Chapter Text
Max had been home from college for about two weeks since classes ended. His dad had driven five long hours to pick him up, and while Max appreciated the effort, being trapped in the car with his dad for that long—just the two of them—wasn’t exactly his idea of a good time. If Charlie had been there, at least she would’ve broken up the endless conversations. But his older sister still had some commitments to finish before coming home for the summer.
Max loved his dad, don’t get him wrong, but sometimes he could be a little too much. Still, once he was back in his old house and neighbourhood, it was easy to settle in. PJ and Bobby were home too, and the three of them spent most days hanging out at the skatepark or lazing by PJ’s pool. Since PJ’s dad was Max and Charlie’s godfather, their dads often hung out there as well, which made Max feel less guilty about not being glued to his dad 24/7. Charlie was better at that anyway—she knew how to spend time with their dad without getting overwhelmed. For Max, it sometimes felt suffocating. He understood why, and he felt guilty for resenting it, but that didn’t make it easier.
Finally, the day came for Charlie to come home. Their dad offered to drive out and pick her up, but she declined, saying she’d bring herself. Max blinked when he heard that—he didn’t even know she had a car. He figured she must’ve bought it with all the money she made from her gigs. Charlie played the drums, and she was damn good at it. Back home, she had her own band, but at college, she was constantly filling in for others, drumming in half the local acts that played at the bar. Max liked that part—it usually meant free drinks for him and his friends.
Charlie was two years older than Max, and the two were very close. In high school, when Max and his friends got picked on, Charlie was the one who stepped in and defended them. At the time, Max hated it—nothing worse than your older sister fighting your battles. But now, looking back, he appreciated how much she’d had his back.
That afternoon, Max and his dad were in the backyard, playing cards, when the sound of a car pulling into the driveway caught their attention. His dad practically leapt out of his chair, rushing to the front door like an excited puppy. Max trailed behind, grinning faintly.
By the time he got there, his dad was already outside, wrapping Charlie in a giant bear hug. Max leaned against the doorframe, shaking his head at the scene until Charlie spotted him.
“Maxie!” she cheered, tugging him into her arms. “Missed you.”
“Missed you too, Char,” he muttered, though his smile betrayed him.
And then the passenger door opened.
Max froze. His smile vanished the second he saw who stepped out: tall, pressed sweater, smug face, Max knew all too well. Bradley Uppercrust III.
The Bradley Uppercrust. Of course. The guy looked like he ironed his socks before putting them on.
Max’s voice dropped an octave, sharp. “What the hell is he doing here?”
Charlie stiffened. “...Did Dad not tell you?” Max shook his head slowly, glaring at her. “He’s, uh… staying with us this summer.”
“Like hell he is.” Max’s voice cracked, loud enough for both Bradley and his dad to hear.
“Maxie…” his dad tried gently.
“Dad, you can’t be serious,” Max protested, throwing a hand toward Bradley. No one had the chance to answer before Max huffed, turned on his heel, and stormed upstairs, slamming his bedroom door behind him.
Downstairs, Bradley adjusted the strap of his bag, visibly uncomfortable. Charlie noticed, offering him an apologetic look as she ushered him inside.
“Thank you for letting me stay, Mr. Roberts,” Bradley said quietly.
“Nonsense! And call me Julian,” He replied with a wave.