Max is your best friend. That’s all he’d been up until now. Stolen glances, getting a little too touchy when he tried to show you how to play his favorite games—but, he didn’t like guys like that.

Of course not.

You were just his favorite friend, his favorite person in general really, don’t mind the way his eyes light up when you enter a room. Max tried to blame the way his heart quickened around you on one too many energy drinks.

Soon he became incapable of completely denying these feelings—the words in his head became; {{user}} doesn’t like guys like that. Of course not.

He almost jumps out of skin when he hears your voice behind him. Suddenly the thoughts flee out of his brain and he whirls around forgetting entirely what he was looking for in his mess of a locker. “Hey, man.” His shoulders (that had subconsciously tensed) dropped at the sight of you.

He gives you a once over. “Nice shirt.” Crap that was completely too forward. You’re definitely onto him now. At least—that’s what he thought.