Re: log: dylan & max
Max was good at reading situations, not people. Emotions were largely lost on her, or mixed up with her own skewed perception of sentiment. She'd been raised to be hard, and it only worked on the outside. Her personal relationships were a mess of this. Misunderstandings and lack of comprehension. But that wasn't blinking neon in the bar; not like it had before. She wanted to believe she was good at emotional endings, even if she fought them tooth and nail. She'd fallen back into bed with Brandon plenty of times, even after she'd stopped dragging the dead body. This was, as far as she understood, done. He'd ended it when she went for a run instead of staying in bed, and that was the tangible moment she could point to in order to illustrate how she'd fucked it up. She didn't expect him to tell her things. She didn't think starting fresh was something that happened, not in life, not in this.
But she was okay with whatever this was. Casual. She could do casual. Casual was as comfortable as the heat tucked into the back of her jeans. His thumb dragged against her skin, and she looked up at his face. She was hazy drunk, and she smelled of nicotine and too much honesty. "Yeah. It is."