Never Surrender

"Max!" Kennedy called as she spotted the lanky man sitting next to her father as he spoke with old friends, "Max, come here!"

The long haired man looked up suddenly and then looked away, back to the conversation between the older men, then back to Kennedy again. Sam Santos quickly excused himself from the conversation and patted Max's shoulder reassuringly. "You go ahead," he said, "You don't need to spend your time with me, Max, go on and be with Kennedy."

Max looked back to the girl just as she roughly grabbed the sleeve of his leather jacket. "Kennedy, what're you doing?" he asked as she dragged him around the groups of people and towards the door, "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere you can't avoid me," she replied, ignoring the looks that she was getting from the people in the room as she dragged the struggling bassist towards the front doors.

Max tried to pull out of her grasp and did so successfully, holding his hands up defensively when she turned back to him with a glare in her eyes. "I'll walk," he stated, explaining his reason for pulling away, "People are looking at us like you're going to beat the shit out of me."

Kennedy glanced at the surrounding people, who all looked away. "Fine," she uttered, crossing her arms over her chest, "I'll follow you to the car."

Max glanced at the doors that now had been closed. Though the long, narrow windows he could see the parking lot lit up by the over-head bulb lights that were strung from the building to the edge of the parking lot. "It's freezing out there, Kennedy," he said, his eyes fluttering back to hers, "You're in heels, too. You're going to fall."

"I walked in here perfectly fine," she rebutted, her eyes harshly trained on the lanky man, "So go."

"You weren't angry when you came in," he muttered, knowing that he wouldn't win the war. He slipped out of his leather jacket and held it out to her to wear. When she wouldn't uncross her arms to take it from him, he sighed and slung it over her shoulders, hoping she'd cave it and slip her arms through the sleeves.

Max forced his fingers between hers, despite her struggling to pull away, and led her out in the lit parking lot. The snow had started again and began to build up on the gravel lot. Kennedy squeezed Max's hand as she struggled to stay up-right in the beige shoes she'd just put back on minutes ago. Max led her down the pathway that others had taken as they left and unlocked the car doors with a button on his keys.

"Get in," Kennedy instructed as she saw the reluctant look on his face, "We have to talk."

Max winced at the sentence and watched as his best friend dropped into the car. He followed slowly, closing the door behind him. He fiddled with his keys in his lap as Kennedy just looked at him. He couldn't bare to meet her eyes, so he stared at the two keys on the ring, clanking them together in an effort to distract himself.

After two minutes of total silence, Kennedy spoke first, speaking Max's name in a way that caused him almost physical pain.

His fingers froze as he listened for more words, but none came. He licked his lips and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the seat of the car. He was unable to ask her not to say his name as if she pitied him and unable to say anything at all as her fingers pressed into his arm.

"Max," she murmured again, her eyes piercing as she waited for Max to open his own, "Please look at me. I just want to know what the hell happened."

Kennedy sighed as Max stayed silent. Part of her wanted to pretend that nothing had happened at all, but the part of her that craved for the feel of his fingers on her skin ached to know the reasoning behind his mouth on hers.

Softly, she pressed her fingers into the skin of his forearm, trying to draw his attention away from the thoughts in his head and back to her. "Max, please," she said again, pulling on his arm, "Just don't ignore me."

Max's head turned and his eyes looked over her face. He was amazed that even while upset Kennedy Santos was still the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. In the dark, with only the lights above illuminating the car, her eyes were the brightest brown he'd ever seen. He could make out that her cheeks were tinted pink from the chill seeping in through the metal doors and her lips were ghostly white and pressed into a thin, unhappy line as she waited for answers.

He reached out to her with the arm she didn't hold and cupped her cheek, wanting nothing more than to explain without words. Grabbing her other hand in his, Max leaned across the center slowly and pressed his lips to hers, his eyes staring into her own until the moment their mouths came together.

Max kissed the girl like he'd always wanted to. He kissed her for the moments she would crawl out of his bed in her underwear, yelling at him for waking her too early. He kissed her for the feel of her body next to his as they stood and for the smile that he loved to see her smile. He kissed her for the way her arms wrapped around his waist, her hands on her elbows, and for the way she looked in his clothes, claiming she bought them so they were really hers.

Max kissed Kennedy like he'd never kiss her again, and part of him wondered, as his lips parted her own, if he ever really would. Kennedy's thoughts were practically turned off as Max Green kissed her. She thought only of the way his mouth and his lip rings felt against her skin and the way his fingers pressed just under her jaw. The reason of why this was happening was gone and for that moment it wasn't Max who was kissing her, but someone else; someone who loved her with his entire being.

When Kennedy and Max broke away, the bassist leaned back in his chair and tangled his fingers in his own hair, afraid of the words that would come out of her mouth next and the excuses she'd feed him as to why this moment would be the only one of his kind.

Max knew that he'd eat of any reason she gave if it meant he'd get to keep her, even as just his best friend. Possibilities of losing her all together were surfacing and it seemed that he'd used up all the oxygen in the car.

If someone would've walked by at that moment, they would've seen two fractured adults sitting silently in a rental car. The picture was a simple one. White lights over head, a dark car, a cold night, and two people who didn't know what they wanted out of life, but who each were trying to figure out if they wanted each other in the same way.

Kennedy, who'd always been broken beyond repair, was almost frozen when she realized she had no idea what to do or say next. She hoped that Max would speak first seeing as he hadn't said a word since before they entered the car, but she was out of luck as he stuck the key in the ignition and cracked his window, allowing the chilly November air to sweep into the car.

"Are you going to tell me what that was?" she asked finally, keeping her fingers away from his skin.

Max looked at the dark-haired girl and shrugged his shoulders. It wasn't a cocky gesture or a way to mess with her, but just a way to explain that he didn't know how to explain. "Are you going to tell me how it made you feel?" he countered, realizing that he couldn't answer her question without knowing her answer. He couldn't tell her the truth without knowing that her feelings matched his. He wouldn't dare ruin their friendship for only the possibility of something more. He wanted reassurance, so he stayed silent.

"Made me feel?" Kennedy repeated, frowning softly at the question as she searched within herself for the answer, "How was it supposed to make me feel?"

Max wasn't sure if that was her way of letting him down easy or if she, like him, was just confused by all of this. "It was supposed to make you feel how you felt," Max said diplomatically, scared that she'd really felt nothing at all.

"It made me feel confused, Max," she said after a moment, "Why'd you do that?"

Max licked his lips again and dropped his shoulders in another shrug. "I wanted to see your reaction," he stated, scrutinizing her expression, "I just had to know how you'd react."

"But why?" she asked, sighing loudly as they went in circles.

Max realized that they were headed nowhere and he quickly contemplated his words, understanding that he need a little more audacity and boldness to achieve anything. "Because I think I'm in love with you, Ken," he explained, saying each word slowly as he watched her expression morph from frustration to shock. His words were soft and honest. No force behind them at all, just a simple statement.

In her eyes he would see the blatant surprise that she felt for his words. If she admitted to herself, she too felt instances of romantic feelings for Max, but she'd never dwelled on them, choosing instead another man from the crowd.

"What're you talking about?" she asked, looking at him with wide eyes, "You're my best friend, Max."

"Why does that mean that I can't love you?" he questioned, shaking his head at his own words. He wanted to be quiet and take it all back, because he couldn't take the confusion in her eyes and the rejection in her voice. "I can't help it, Kenny," he said, wishing he could, "But I love you even if you don't love me back."

That was the first moment Kennedy even considered the possibility that she could actually love him back. In her mind, "I love you" wasn't a precursor for "I love you, too" but just happened to often follow each other occasionally.

"I-," she whispered into the darkness around them, staring at a family who was climbing in a van in the stall in front of them, "I don't know how I feel, Max."

Max's eyes closed when she wasn't looking at him. He felt defeated and upset and pressed his eyes closed tightly as he realized she didn't love him back. He'd been hoping that at least a part of her had broken off from the rest and hoped for him in the way he hoped for her. "It's okay," he whispered, turning his face away from hers, "I understand."

"Oh, Max," the young girl murmured, reaching up with cold fingers to touch his chin, "I don't know know how I feel, but you're my best friend and even if you love me more than that, you'll always be that to me, at least."

For most men, being the friend of a woman they loved was a terrible fate, but for Max, he'd feared that he wouldn't be in her life at all, so relief flooded his system as he took in her words. Of course, Kennedy had left it open for the possibility of loving him too, but he focused only on the part of not wanting him out of her life.

Kennedy struggled silently in the passenger's seat. She wanted something that she'd never wanted before, and it wasn't a proclamation of love from the man she'd met in a bar. It seemed that realizing he loved her made her trust him even more with something she'd never given to anybody.

"Do you want to go home?" she asked him, gently touching his arm again, "We have a lot to talk about."

"Your dad," Max rebutted, not wanting to take the man home and strand him without a ride.

"I'll go see if he can get a ride," she said, reaching for the door handle, "He'll come home later. We'll have plenty of time before then." She opened the door and stepped out into the small pile of snow that had built up around the car. She looked up at the sky to see if it was still snowing. When she saw that it had, she carefully made her way to the doors of the building, leaving Max in the car alone.

She found her father on the opposite side of the room, chatting and laughing with friends. "Dad!" she called as she grew closer, looking away as other fathers checked to see if it was their own daughter. "Sam!" she tried, catching his attention as he scolded her for the name.

"What is it, Kennedy?" he asked, having temporarily excused himself from his conversation. "Where's Max? Is everything alright?"

Kennedy nodded. "Everything's fine," she said, "But Max and I are going to head home. Can you catch a ride with Bill or Markus?"

Sam nodded, smiling at his daughter. "Markus invited me 'round to watch some of today's game," he explained, "I was hoping you wouldn't mind if I stayed the night there."

Kennedy looked back to the man she was close with growing up. He was a happy alcohol-enthusiast who loved only three things; football, beer, and her father. Markus was one of the only gay men in town and while he'd had a crush on her father since high school, he never truly outgrown those feelings completely, despite never acting on them.

Markus and her father had been friends since they met as sophomores in high school and spent most of their time together. If the townspeople hadn't known them better, they would've assumed that Markus and Sam were together, but they all knew better.

"I love you, Dad," Kennedy said as she wrapped her arms around her father, "I'll see you tomorrow." Kennedy headed out of the building nervous and confused, but ready to talk to Max about the one thing on her mind.