Max rinsed off her hands one last time before drying them on the thin towel that laid casually on the counter by the sink, listening to the quietness of the apartment. Zack, in the bathtub, was as silent as the wind, and she wasn't even sure how he could be so silent. It was nearly humanly impossible. But then, she thought with a little bit of sarcasm, we aren't exactly humans-are we? She walked slowly over to the couch and sat down carefully, trying not to spread the sticky jam around the entire house.
Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings. It wasn't that she was against Zack, and what he had initiated, but still… There were so many more issues than them together. For starters, there was Logan. She couldn't forget him, but she surely couldn't be so giving of herself as she had been doing. He, of course, would notice, question, and she would either storm out or spill the beans, causing Zack to leave. Neither of which she wanted. Then, there was the baby. The baby. Max's mind abruptly stopped and zoomed in on the thought of that. She was definitely going to have to talk to Zack about that. After all, it was his child as well-whether he wanted it to be or not.
The door to the bathroom clicked and Max looked up, forcing herself to snap out of the daydreams. The door swung open, and Zack walked out, casually almost. Max refused to believe this, for he was always on guard. He was patting down his face with the black sweater and Max couldn't exactly tell if he was wearing anything besides the jeans. He pulled the sweater away. He wasn't wearing anything else.
Max felt her needed oxygen clench somewhere in her lungs. She had to concentrate to get breathing again. Zack stood before her, staring, slightly confused. The faded jeans he wore, being far too big, hung sloppily on his hips, falling below the normal line of jeans. He clutched the dirty black boots in his left hand-the shoelaces tied together. The black sweater was balled up in his right hand, slightly wet and dripping. Bare-chested, his finely toned muscles were still slightly wet, and glistened with water.
"Max? Are you okay?" he asked her.
"Yeah," she replied dumbly. Don't look at his chest, she told herself. Don't look at it. He noticed her staring stupidly at him and held out the shirt like he was a kid who had just got caught robbing the cookie jar.
"Hey, sorry 'bout the shirt. There wasn't exactly any towels in there, so I figured that this would work. I mean, it's not exactly the best thing to use, but I didn't want to walk around, making puddles about your house."
"Oh, it's okay," she replied, fully coming out of her dazed state. "There's probably another shirt around here…somewhere." She rose and walked towards the bathroom door, ready to fully wash the sticky jelly off of herself. Zack didn't move, he just stood, slightly to the side, watching her as she entered the bathroom. "I'm a big girl," she said to him, "I can take a bath by myself."
"I'd certainly hope so." He stepped slightly out of the way, but not enough, for Max bumped against him as she walked into the bathroom. Neither person apologized, and Max slowly closed the door behind her.
Once inside the bathroom, she leaned against the rickety door, begging it for support that she could not find within herself. Of all the people! Zack! Just calm down, she told herself, it's not like anything happened. Anything happened?! Am I crazy? She took a deep breath and shrugged off her shirt and dropped it on the bathroom counter. Just get a bath and perhaps you'll feel better, she thought.
Max entered the lukewarm water cautiously, like a sea monster was going to come and bite off her toes. Sitting in the water, did help her to feel better, but still, the memories wouldn't go away. Why was Zack staying with her? He was the one always against her stationary positions. And now, look who's eating his words. Did he feel some sort of guilt about the child? Or was he just being overly protective, since the rest of the kids were with Lydecker? With Zack, who knows…
Fully cleaned of the sticky jelly, Max found a towel shoved in the back part of a drawer that Zack wouldn't have checked. She dried herself and threw on a new pair of clothes that she had previously laid out. Zipping up the black jeans, she opened the door and walked out of the bathroom.
The house was deathly quiet and at first Max wasn't worried-Zack was always quiet. It wasn't like him to be noisy. But, when she called his name and nobody answered and she heard absolutely nothing, Max began to worry. Images of Lydecker flooded her skull. That wasn't possible of course, there would have been enough noise that she would've heard something. After all, it had been entirely quiet during the time she was in the bathtub.
Max walked around the counter, quickly scanning for any trace of Zack. She called his name again, and only the gentle breezes outside answered her. "Zack? This isn't funny anymore. C'mon, where are you?" She stopped upon passing her Ninja while circling the tiny apartment.
The bike stood innocently in the position she had left it in only a couple days before. On the seat, a chunk of ripped paper advertising for yoga lessons, had harsh, scribbled writing on it. She picked up the paper in her damp hand and in one quick instant realized it was from Zack. Four single words stood on the paper. Four words that would burn themselves to the very core of Max's brain and eat away at her, filling her with the guilt that she could've done something to prevent this.
"Went back for them."
