exaggerated the eye roll this time, just to make sure Caroline really saw it. “It’s just so refreshing to hear about your fascinating love life, Caroline. Truly. I don’t know what my pathetic life would be without these thrilling updates.”

Caroline blinked. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Max said flatly. “Why would anything be wrong? I love hearing about some guy you met literally yesterday and have already decided is the one.”

“I never said that!”

Max shrugged, roughly chopping the vegetables like she was at war with them. The salad—if it could even be called that—was turning into a shredded mess, but Max kept going, throwing ingredients into the bowl like it owed her money.

Caroline stared at her for a long moment. “You’re mad.”

Max scoffed. “No, Caroline, I’m just thrilled that our apartment is now doubling as a romantic comedy.”

“Okay, now I know you’re mad,” Caroline said, crossing her arms. “What’s your problem?”

Max slammed the knife down onto the counter, cutting through a cucumber like she was trying to take down an enemy. “My problem is that I had to listen to you flirt all night like some love-struck debutante while I actually worked. I had to explain to Han why we got 0 tips tonight because you were too busy giggling over a guy who probably owns three yachts.”

Caroline’s mouth opened, then closed. Max raised an eyebrow. “Oh, what, no witty comeback?”

Caroline sighed, rubbing her temples. “Max, I wasn’t slacking off. I was working.”

“Yeah, working on getting a boyfriend.”

“Oh my God, why do you care?”

“I don’t care!”

“You clearly do!”

Max let out a sharp breath, spinning back to the salad and tossing it aggressively in the bowl. “Forget it.”

Caroline stared at her for a moment longer before exhaling and walking toward the Murphy bed in the corner of the living room. She tugged it down with a loud clunk, and without saying another word, climbed into it and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders.

Max grit her teeth, letting the silence settle.

Then—

“Max, why is there no food?”

Max didn’t turn around. “Because we’re poor, Caroline.”

Caroline groaned. “No, I mean, why is the fridge completely empty? I checked it earlier. I thought you were going shopping.”

“Oh, sorry, I was too busy chopping vegetables all night instead of going out and flirting my way into a free dinner.”

“Max.”

“What?”

Caroline sighed dramatically from her bed. “Do you want to talk about what’s actually bothering you? Or do you just want to keep being a sarcastic little gremlin?”

Max pointed at her with the knife. “This is why I didn’t get groceries. You keep calling me a gremlin, so I decided to start living like one.”

Caroline huffed. “Fine. Be petty. Starve. I don’t care.”

Max, still gripping her knife, exhaled slowly.

She stared at her chopped-up salad—if she could even call it that. The vegetables were all uneven, scattered in a pile. Nothing about it was satisfying.

She sighed, tossed the knife onto the table, and rubbed her face with her hands.

She wasn’t mad.

She wasn’t.

But maybe, just maybe, she was a tiny bit…jealous.

Not that she would ever admit it.

But as she stared at her half-assed salad, a knot twisted tighter in her stomach.

She wasn’t mad.

But she was… frustrated. Maybe even a little lonely, but that was fine. She had plenty of things to keep her busy. Like the dessert bar, her half-formed paintings, and trying to stay out of Caroline’s orbit while Caroline’s life seemed to move in a constant, glamorous swirl of dates and compliments.

And it wasn’t that Max cared. She didn’t.

It was just that… Caroline’s perfect little world? The one where everything she touched turned to gold? Yeah, Max didn’t have time for that. Not now. Not ever. Besides, she doesn't even know why she keeps convincing herself that Caroline's world is perfect these past few days. She really needs a grip.

Except, somehow, she couldn’t help but feel a little stung. And that, of course, had nothing to do with the fact that Caroline was talking about some rich guy who was already practically planning their wedding in his head.

Max was… fine.

So why did her chest feel so tight?

30 minutes passed and max was now on the couch watching cat videos on the laptop ignoring Caroline's whining. She heard Caroline shift in the bed, the sound of the blanket rustling followed by a loud sigh from across the room.

“Max,” Caroline’s voice piped up, softer than usual, “what is it? Seriously. I’m not asking for much, just talk to me. You’re acting like you want me to be some kind of mind reader.”

Max let out a half-laugh, half-snort. “Yeah, right. You’re too busy being your ‘charming self’ to notice what’s actually going on in here.” She gestured vaguely at her own chest, though Caroline couldn’t see it.

Caroline’s head popped up from the pillow, eyes narrowed. “You’re still pissed about earlier, aren’t you?”

Max rolled her eyes. “No. I’m just living my best life while you do your thing, clearly.”

“You know, you could at least pretend to care,” Caroline said, sitting up now. Her voice was quieter, tinged with irritation. “You’re not even trying to have a conversation. You’re being… passive-aggressive.”

Max shot a glare in her direction. “I’m not passive-aggressive. I’m aggressively alive, Caroline.” She waved her hand in a mocking flourish, not caring if it sounded absurd. “And why should I try to talk about this? You don’t really care. You’ve got your perfect little life planned out, don’t you? I mean, you just met some guy, and you’ve already decided he’s ‘charming.’” She let out an exaggerated sigh. “How cute.”

Caroline blinked at her, clearly taken aback by the sharpness in Max’s voice. But then she narrowed her eyes and leaned forward, sitting up on the edge of the bed. “Are you serious right now? Since when do you think like this?"

Max just glared at her, crossing her arms. As she approached the bed and sat next to caroline.

“Are you self-projecting because Randy broke up with you?” Caroline shot back, her tone no longer playful, but accusing. “Because that’s what it seems like to me."

“Stop. I don't care about him or any other man okay?"
Caroline stared at her for a long moment, the words hanging in the air between them, sharp and charged.

“You sure about that?” Caroline pressed, her voice quiet but insistent. “Because right now, it sounds like you're deflecting onto me instead of dealing with whatever's actually going on inside.”

Max bit the inside of her cheek, fighting the urge to lash out. The last thing she wanted was to go down that road. The one that led to talking about Randy, or anything remotely personal. She didn’t have the energy for that.

“I said I don’t care, Caroline,” she repeated, but her voice was a little less sure this time. She was trying to hold onto the anger, but it was slipping through her fingers, like trying to grasp water.

Caroline didn’t back off. “Okay. If you don’t care, then why are you acting like this? Like it’s some huge deal that I met some guy. You keep saying you don’t care, but it’s all I’m hearing from you right now.”

Max clenched her fists, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. “I don’t care. What do you want me to say? That I’m sitting here heartbroken because you’re hanging out with someone else? Please. Get over yourself, Caroline.” She stood up suddenly, pushing her hands into her pockets to keep them from shaking.

“Yeah, because that’s totally convincing.” Caroline’s voice had shifted again, now with that sharp edge Max hated. The kind of edge that made her feel like she was on trial. “It’s not like I’m asking you to throw me a parade for dating some guy. But it’s pretty obvious that something else is going on. You’ve been shutting me out, Max. You’ve been avoiding me. Don’t pretend you’re fine when you’re not.”

Max turned to face her, her mouth dry. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out at first. Instead, she just stared at Caroline for a moment, that same nagging, sick feeling clawing at her stomach.

“I told you. I’m fine,” Max finally managed, but it came out in a rasp. She hated this. She hated how Caroline seemed to see right through her, like she knew exactly what buttons to push.