I follow Max as he steps outside into the cool night air. The weather is something I usually love about Western Australia. Itâs cool in the evening and warm during the day, but tonight the chill has ominous company. I havenât spoken because the words are caged in my throat, unable to leave.
Max stares deadpan into the darkness. A long moment passes, twisting the knot in my stomach, before he turns towards me. I think of our day together. Of our intimacy. Of his light smile. I think of them because I barely recognise this man in front of me.
âYou need to be very careful with the names you throw around. Donât talk about people you think you know. You know nothing. Youâre a silly little girl. Stop asking questions youâll never get the answers to. Focus on being a ballerina.â
My pulse leaps as his detached eyes crush any hope Iâve ever had for us. âBut . . . Konnorâs part of -â
âThis conversation is over.â
I cuddle myself tightly, holding all the pieces of myself together in case I fall apart. Without another word, Max walks away, vanishing into the void between my house and studio. Silence lingers and then the lights of Bronsonâs bike flick on and stun my senses. The engine growls to a start and he disappears, neither speeding nor meandering; he just casually rides away from me.