A/N: Thank you for your encouraging reviews! Well, I've been on school holidays for exactly 60 days now, and I'm going back to school tomorrow to start Year 11! That means senior, which means I probably won't be uploading as much as usual… BUT, however, I have made quite an accomplishment, uploading a total of 13 chapters over these holidays. The story developed quite a bit from Chapter 6 on. So, without further ado, Chapter 18 at your service!

Chapter 18 – I'm Only Sleeping

Two days ago… Friday night… the night everything changed for me. Max and I had our first kiss under the stars… and it was magical and spontaneous! It just kind of… happened. One minute we were talking about our favourite subject (The Beatles) and then next he had rolled me on top of him. I only wished it had been my first kiss. It was Sunday morning and I was lying on my bed checking Facebook. I hadn't seen Max yesterday. Although the kiss was amazing, we didn't want to risk awkwardness seeing each other the day after. Prowling around Facebook, I found that Patrick was 'now in a relationship.' Who on earth could he be with? Just as I was wondering, Max was messaging me.

Max: Hey xx
Me: hey!
Max: what are you doing?
Me: nothing much, you?
Max: just pining for my girlfriend. Wanna do something today?
Me: Abbey Road, George
Max: What?
Me: Remember our game thing?
Max: Oh, right, yeah. 1 point for you
Me: That's right! Sadie-1, Maxwell-0
Max: shut up! so, do you want to do anything today?
Me: uh… sure! What did you have in mind?
Max: I dunno, you could come over… or I could come over?
Me: which one?
Max: I dunno. Which one would you prefer?
Me: ?
Max: me either
Me: I'll ask mum first
Max: yeah me too

I went and asked Mum if it was alright if I do something with Max today.
"Well sure, I was thinking you should anyway because we are going out with Joan and Bob for lunch," she agreed.
"You are?" my voice squeaked.
"Yeah, I told you didn't I?"
"I don't remember you saying anything of the sort."
"Yeah, I did tell you, yesterday."
"Oh, mustn't have been listening."
"Well I thought if it had anything to do with Max you'd be all ears!"
"Yeah, well my mind wasn't really with it yesterday."
"Why?"
"No reason."
I wouldn't really feel comfortable telling my Mum that the reason I 'wasn't really with it' yesterday was because I had just had my first real kiss the night before and was in a daydream as a result.
"Well we're picking them up, so we'll take you over there when we go."
"Okay!"
I ran upstairs to tell Max that I was coming over. He thought that his Mum had mentioned it in passing as well. I guess we were both still reeling from the kiss.

The three of us got in the car and went to the Edison's residence. When we got there, Max greeted me with a peck on my cheek. Of course his Dad had to do an embarrassing wolf whistle.
"Ah, now we know why they're such space cadets – they're in love!" Joan exclaimed happily.
"We always knew that, Joan," Bob responded.
"But now they're all kissy-kissy. They're at the next level!"
"Well we know what they'll be doing all afternoon," Mum annoyingly commented.
"We will not be!" I assured them, getting annoyed by their over-the-top and strange comments, "There are more important things to do."
"Such as…?"
"Uh, well… play with Max's instruments for starters!"
Our parents giggled amongst themselves hysterically and at that point I realised how wrong what I had just said sounded. I looked at Max – we must've looked like a pair of bright red tomatoes. But it probably wasn't that noticeable at a glance for normal people like our parents, but we could see each other alright.
"We'll just get going," Joan indicated to the door, recovering from her inappropriate laughing fit.
We said our goodbyes and they left. And then the fun started…

"Okay, okay, my turn!"
Max and I were laughing hysterically and we couldn't control ourselves. We were outside in his back garden 'practising' our powers. It was my turn to do something, so I ran over to the fence and peered into the neighbours' yard. They had lots of little kids' toys lying around. I spotted a little car thing and waved my hand, causing it to drive around independently. Max found this absolutely hilarious because he scream-laughed and threw himself against the fence.
"It's my turn now!" he exclaimed in between giggles.
He casually swiped his fingers by his side and a huge gust of wind sent nearly everything in the neighbours' backyard flying.
"Ooh, get rid of the wind and I'll finish it off!" I suggested.
The wind died down and then it was only me holding everything in the air. I made them dance around in perfect synchronized choreography. Max then made lightning strike their clothesline and the clothes caught fire!
"Shit!" Max exclaimed. It was such a shock that I lost control of the dancing toys, making them all fall to the ground with a loud crash. I cringed.
"Make it rain! Make it rain!" I pleaded with a panicky Max.
He motioned for rain with his hand and it then poured down over only the neighbours' property, extinguishing the fire. Everything that was previously aflame was now charred. I felt really guilty, even though I didn't even do it, my boyfriend did. Max was appalled with himself.

The owners of the house came outside to see what all the commotion was and we quickly ducked behind the fence. They were horrified at what they found – scattered and broken belongings and charred clothes.
"I should go over and apologize," Max humbly offered.
"No!" I pulled him back, "What, you're going to go over there and say, 'Oh, sorry, my girlfriend and I were just experimenting with our superpowers and we happened to make your things fly and set your clothes on fire.'?"
"You're right," he sighed.
"We'll just go inside and pretend it never happened…" I lured him away, trying to look inconspicuous. I had learned that Max felt guilty easily. He was very modest and humble, but had also become obsessive and cocky with his powers. We went inside and straight to the kitchen.

"What are we doing in here?" Max asked curiously.
"Don't you want to find out what it was that we reacted to?"
"Oh, yeah…"
"Well, we're going to find out. What was in the spaghetti again? Can you remember?"
"The meat; onion; tomato; olive oil; white wine; tomato soup; basil; Turkish bread…" he listed the things on his fingers. As he was saying each ingredient, I was looking in cupboards and the fridge trying to find the things.
"Okay, why don't you be a good boy and help me find the ingredients. It is your house after all. You should know where everything is kept."
I ended up finding about three ingredients using my uncanny sense of smell whilst Max found the rest after knowing where they were kept. We took all eight items to the dining room table… the same one where we had the minor disaster on Friday night.
"Okay, we try half each?" I suggested.
"Bags the Turkish bread!" he yelled loudly.
"No, I want it!"
"I do!"
"No, me!"
"It's my Turkish bread. This is my house!"
"Just stop!" I put my hands up, "There are some things that I don't like. Such as onion and tomato."
"I don't particularly like them either."
"Some of this stuff needs cooking…" I looked doubtfully at the items we had on the table in front of us.

"Let's group things," Max suggested and I nodded, "Well the tomato and tomato soup are practically the same, so they go together."
"Yep, and I don't think it would be meat. I mean, we've had meat before and haven't reacted."
"Okay, so that leaves then onion, wine, bread, basil and olive oil."
We gathered things seriously and put them into groups.
"I don't trust you with the wine," I told him.
"What?" he was appalled.
"You know youths these days. Alcoholics at fifteen."
"Hey, you're the same age as me!"
"I'm more reliable," I stuck my nose in the air. Max groaned.
"You are not."
"Fine, we'll leave that one till last. It might not be that one anyway, so we might not even get to it."
"I bags the bread."
"No! I'll have the bread, basil and onion."
"No fair! Why do I get the foul one?"
"Well someone has to have it!"
"I'm not having olive oil on it's own. That's foul!"
"I guess we won't do that one either," I picked up the bottle with a sigh and plonked it with the wine.
"That leaves just the tomato products with me," he smiled, proud of himself.
"No fair! You have to have two as well! Then it's even."
"Fine, I'll take the bread."
"Anything but the bread!"
"The basil."
"But I don't like onion!"
"Then why did you choose it?"

The endless fighting. Sigh.
"Because I don't like tomato or olive oil any better!"
"But I-."
"ABBEY ROAD!" I yelled loudly and quickly over the top of him. He had a confused look on his face. Then I whipped my notebook out of my pocket.
"Agh!" Max made an aggravated sound, mocking my method.
"That's Sadie – 2 and Max – 0," I said softly with my eyebrows raised, tallying.
"Can we just get back to what we were doing?"
"Let It Be…" I said in a sing-song voice as I tallied another point for myself.
"Let It Be!" Max exclaimed.
"I already said it!"
"You said Let It Be, which is a song, and I'm saying what album it's from."
"It doesn't work like that. Just because Let It Be is a both a song and an album-."
"ABBEY ROAD AND LET IT BE!"
This would go on forever. We would be saying Let It Be back and forth forever. Let It Be. Bum, now I was playing with myself!
"Okay, that's enough!"
"I get three points!"
"What? No you don't!"
"Yes I do! I said… you know what."
"No, they don't count, I told you!"
"Yes they do! Give me my three points!"
"Fine!" I gave in and gave him three points, "Now back to this."

I ended up with the bread and onion and Max ended up with the tomato and basil. Max had some tomato and I had some bread first. We had to wait a while because we knew that the effects wouldn't set in straight away.
"Do you feel anything?" Max asked me after we sat there for two minutes.
"Nup, you? No burning sensation?"
"Nothing."
"Do you want to go on to the next one or wait – Rubber Soul."
"Bum." He chastised himself and I tallied a point for me.
"So?"
"I'm feeling absolutely nothing I shouldn't – lets go on to the next ones."
Max gingerly ate bits of basil – you just don't eat herbs on their own like that. I hesitantly tried the onion – I actually hate onion. Unless, of course, it's in delicious spaghetti or something like that. The onion was so displeasing I nearly spat it out! Max laughed at me.
"You should see your face!" he laughed hysterically at me and pointed a finger at me.
"I told you I don't like onion!" I screamed back at him, choking on scaly and crunchy bits of the disliked vegetable.
"You picked it…"
"I know! I wanted the basil!"
"Well what if you wanted one and it turned out to be the one. You wouldn't want it then, would you?"
"No… but it would save me from this discomfort!"
"Did you swallow it?"
"Yes."
"Sadie..."
"I can't! It'll make me feel sick!"
"Just do it," he ordered in a strained voice, obviously fed up with my fussiness.

I swallowed the remaining bit in my mouth with great difficulty.
"See? It wasn't so bad, was it? If you don't swallow it, how are we supposed to know if it's the one or not?"
"Process of elimination."
"Okay, now we have an interval," he so obviously avoided using the word 'wait'. He probably thought I would get in with Rubber Soul first. We sat impatiently for a few minutes and nothing happened on either side.
"Well, what next?" he asked. I excitedly held up the wine bottle and made an over-excited face.
"Not this argument again!"
"We can both have it," I suggested.
"I'll pour," he tried grabbing for the bottle but I pulled it away.
"No, I will!"
"No, I-," he stopped mid-sentence to blurt out something I didn't pick up on, "The White Album!"
"Poo."
"I get a point!" he sang, doing a little victory dance in his seat.
"Shush," I was a little pissed off that he had realised before me. I tallied for him. Then we resumed fighting over the wine bottle.
"ME!"
"ME!"
It was so childish but typical boyfriend-girlfriend disagreement (I supposed). Probably. I wouldn't know. We were standing on opposite sides of the table and both holding the wine bottle over the middle of the table. We were giving each other annoyed, aggravated and competitive looks. But just then the front door opened and the four parents stepped inside, seeing their children fighting over a bottle of wine. Mine and Max's heads both snapped to look at them at the same time. A handbag was dropped.

A/N: Okay, so just fluff and arguments in this chapter, but I wanted to get it out before tomorrow! They're always getting in trouble with their parents (or giving them the wrong idea), aren't they? Haha, random last line, eh?

Penny for your thoughts?