I don't even know what to say on behalf of this chapter. It's awful, poorly written, short, and extremely random. I'm experiencing writer's block…. Well maybe not writer's block, I've just been extremely busy with basketball this week and I forced myself to write this chapter instead of letting the ideas come to me like I normally do. So I'm sorry but this chapter SUCKS. Also, I'm sorry for the very late update. Gah, I'm freaking sorry for everything! Haha. Ummm what else? Have I mentioned that this chapter SUCKS? Gee, I really am sorry for this. Feel free to chew me out in your REVIEWS. I could really use some reviews! Like really bad! I need inspiration. Please don't give up on this story because of this chapter! I promise it'll be back to normal as soon as possible, I just felt like I had to yall SOMETHING.

Oh yeah I wanted to address a review! Um someone asked me if Max and Fang did "it". And the answer is, YES. Max and Fang did the dirty. FINALLY! I'm sorry if I was too vague for that to come across, but I was trying to keep it Rated T. Um I did talk about how Max experienced pain and that Fang took things slow… um yeah and even the next morning Fang asks her if she is in pain and she says she is sore. And Max tries to leave the room because she knows Fang is still naked under the covers and doesn't want to be around to react to that sight.

Okay. On with this awful, FLUFF filled chapter. Please note that this chapter is in Fang POV!

KarleeRay

Fang POV

"It wasn't your fault," Max insists, staring down Trent like she stares me down when we're having an argument. She has that look on her face, the one that says she's not going to stop until you see things her way. When Trent doesn't answer, Max turns to me, exasperated. "Tell him! Tell him, Fang. Tell him it's not his fault so he'll stop acting like this."

My gaze shifts to Trent, who is sitting on the end of Max's bed. Truth be told, even though I know it's ridiculous, I do kind of blame Trent for what happened. It's obvious to anyone that it wasn't his fault, but some part of me won't let it go. If Max had been with me instead of him, she wouldn't be sporting a black eye and swollen lip. Those jerks wouldn't have even touched her. I would have taken care of them from the start….. Of course, that is the over-protective-boyfriend in me talking so I might be a little biased.

I sigh. "It wasn't your fault, bud."

Max smiles. "See? No one blames you, especially not me, and it'd be really cool if I could have my best friend back instead of this freaking zombie you have become!"

Trent throws a grin at her. I could see the fakeness of it from a mile away, but Max seems pleased.

"I'm gonna head out," Trent says, hopping up off of the bed. He strides towards the door, stopping in the doorway. He gives Max and I a wicked grin. "Don't you two go doing anything I wouldn't do!"

Max rolls her eyes, walking over to her bed. My eyes track her movements, drinking in every part of her. I silently admire the way my baggy sweat pants hang just a tad too low on her slender hips, the way her tank top hugs her tiny torso, revealing the smallest amount of her stomach.

I get up, following her to the bed, and lie down beside her. She sighs, heavily, and I turn to face her. "What is it?"

Troubled brown eyes flicker up to mine. "I just feel bad for him."

Trent. She feels bad for Trent. She shouldn't. Max should feel sorry for Max. She was the one who got beat up. "Don't," I murmur, reaching out to brush hair out of her eyes. My fingertips roam over her face, tracking all the swollen bumps that don't belong there. I lean forward, bring my lips to her face as if I can kiss away the pain.

She trembles just slightly under my feather light touch, and my mouth quirks up into the slightest of smiles. Memories from the other night come rushing back to me, the way Max felt under my fingertips, the way her naked body curved perfectly into mine, the way she arched her back in pleasure, silently driving me crazy. I honestly don't think she knows the affect she has on me. Sure. I'm Mister Emotionless, but if what I feel for Max isn't "head over heels" in love, then I don't know what is. I've never been a touchy-feely kind of guy. Locking away my feelings was always something that I did, and, at first, I hated the way Max could pull things out of me. Then, I learned to rely on her, to take comfort in having someone, anyone, who understands me. And Max did. Does. We have always been completely in sync, basically reading each other's minds since we were born. In my opinion, if you have someone like that, well you better snatch them up and hang on for dear life.

Max smiles, slightly, and the air around us seems lighter. "I love you," she murmurs, tucking her head into my chest. I swear, I would never get tired of hearing that. After all the time I spent trying to get Max to realize her feelings for me, I would never take a moment with her for granted. My arms wind around her waist, and I bury my nose into her hair as if I can hide there and never come out.

She pulls back to look at me. "What? I don't get one back?"

That gets me, and my mouth turns up in a half smile. "I love you too, Max." I lean forward until our mouths are centimeters apart. "So much," I breathe, waiting for her to close the distance between us. Finally, she does, bringing the fierceness in her kiss that I have learned to crave. My hands slide over her back, fingers trailing over her wings. Her tongue flickers against my bottom lip, begging entrance. My intent was to make her wait, to tease her, but I often lose control around Max, and my mouth opens on its own accord. Our tongues meet, tangling themselves in a wrestling match. A groan builds itself up in my throat, but I force it back down.

Too soon, Max pulls away. "Hey! What gives?" I ask her.

"Our relationship can't just be physical you teenage boy you," Max teases. It's clear, to me at least, that she doesn't mean what she says, that she would love to bring her lips back to mine.

I feel my eyes roll. "What do you want to do then?"

"We could just talk, you know," She suggests, smiling softly. "I'm still your best friend."

God, why is she so cute? Yeah. I said it. Max is cute… sexy, beautiful, gorgeous, whatever you want to call it.

"Okay sweetie," I murmur, pulling her back into my chest where she belongs.

So we talk. For hours, at least. Admittedly, Max does most of the talking while I just watch, intrigued by her very word. She makes me laugh, three times, in one hour. She's the only person on this earth that can do that. I watch, amused, as her eyelids begin to droop, as her speech starts to turn into a delirious mess. She begins to laugh a little too much at things that aren't funny and I know that it's time to sleep. Without a word, I turn her over, spooning her from behind. She doesn't even fight me, just sighs happily when I tell her that I love her for the second time that night.