How Sinners Fight - Eva Ashwood Page 0,78
on that first day when I walked onto Hawthorne’s campus and met the other two Sinners that it wouldn’t ever just be Gray.
It’s all of them.
I clear my throat as we walk back toward the dorms, realizing that Max is hanging behind a little, her steps dragging. I know she’s happy, but I get the sense that she needs to talk about something—something I’m pretty sure is named Aaron.
“I’ll meet up with you guys later,” I tell the guys quickly, falling back a few steps to walk next to my friend. “I want to talk with Max really quick.”
Gray cocks an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything, and we split up as they head toward the guys’ dorms and we walk toward the buildings that house the girls. Max gives me a grateful look, letting out a little sigh.
“It’s about Aaron, isn’t it?”
I try to keep my voice neutral. I have plenty of fucking opinions about that guy, but I want to let her say whatever she needs to without worrying about judgment from me.
The last light of the setting sun filters through the trees that dot the green campus, and Max keeps her gaze on the path ahead of us as we walk.
“Yeah,” she says slowly. “I’m not sure how I feel about everything that happened back there. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you, fucking relieved that we don’t have to deal with Cliff anymore, I just—”
“Max.” I stop her with a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to feel bad. And seriously, you can tell me anything. You know that.”
She finally meets my gaze. “I know.”
“Then tell me about it. What’s up?”
“I think I’m starting to have feelings for Aaron,” she admits, her voice slightly strangled. It doesn’t surprise me, but hearing her say it makes it more real. “I know he can be a real dick. I mean, just look at who he hangs out with, but I just feel something.”
I don’t say anything, letting her continue when she’s ready.
“The thing is…” She bites her lip. “I feel a little bad for using him like that, which is stupid.” She frowns as we turn and continue walking through the deserted campus. “But what confuses me most is that he didn’t mention our conversation when we confronted Cliff tonight.”
“Yeah. I thought about that too,” I admit. “I’m glad Gray didn’t mention how we found out about the hooker, but I thought maybe Aaron would. I didn’t expect him to be there or I wouldn’t have asked you to come with us. He could’ve totally called you out for basically spying on Cliff through him.”
“He was probably just protecting himself from Cliff’s wrath,” she mutters. “Maybe he knows how psycho and unbalanced his ‘friend’ is and didn’t want to risk getting on his bad side by admitting what he told me.”
“That’s totally possible.”
I blow out a breath, wondering why I’m not enthusiastically agreeing with her. If she’s having doubts about Aaron, I should probably be stoking those doubts, not trying to put them out. Maybe it’s because of how the Sinners and I started, the way something so fucked up and vicious is turning into the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
“But in the end, he was also protecting you,” I add quietly. “Not only did he keep his shit together, he prevented a big fat target from being painted on you. If he admitted you hooked up with him to get dirt on Cliff, I’m pretty sure Cliff the fuckface would blame you a lot more than his buddy.”
She groans, running her hands through her hair. “See why I’m so fucking confused?” she says. “My feelings make me want to think he did it for me, when really he probably just did it for himself. It’s stupid. I’m stupid.”
“No, you’re not,” I tell her. “Look, I’m not one to judge relationships that start in messed up places. If you like Aaron, don’t just write off your feelings because they don’t make sense to you. Aaron’s not blameless here—he’s been friends with Cliff and taking his side for a long time, and Cliff is a piece of shit, okay?”
“You’re right.” She cocks her head, her eyebrows pulling together. “But you know what the weirdest part is? It’s almost like… it’s almost like Aaron knew what he was doing when he told me about the hooker. Maybe it wasn’t just a slip of his tongue. Maybe it was an active attempt to help me. To help you.