Exotic

~ a little talk ~

How often did you feel tired out for no good reason?

I frowned down at the moderately scrunched sheet of paper. I felt like such questions needed room beneath them for excuses to be made, not just a scale. I often felt tired without reason, but I also lived a markedly stressful life, so... that was probably the point. I marked down 4.

"You know it's called homework, not car-work, right?" Max asked from the backseat. I flipped him off, affectionately.

Aaron had surprised me with an early morning pickup on Monday morning. Usually, I only ever caught a ride home with him in the afternoon because our houses were on completely different tracks to school, and Max didn't like waking up at the crack of dawn. It was entirely possible that if I asked, he would still go out of his way to pick me up every day, but I knew that I had to draw the line somewhere, before I tipped over into 'taking advantage' of Aaron's good nature.

How often do you feel nervous?

I marked a 2. Before remembering what Alba had asked and changing it to a 3.

"It should be a rule that if you aren't going to talk, you don't get shotgun," Max grumbled.

"I have earned this seat through my unrivalled adoration and support of your brother," I argued, not taking my eyes off the sheet in my lap. "You were a douchebag in middle school. And you will serve your sentence in the back seat."

"How dare you," Max played offended. "We don't talk about middle school in this car. It's a safe space."

Aaron chuckled. "He'll fight dirty for that front seat."

"Never challenge me again," I added.

How often did you feel so nervous that nothing could calm you down?

2. 3. Maybe 2.5. Was that allowed?

"What are you doing anyway?" Max kicked the base of my chair. "I've hadn't seen your brain working this hard all year."

I folded the paper into my chest, meeting his eyes in the rear-view mirror. "It's nothing. It's... modern history stuff."

"Mmm," Max smirked. "Caleb's little sister got you back on the straight and narrow?"

His comments made it clear that Aaron hadn't so much as hinted at my secret, not even to Max. I knew I had nothing to fear, but the reassurance was pleasant. "She's a ball buster, that one."

Max's shark-grin worried me. "I bet, dude."

How often do you feel restless or fidgety?

Was this thing serious? Fidgeting couldn't have anything to do with anxiety. I marked down a 1.

"Don't be gross," Aaron said firmly. "It's weird enough that you're seeing Georgianna. And she's sixteen."

I glanced up in surprise. "Seriously? You're actually following through?"

"After the shit Aidan pulled last week? I'm all in," Max flopped back against the seat, combing curls off his face. He's been bargaining with Aaron for a month to get a haircut. Aaron didn't seem to have any issues altering his body to look like his own person, but Max seemed fixated with the gimmick. He would only cut his hair if his brother agreed to do the same. "He was a real asshole at the game, too. Apparently, yelling at the guys who actually showed up beats yelling at Proust for bailing."

I frowned. "Aidan's not mad at him?"

"Aidan's never mad at him," Max grumbled. "Caleb Proust can do no wrong. He's the only one who can go up against him without being socked in the jaw. It'd be damn adorable if it was anyone other than McCaffrey."