Here's the next chapter for yous!
Disclaimer: I don't own Max Ride, but I'm working on it.
"Welcome in, Max." I tried not to smirk outwardly at her attempts to rub off the makeup. Now her whole face was multicoloured. Her cheeks were black from smudged mascara. Everywhere was bright red and pink from blush and lipstick and her forehead had a green tinge to it from eye shadow.
That's what makes being a male so much easier. We don't need to look pretty. - Well I speak for myself here. I dropped all my things on the kitchen bench. Max walked around, inspecting everything. From the light blue coloured walls, to the slightly rotten banana in the fruit bowl, Max studied EVERYTHING.
I cleared my throat ten minutes later, catching Max's attention. "Uh, Max. Do you need to take a shower or, erm, something?"
Max compressed a smile. She nodded graciously and I lead her to the bathroom, giving her a hurried tour of the house as we walked. "…That's where you'll be sleeping tonight, the Guest Bedroom, the toilet, oh and here is the bathroom."
I fetched her a clean towel and an unopened bar of soap, which she took thankfully. Max shrugged of her backpack and brought out a silk nightie, a soft and fluffy pink robe, some face cleanser and body wash, plus her, um, brasandunderwear. Which I tried not to stare at.
She shooed me out, turned the fan on and I heard the water go on with a squeak. Yes, our (Chelsea and my) cosy home wasn't that flash and new but it housed us fine.
Whistling, I turned on the TV and stretched out on the sofa to watch a rerun of a movie.
…..(A few minutes later.)
"Fang, wake up. Now, or I'll pour ice water on your head and I'll turn on the lights." I rolled over, ignoring the annoying voice.
"Buzz off." I mumbled.
I heard soft footsteps go in the direction of the laundry. Then the bathroom. Then the laundry. I heard cussing and swearing and a loud bang. Then I could sense the brightness of the overhead lights, even with my eyelids shut closed.
"Fang! Now!" Max yelled, and I felt the prickle of chilled water trickle down my neck.
"Shit! I'm up. What did you want?" I opened my eyes just in time to see Max mouth the words 'uh-oh' and a whole bucket of cold water was dumped on me. I narrowed my eyes and resisted the urge to grab Max and shake her till she begged for mercy.
But we couldn't have the fantastic, smart, funny, charming, gorgeous and totally hot looking hero killing the damsel in distress, now, could we?
Instead, I chased Max around the small house. Flat out sprint. Did I forget to mention that she had only a short towel around her body? Well, yeah there was that. Max was running, laughing and shrieking hysterically and we ran round in circles, like a cat chasing a mouse.
Finally, Max turned around and charged at me. Not expecting the change in direction, I only managed to slow down enough to avoid breaking a bone. We only had a minor collision, but might I add I now have one heck of a bruise starting to form.
With Max chortling and I doubled over with laughter, I stood up, brushed the imaginary dust off my shirt and offered Max a hand. Making sure her towel was secure; she accepted and pulled herself up.
"I think I'm beginning to like the new you. Now, what was it you wanted?" I asked.
Max's face blanked out in confusion and then her expression cleared. She coughed, suddenly embarrassed. "Oh, um. There's, uh, someone's, underwear hanging on the, uh, tap for the shower. I don't really want to touch it, you know?"
I followed Max to the shower and stared at Chelsea's underwear. Come to think of it, I didn't really want to touch it, either. I paused, wondering how I could get out of this dilemma.
Max prodded me on the shoulder blade- hard. "Well? Get rid of it."
"Look, how about you have a wash later, after Chelsea's back?" I stalled.
"Be a man and just do it."
"I don't want to be a man. I want to be a guy who is really creeped out by his roomie's undergarments and chickens out from touching them." I whined. Yes, the hero is whining to the damsel. Sad, I know.
"Well, congratulations. You got the part." With a disgusted grimace, Max flung Chelsea's underwear onto the carpet and locked the bathroom door in my face.
Humming, I went back to the T.V and resumed resting. I yawned and tried to go back to sleep. Man, throwing yourself in front of dumpsters to save random, multipersonalitied girls sure uses up a guy's energy fast.
Max emerged looking crisp and fresh. She smelt of lemon and peach and a bit of garbage. She had on the silk nightie and looked awkward in it. It reached her mid thigh, and accentuated her lanky, slim form. Which was, to me, extremely attractive. If I ever caught someone who didn't think Max was beautiful by her own rights, they truly could not appreciate perfection when it was staring them right in the eye and prodding them.
"Hi. So…What's up for dinner?" I glanced down at my wrist, then feeling stupid because there wasn't a watch there; at the main kitchen clock.
"Hmm. 5:30. Not quite dinnertime, Max. I was thinking we could get to know each other better, since, well, you are sleeping under my roof tonight." I pointed out.
Max shrugged and I continued. "How about you say 3 things about yourself; two correct and once false and I'll tell you which I think is false. Then, I'll go."
Max shrugged again. "Okay… I'm a girl, I like eating and I have a dog named Fido."
I laughed. "Well I'm hoping that first one was true and I've gathered that you take your food seriously, so number three is wrong. Also adding the fact you can't even remember who your mother is."
Max sniggered. "Wrong. The last one is correct. See, I'll even show him to you." She produced a stuffed dog out of her bag. "And just to let you know, I don't like eating, I love it."
I glared, miffed. And I thought it was easy. "My go. Here, sit down." She squished in next to me, ignoring my gesture at the other couch. "Okay. I've had lots of girlfriends, I sleep with a teddy every night and I try to avoid talking a lot."
Max frowned. "I can't believe you've never had a girlfriend." Damn! How did she know? There was a wicked twinkle in Max's eyes. Damn again.
"Anyway, enough of that game. How about an honest game of one question, one answer?" She suggested. The game's name was self-explanatory.
My turn to shrug. Max went first again. "How old are you?"
"Going to be 24 soon. And you?"
"I'm 40." I felt my jaw drop before I registered the look on Max's face. "Just kidding. I think they said 23." Oops, so my guess earlier was a little off the mark.
Max rubbed her hands together gleefully. "Why haven't you had a girlfriend before?"
I grimaced. "Haven't found the right person, you know? Sure, I've had flings but not a steady girlfriend. My record is a week. So I'm known as a kind of player."
Max nodded thoughtfully. "Is there really any point in me asking you questions?"
"No. I don't know much about myself yet. Maybe we can both get to know me together. Or, the old me. Do you feel sort of connected to me?"
I felt myself go red but a question was question. "Connected as in how?"
Max smiled crookedly. "You haven't answered my question yet. So I'm not answering that."
I sighed. "Fine, yes. Does the fact that you're pretty much a stranger and yet you're sitting in my house and staying here tonight indicate anything to you?"
"I suppose it means you like me to some degree. I also suppose I could get used to spending the night with handsome strangers." She flashed a smile and went off to towel her drying hair, which was already curling up at the ends.
It was now past six. Obviously Chelsea was going to be home late tonight. I tried not to think about the way Max made me feel. Every time she smiled and even spoke to me, I felt my insides do a little jig. A happy, bouncy, giddy little jig.
I decided that I couldn't be bothered cooking anything fancy, so I settled for spaghetti. I ripped open a packed of spirals and boiled some water. I let the pasta simmer until it was nice and soft, then drained it and dished out two even bowls. Next, I chucked in tomato paste, herbs, garlic, carrot, celery, tomatoes and mincemeat into a big cooking pot.
That should do it. I spooned sauce over the pasta and sprinkled some Parmesan cheese over the top. How's that for a pretty hopeless cook? Chelsea usually cooked and if it was my turn to make dinner, it was takeaway food. But, I wanted to impress Max tonight.
I brought the bowls over to the dining table and put on relaxing background music, plus I lit a few candles, dimming the lights a touch. Max came back in, raising her eyebrows at, well, everything. She eyed the meal.
"Is it edible? I couldn't cook to save my life."
I took a forkful of spaghetti, savouring the delicious taste. Max answered her own questions. "Well, it certainly looks edible. And you're still alive after that mighty mouthful." She plonked down in the seat across from me. She practically inhaled the spaghetti and devoured her second bowl just as fast.
Looking at my open mouth, she grinned self-consciously. "I was hungry. The hospital staff must think I'm anorexic or something. I hardy got anything to eat there."
Chuckling to myself, I grabbed her bowl, shivering at the slight tingle her hand left on mine as they brushed. Max followed me to the kitchen and watched as I washed the two bowls.
Suddenly, she giggled. "You have red sauce all around your mouth!"
I laughed back. "Don't think I'm the only one."
Max scrubbed and wiped her mouth furiously with the back of her hand. I wrung out the washcloth and amused myself staring at her futile attempts to get rid of the sauce stains. I grabbed a napkin.
"Here, let me help you with that." But as I leaned in closer to dab her mouth, I let the napkin drop the ground.
Everything happened in slow motion after that. I vaguely dismissed Max's confused look. Then my lips were on hers and all thought was eradicated from my mind. Except, maybe enough brain cells to register a few slightly inappropriate things I could be doing with Max right now, or soon. She kissed back sweetly, after the initial shock.
Then, I suppose my brain wasn't as fried as I earlier suspected, because I heard the groaning of the unoiled hinges of our front door. And the clack of high heels on the floorboards. I also felt Max try to pull away suddenly.
"What. The. Hell?" Oh. I told you Chelsea was the overdramatic type.
Hip, hip hooray! All done and ready. Enjoy.
Peace out,
SallSall