landmines: An Introduction to Max Miller

There are certain obsessions best left alone. After having lived in Alaska for the past couple of years, I should know this better than most. I had chased my obsession with tracking down my father who’d up and left my two older brothers, mom, and me when I was nine, only to learn that being a commercial fisherman is comparable to the seventh circle of hell, and that my Southwestern roots didn’t prepare me for the often cold and rainy months up north.

I’ve been back home to Southern California for six weeks, but it only took the first minute for my neighbor Ace Bosse, to take full residency in my thoughts. I knew my curiosity and interest in her was a stone best left unturned. After all, I’m living with my mom for the summer, and I didn’t come alone. Landon and Jameson—two of my best friends who I met while living in Alaska—followed me down to The Golden State. I’d wanted to get a place of our own in San Diego, near campus where I’m enrolled to begin my junior year of college. My comfort level for digressing and going from independent-living to sleeping in my childhood bedroom was less than enticing, but when my uncle said he had a rental we could use for half the price and twice the size of anything we could find, I swallowed my pride and we moved in with my mom who also happens to be best friends with Ace’s mom, Muriel.

That’s just one of the many landmines presented when it comes to my blonde-haired, brown-eyed neighbor. The first issue—maybe what should be considered the biggest issue—is that she has a boyfriend.

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