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Summary
“This is like Mike all over again,” Max moans to Lucas, as El talks with Joyce and they all pretend not to hear Mike’s muffled yelling from next door.
“Hey,” chides Lucas, bumping shoulders with her. “Don’t. You got somewhere with Mike, you’ll get there with El. Just… she’s been though a lot.”
Max bristles but then deflates, trying to conspicuously look at El, still nestled in Joyce’s arms. El has hair slicked back behind her ears, darkly ringed eyes, and somewhat bedraggled clothes, and Max would normally steer clear of people looking like her but she’s heard so much about El, and God, why is this group of friends so unlike everyone else Max has ever met? Max never used to care about what random people thought of her.
“Curse you, stalker,” she mutters half-heartedly, and he looks at her bemusedly but Max can’t be bothered to explain.