A/N: I've got it! I have figured out when to end ALL my stories! Well, except my Anime fanfic. (HINT: I haven't updated in FOUR months. It only make sense that I write longer, to satisfy my Anime readers.) The date? Read on to find out. ;)
Chapter 9
Fang POV
Max is ruining my life. Not that she already isn't.
Saying Max is ruining my life sounds a bit strange. Oh, it is. After all, I've been going on and on that I like Max, that she makes me happy, that she's all I think about everyday.
And that's the problem. Because of my thinking about her, I almost got in an accident (for thinking about kissing her) with a bulldozer. I got two speeding tickets (for thinking about how soft her hair is). I spaced out while in the middle of the highway (for thinking about how she's always curious about the quotes I post in the bulletin board) and an angry mob of 50 people were yelling curses and punching all the windows in my car.
One more. Just one more encounter with my Max-obsessed mind and I'll be dead in the middle of the highway, blood splattered all over the asphalt, with a grin plastered in my face while dreaming about making out with Max. Wouldn't that be a noble death?
I have the perfect solution for this: ignore Max altogether. Break all contact with her, no more sidelong glances, no more daydreams about her stubborn personality; I'll even migrate to the Vatican City and live my lifelong dream to become a priest!
One problem: I can't seem to do it. And I'm joking on the last part. What guy would want to be priest? Anyway, I can't just forget Max in a snap. She's an unforgettable woman. The kind that stays with you, in your memory, like a scar. Or a stalker. Or a very embarrassing sight of you in a black speedo. Yeah. . .
I know Nudge noticed my inner turmoil about Max. I feel like I'm relieving high school all over again. Thanks a lot, Max.
I turn the faucet to cold because my high school memories are coming up again. GO AWAY! I shout in my head. Surprisingly, they do. Or maybe it was the cold water. . .
"FANG!" I jump about a foot in the air. God, I'm losing spy skills. I'm usually invulnerable, but because Max had to waltzed in to my life, I turned to a wimpy nerd who's terrified of the slamming of lockers.
I clench my jaw and scrub the pan even harder. "What, Nudge?"
"I'm going to a friend's house. Be back in three hours!" When I don't say "Have a good time", Nudge walks to the kitchen. She pokes my shoulder. I turn my head at her, just as I wash off the soap on the pan. I shake off the excess water and put it on the rack.
"What?" I demand, while drying off the pan.
"You're not saying what you're usually supposed to say." Nudge looks bewildered.
"And?" I open the cabinet where I usually put the pots and pans and put the washed pan back in it.
"You're different today. Is it because of Max?" At the mention of Max, I glare at her. She's biting down her lip to keep from laughing.
"So it is about Max! I knew it! Why don't you tell her you're not gay?"
"Because."
She arches a brow. "'Because'? Is that it? You're afraid! Fang's afraid!" She continues to chant the last sentence while skipping all around the kitchen.
I shake my head. "Just go already."
There's an amusing glint in her brown eyes. "Can't wait to get rid off me?"
Now I smirk. "Go, before I beat you up."
"I know you won't do that."
"Yeah."
As soon as Nudge leaves, I continue to clean the kitchen while turning up the volume on my iPod. I wipe the stovetops clean, the table, and the counter tops.
Why am I cleaning? I want to. Since it's Thanksgiving, I decided to clean the apartment. It has been a long time since I saw the apartment trash-free. And that has been months. And no, it has nothing to do with me trying to drown out my conflicting emotions involving Max.
After wiping, I vacuum the hardwood floor of the kitchen. Satisfied, I move on to the fridge and cabinets. I examine the fridge for expired or already-empty foods and throw them in the trash can. I also look at the food cabinets and throws those foods too.
About thirty minutes later, I'm sweating. I rearranged the furniture in the living room, as well as clean my room and the bathroom Nudge and I share. (She complains that the reason why she's not getting 57 compliments everyday is because I'm always hogging the bathroom. Yeah, right.)
"FANG!"
"OH, SHIT!"
Right in front of me is Max. Grinning at me. While I stand here, my heart ready to burst out of my chest. She waves at me. "Hi!"
"What the hell are you doing here?" I feel like smacking her in the face. Then kiss her. Stupid hormones.
She shrugs and sits on the counter. "I was bored."
"How did you know where I lived?"
She flashes her white teeth. "'In plain sight' isn't actually the best hiding place to hide employee informations."
I shake my head. "How did you get here?"
"Um, your door was open?" Then she walks past me to look at the whole apartment. She even looks inside the closets. "Wow. So you don't own any fishnet tights, knee-high boots, or even a whip."
"Did you think I was a Las Vegas showgirl?"
"That crossed my mind. Then I realized you're too tall and too scrawny to be a showgirl."
Ouch. "Thanks. So why are you here?"
"Doesn't it look obvious?" I shake my head. "Fine. If I have to explain everything to you. I was bored, so I decided to come here and ruin the morning of your Thanksgiving. And judging from the vacuum cleaner and air freshener out, you're already miserable."
"I got it. Now leave."
"Can I stay?" She lays down on my ratty couch. She asked it in such a small voice that I leaned closer to hear it.
"Aren't you going to some Thanksgiving -"
"Can I please stay?" She's looking at me with those gorgeous eyes that I feel like drowning.
"Fine. Don't touch anything."
I hear a crash, as I go back to the kitchen.
"Oops. I touched something."
"Uh-huh. I heard it crash."
"I didn't know you were into cheesy chick flicks," Max points out, as she examines the CD rack.
"What can I say? I'm gay."
"So now you're embracing your gayness?"
"Yep. It really clicks with me."
She laughs. "I can't believe I have a best friend that is gay. This year must be full of firsts for me."
"Like what?" My mind is not interested on her firsts. It's more interested on the whole "best friend" thing. I'm her best friend? I don't. . .
"Like living on my own. Like celebrating Halloween on my own. Like -"
"Everything you've experienced this year has to do with you all alone. Is that why you're here?" I wait for her to answer. She stands up and sits next to me on the couch.
"If I tell you yes, do I get sympathy or pity from you?" I shake my head. "Can I put my head on your lap?" I nod.
"Is that a yes?" I ask. Her hair is sprawled all over my lap, waiting and taunting me to touch and feel. But I resist.
"Yeah. I thought this whole 'freedom' thing was going to be fun. I hate it. I miss my mom."
"Sweetheart, why don't you call her?"
She turns her head and looks up at me. "Did you just call me 'sweetheart'?"
Oh, shit. "Yeah. I'm not allowed? It feels right to me."
"OK. It's weird that I feel like you're comforting me."
"I'm your best friend. You said so. It's what I do."
She pats my hand that is resting on the arm rest. "Thanks for that. Are you going to some Thanksgiving dinner?"
"Iggy asked."
"Are you going?"
"And miss out on the turkey?"
She laughs. "Is food the only thing that occupies your mind?"
If only she knew. Max occupies 90 percent of my brain capacity. The other 10 are food, music, books, and how annoying Nudge's babbling is. "No."
The silence stretches. It's not the awkward kind. It's more like the peaceful one. So I close my eyes and almost take a nap.
Max shakes my knee. "You know the craziest thing?" I don't answer. "Fang? Are you asleep?"
"Yes."
"No, you're not. I asked you a question."
"Hm?"
"Listen to me," She keeps shaking my knee. I slap her hand away. "Fang!"
I glare down at her. "What?"
She doesn't notice my glare. "You know what's the craziest thing?"
"The fact that Justin Bieber was born to this generation that it's corrupting all the minds of pre-teen girls?"
"No. It's the fact that you're always in my mind."
Whoa. Say what?
A/N: It's December 30! I feel like it's really good day to finish the stories. HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE! (And for all the readers that aren't in the US, well, Happy Day!)