Daniel was in a good mood that night, because of the race and because someone had found him molly. A few times he put his arm around Max’s shoulders or elbowed him or grabbed his wrist, and he gave Max one of his pills right on his tongue so Max got to taste him for a second. No one else touched Max that much; a few of the engineers patted him on the back one time each.

At the club, though, he lost track of Daniel. He tried to have fun anyway without him, but it was hard not to look for him. Maybe Daniel already had left, so Max wouldn’t be able to do anything tonight, and he could live a little longer in the aching inbetween: not yes but also not no.

The molly made him restless, so he went into the crowd, pushing his way through just to do something with his body. He would have left, too, but he didn’t want to be alone yet. He found Daniel by accident, recognizing first the slant of his shoulders and reaching out to touch; the muscle felt good in his hand.

“Maxy!” Daniel said. He was sweaty and his shirt had become unbuttoned. Max glanced at the women he was with, but Daniel ignored them and hugged him instead, burying his face into his neck. When he said, “I got lost,” Max could feel his lips move. It had to be what Max hoped for, or nothing made any sense.

Daniel kept an arm around Max as they made their way back to the VIP section, his fingers drumming against Max’s collarbone, his armpit damp through both of their shirts. Daniel got them water and sat so close next to him that their arms overlapped. Max tried to talk to him about the race, but he could tell Daniel wasn’t listening— he was staring at Max’s mouth and his hands intently, his lips parted, his tongue peeking through. Max was getting hard.

“Can we— together, go to the hotel?” Max asked, feeling the flinch as he didn’t manage to ask the question that he should have.

“You want to go?” Daniel was still staring at Max’s mouth. They were close enough Max would barely have to lean. Then he said, “I'll call a car.”

Daniel led him back to his hotel room, but as soon as they were inside he was acting weird. Max sat on the couch, waiting, but Daniel was hiding his face in the little refrigerator like he couldn’t stand to look at Max. The pressure was so intense in Max’s chest he was having a hard time thinking. He put a hand on his sternum to make sure it was still there.

“Daniel,” he said, and his voice cracked horribly. Daniel’s head snapped up. “Come sit with me.” It wasn’t what he really wanted to say, but he could tell from Daniel’s face that he understood— and he was afraid. As if Max was a monster from a nightmare. Daniel had never looked at him like that before.

It was worse, much worse: the no, the knowing. Daniel scared of him, like he was driving them off the road, off a cliff. Like he had threatened Daniel, like he could hurt him and he would. It was so much he couldn’t speak; he only touched his chest again, hard enough so his wrist and palm hurt, too.

“I have to go to bed,” Daniel said, standing up awkwardly, grabbing his opposite elbows. Max felt himself nod and stand up, moving on autopilot, even though it made him feel lightheaded.

“But if you want to keep partying, hey, I bet the team’s still out, you could— there were a lot of pretty girls there. Get your dick wet.” Daniel was back at the refrigerator, rummaging around and dropping things. Like he didn’t want anything to do with Max— like he hadn’t had anything to do with it. Like he had never put his finger in Max’s mouth and, when Max bit down, told him to cover his teeth with his lips and laughed. Like he didn’t try to cheer Max up after every bad qualifying, run his fingers through his hair sometimes.

It made him so angry that even the pain burned away. He couldn’t stand— he couldn’t go, not without Daniel acknowledging— any of it. But he couldn’t think of what to say, either, that could capture it all. What finally came out of his mouth was, “Be nice.” At that Daniel looked at him, stricken, so then Max left.

Max spent his summer break fucking guys. He didn’t tell the first one that he never had before, but the guy didn’t say anything, so Max assumed he must have been okay. He didn’t like most of them, but some of them were hot or funny or at least touched him the way he wanted to be touched: a little rough, but like they really wanted him.

When Max came in, Daniel knew it must be him, even though he was buff for a geek, and tall. Well, the laptop he was carrying gave it away, mostly, but he had the vibe of the voice on the phone. Steady.

“Are you— did you call me?” Max asked, and Daniel realized he never said his name. The kid still showed up, random phone call out of nowhere and he showed up. Different world. “Ricky?” he asked.

“Daniel,” he said, standing up from his chair behind the counter. Max walked up to him, held out his hand to shake. “Daniel Ricciardo,” he finished.

“You needed a website,” Max supplied. “For here?” He looked around the store, appraising. Daniel saw it through his eyes, like, who would want to buy any of this junk online, who would buy this junk period if they didn’t have sunstroke and their annoying kid was making them?

“Mostly for, well, I have some t-shirts, my own designs.” He nodded his head to the racks of them, the corner he had set up. A few were in the window display, not too many because the whole thing annoyed Chris. 

“Can I?” Max asked, pointing. Daniel nodded. He watched Max examine the shirts, sliding them along the rack. He had long fingers, moved them carefully. Precisely. “They’re really cool,” he said, after his silent examination. Daniel stared at him but he just stared back. Earnest.