This chapter's song is: Absolutely (story of a Girl) by Nine Days
Fang stood quickly, in the hopes of going after her, but he knew it was no use. If she wanted to be caught, she never would've left. But her words stabbed at his heart as he buried his face in his hands. Why, oh, why had he been stupid enough to think that his departure might make things better?
He wasn't going to sugarcoat; he had hoped that his early arrival might make things better. He had pictured her looking up at him in wonder, then running into his arms crying. And he would've held her tight and kissed and made everything better. But he'd only made it worse.
Now Max was angry, hurt and missing. And he was heartbroken, miserable, and rejected. Could things get worse?
Fang slid down off the roof and into the window Max had left open, then followed the first hallway he found. There were eight doors. One was open—Max's room. The light was on, but he knew it was hers from the cleanliness.
It was plain—because that was how Max did it. She didn't get attached to anything. She made everything easier to grab if she had to run. The green bedspread matched the walls and the pillows, but that was all in the room that made it appear anyone was living in it. All the drawers in her dresser were closed. Her closet doors were pulled tight, blinds were drawn. One her desk, her laptop was in its case and her cell phone charger was coiled neatly next to it. Nothing else was on the desk.
The smell really, was the only thing he recognized—like strawberries and watermelon—the soap she'd been using since she was eleven… He could recognize it anywhere.
With an exhausted sigh, he collapsed into the bed, burying his face in the pillow and breathing deeply. He stripped down to his boxers (black, of course!) and crawled under the covers… he would probably regret it the morning, sleeping in her bed. But he didn't care… the smell was just a reminder that she was still alive, that she wasn't just a figment of his imagination.
"Fang, FANG!" Max's voice filtered into Fang's dreams, and a warm hand shaking his shoulder made his eyes fly open. They instantly alighted on Max's honey-colored eyes which were very, very close to his. He almost kissed her… then remembered that she still hated him. "'Sup?" he asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
"Fang, why are you asleep in MY bed?" she asked, sighing impatiently. She flicked a piece of wavy brown hair away from her eyes impatiently, and Fang took notice to the new haircut. Long layers-almost to her chest. her bangs fell across her right eye, and were intentionally sharp and ragged, accentuating those sharp cheekbones and upturned amber eyes. Fang frowned, and then looked down at the green blanket covering his legs. He looked back at Max, just in time to see her brown, bloodshot eyes flick down to his bare chest then back to meet his eyes. He saw her blush then swallow hard. Fang smirked. He stood and lowered his lips to her ear.
"Like what you see, babe?" he asked breathily, "Take a picture." He saw Max wince then shiver slightly, her eyes focusing on a point on the blank wall. Fang smirked again. She would cave in no time. "Get away from me," she growled, her eyes narrowing fractionally.
Fang shrugged and walked away, towards the bathroom he'd seen in the hallway the night before. The dazzling smirk remained on his lips—just being back with Max, seeing her face, her eyes, her lips, her body… after so long drove him insane, but in the good way.
"Fang?" Max's small voice broke his thoughts, and the steady silence that had fallen over the house. He was sitting on the couch, clicking away on his latest laptop. She'd been in the kitchen, reading or something…
The other members of the flock had yet to return, save for Dylan and Iggy, who'd returned at about eight-ish. They'd pounded on the door and Max hadn't hesitated on shoving Fang in a closet, then letting them in.
"They're drunk," Max had explained afterwards, "And I don't need them yelling and waking up my mom."
"Hmm?" Fang asked, not looking up from his laptop. "We need to talk." Fang pushed the computer off his lap, he knew this conversation would come up sooner or later.
"Are you staying?" Max asked after a long pause. She perched herself awkwardly on the coffee table opposite the couch he was sitting on. Fang couldn't help but admire for a moment the way her thin tank top had ridden up to reveal her tan, toned belly. He swallowed, then met her eyes again. Fang's head bobbed slightly for a moment, "Can I?" He finally asked, playing it safe. "Yeah, of course," Max answered quickly. "The kids would hate me if I let you go again," Max whispered, hanging her head. "They wouldn't know," Fang pointed out, surprising himself. "Angel." Max replied, and in that one word he understood.
"Then, yes, Max. Absolutely. I'm staying." Fang said. He picked himself up off the couch and stretched. "I'm going to go get my stuff from my car… be back in a few." And with that, Fang was gone.