Chapter 4: Meet in Person

Max was on her way home from work, speaking to her mother on the air pod in her ear.

"That's good, mom. This new doctor sounds like he knows what he's doing."

"Oh, baby, he really does! I haven't felt this mentally aware in years! Like the… colours of the world are talking to me, shining on me! Everything is just coming together, like I didn't even realize I was sick till now, you know? Plus, helps he's a chocolatey Indian hunk. Woo!"

Max grimaced, "Ugh, mom. Please."

"Oh, you're such a square all of a sudden! If you'd just go out and get yourself a hunk, we'd be able to talk about this stuff."

"I'm your child, mom. I don't want to know about the chocolate hunk. Even if I had a boyfriend."

"You don't even need a boyfriend, sweetheart. You just need to get your feathers ruffled here and again. Come on, you're a twenty-five year old woman living in the city. You should have men coming in and out of your apartment like a damn prostate clinic."

Max sputtered a laugh, "Jesus Christ. Mother!"

Her mother erupted in the fun-loving, unbridled, shameless laugh she'd always crack. The laugh that felt like home, and undeniable to not smile when hearing it.

"You know I love you, baby! I taught you the birds and bees. Wrap the willy and pee afterwards, all that jazz. I know you'd be smart with it. Then again, I wouldn't mind being a grandma!"

"Okay, okay. There's a thin line, and you just crossed it."

Her mother flurried another chortle then asked after a few breaths, "So, got that shit cleared up with that ass hat commissioner? I don't need to fly to Gotham with a baseball bat, right?"

"Mom, that's a police officer, and yes, I squared things away. Still no crime journaling, but I'm keeping busy with an online thing. I'm fine."

Then a sharp gasp came from the phone, and glimpse of silence. Her mother's voice inflated like helium, "You meet any guys on this online website?"

Max was about to blurt a 'no', but Puzzle King was a prominent and stalling name keeping her from saying it. There was a seldom part of her that did want to share with her mother, but at the stage of it, there was nothing to share. Her silence was too long in regard to her mother. Far too long.

"You did, didn't you?! Yes, I knew it! What's his name? Give me details, come on!"

"I gotta go, mom. I'm home."

"What? You can't spill the beans and not eat them with your mother, Maxine Atkins!"

"Oh, I'm breaking up. I'm entering the stairwell. Bad service. Hello? Hello?"

"You are not breaking up! Would you just…"

She hung up on her as she walked up to the second floor of her apartment, giggling in her throat. The isle was quiet, except for the laughter of the other tenants in their rooms. Their kids playing, the televisions blaring, the stomps and music going. It was all lively, except for her apartment. She walked into just the buzz of her fridge as usual, the echoing ruffles of her removing her coat and shoes. She microwaved supper, went to her room to change out of her clothes and into a tee shirt and pajama bottoms.

After she ate, she finished the rest of her draft on her laptop and emailed to Cindy. It was nearing 8pm. With nothing to do she slumped on the couch in the dark. Only the light from the kitchen beaming in. The clock ticking and the casual steps from her neighbours in the apartment complex were only heard.

She opened her Nigma app and there he was, waiting for her.

"Got home safe?" Puzzle King's message was thirty minutes old. She hoped he'd respond given the frame missed.

"Yeah, I'm home. Finished my draft. Ate a cup of expired noodles. You know, chilling. You?"

"Finished a game on Nigma, now I'm indulging myself talking to you again."

"Am I making your night better? (:"

"Soooo much better."

"Haha. You're doing the same for me, sir. ;)"

"I like when you call me sir."

"You can call me, ma'am?"

"Would you like that, ma'am?"

"Would be so much better if I heard your voice say it."

He took a while to reply, and she pushed the conversation further.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"You're not a married guy with a couple of kids, are you?"

"No. Not at all."

"So… you're single?"

"Yeah. Are you?"

"Yup."

There was shared silence. Puzzle King wasn't responding, nor adding to the conversation. She didn't take it personally. She figured he didn't know what to say. Maybe he was shaking at the keyboard, unable to conjure the next step as easily as she could. Maybe he wanted her to?

She looked around her apartment. It was empty and clean, smelling like dryer sheets and coffee. She had been lonely for a while, too long to ignore the feeling. There was excitement to think a man could be here, too. Too exciting to think about it clearly. She wanted the conversation to keep going, but she wanted more.

"You wanna play a game?" She typed to him, exhaling long and softly as she did so.

"I love games."

She bit her lip and smiled, "Wanna play 'Meet In Person?'"

Silence again. She tucked the top of her phone under her nose and squinted her eyes, praying and fearing for that buzz. There was a fear of rejection, but there was a fear of acceptance. The latter far more thrilling.

Then her phone buzzed, she flicked the phone upright to read his reply, "Where do you wanna meet?"

The fictional voice she granted to Puzzle King was so vivid in her mind. She raised her brows and clenched down her shaking, "At my apartment."

"You want me to come to your place?"

"Yes."

"That's a good game…" He typed, making her cheeks ache from smiling, "What do we do when I get there, ma'am?"

She audibly giggled in her throat, shuffling around in her seat, "That's the fun of the game. It's a surprise."

"What's your address?"

"51120 Archbold Ave Unit 2. I'm 454. Westinson Apartments."

"You live close to me. I can be there in 20 minutes. Is that okay?"

"Yup. I'll be waiting for you."

It looked like he was typing. Then the three dots disappeared, and he went offline. Max stared at her phone, she stared at the time. It was 8:45pm. He'd be there approx. 9:05pm. She suddenly sprang from the couch with an urgency. Her phone went flying to the other side of the couch. She sprinted to the bathroom. She ripped the brush through her hair, applied deodorant and perfume to her neck and wrists. She was wearing an oversized tee and stained pajama bottoms. She tripped over herself to the bedroom and went through her clothes.

Jeans are too much. Sweatpants? No, you have a guy coming over! Um, okay. Okay, maybe leggings. Yes! Leggings are good. They sculpt your ass. They're not too much or too little. They'll be a bitch for him to take off though. Wait… am I having sex tonight?!

She fought from the thought and pulled them up, anyway. She took out a v-line tee and a cardigan to wear. Her black hair looked good down; she wouldn't put it up.

Chill out, you're probably not having sex. You haven't even met this guy. You don't know what he looks like, you don't know his name.

Then it hit her like a sack of bricks. Suddenly the flutters in her tummy shifted to rippling panic.

Oh… my fucking GOD. I just invited some rando here! I gave him my address! You don't know this guy, you dipshit! Girl, you live by yourself. You weigh 125 pounds! Are you stupid?!

She then rallied warfare as she was digging for socks.

Don't say that. You may not know him, but you do. You've talked to creeps online before, you know the signs. He didn't give any signs. He's not a creep.

She went to the bathroom sink to apply light make up, and her reflection spoke back to her.

"It's not too late to cancel. He probably hasn't left yet."

She opened the mirror cabinet begrudgingly and spoke back, "No. I'm not canceling. I'm not hurting him like that."

She closed the mirror and her reflection chastised again, "Yeah. You know, unless he's a rapist. You're gonna really hate those boundary issues, then."

Max left the bathroom and sped walked to her kitchen. She pulled out the wine and two glasses.

People lie all the time online, Max. It's literally the scape of lying.

She sat at her table uneasily tapping the wood with her nails. What-be-nots and what-be-coulds were coming to her door. Imagined or a prediction, the worst possible outcomes.

The door knocked. She opened to a sweaty, obese dude with a receding hair line. Gravy stains on his shirt.

"Hey there, ma'am. Puzzle King, here. I have a puzzle for you. Wanna guess my mass index?"

The door slams. She's back at the table waiting. Another door knock, could it be him this time?

Of course not. A damn teenager! What is he, thirteen?!

"You lied about your age?!"

"It's the internet, baby. I'm really mature for my age, though. Got any first-person shooters?"

She slammed that door in her mind harder than the last one.

The door opens. An old man with one of those 1950's caps and a cane. Looking like he was two blinks from long term care.

"Hello, dearie. Now I know I lied about my age, but I'm a real down to earth guy if you give me a chance. And I got one hell of a life insurance plan." *wink*

Door slams. Another scenario gone wrong. Another confirmation she made the most obviously wrong choice.

Door opens. Oh great, a woman. Baseball cap and long tee-shirt. Piercings sparkling her face as she suggestively grinned.

"You're not a guy?!"

"Nah. I identify as a guy, babe. Don't knock it till you try it."

SLAM. Who else? Who else could it be? Should we jump to the worst scenario. Fuck it! Let's!

The door opened again, this time with a lanky guy wearing a dirty old trench coat and a beanie. He smiled a row of yellow teeth and grumbled, "Sup babe. Certified sex offender here. I got a thing for the small Asian chicks, too. This is a real jackpot. Wanna see my penis?"

"Don't even think about it!"

He peeled open his trench coat and flashed her then and there. Real or not, it was enough to make her scream in her mind, and flinch at her table. She buried her face in her hands and stressed, "The fuck did you just do, Max."

She sat in silence for some time, loathing the possible outcome of her actions. Meeting a guy online was never her fancy, always seemed like something the desperate losers would do to meet a partner. The situations rarely worked out well, and those were dating sites. This was merely a fringe game website that had a small cult following and was known for its anonymity. Meeting the perfect stranger was far too good to be true.

Another tall tale in my life gone wrong.

Then the intercom from downstairs buzzed for her unit. She got up from the table quick and answered. Her voice hesitated in making a noise, but she rasped, "Hello?"

The intercom was fuzzy but caught his voice, "Um, this is Puzzle King. Here to see… Miss Journalist." His voice was slight, soft and pleasing. A voice she wasn't suspecting compared to what she imagined in her head, but curiously she liked it far more.

"That's me," she breathed a smile, "Come on up."

She opened the gate for him downstairs. She raced to the window to try and catch a glimpse of him before he walked in. She caught the last frame of his right shoulder going through the doors, and his shadow behind. He was tall, medium build, but that's all she could make out. He had a backpack on, anything else wasn't distinct in the dark.

She stopped in the hallway to her living room and kitchen for a moment. She twiddled her fingers and tried to manage her breath, but it escaped her more and more with every wheeze. She could hear the doors to the stairwell cry open as they did. Steps coming closer down the hall and to her door.

Should I open it and catch a glimpse? Make sure he's not a creep? No. Stop it and just wait. If you have to scream, scream. Shirley next door will hear it and call the police.

Puzzle King was a real person, and he was heading to her door. Then a real knock was heard. The actual knock that would confirm the face to those words on screen. Max fluffed her hair and pressed the top of her soles to the door, not wanting to stomp or show aggression. She dislodged the locks and turned the knob. The door frame passed her face, and she leaned out to catch a look like a timid deer. Her eyes straight she was looking at a beige button up framed in a sage open jumper and black raincoat. He was holding a takeout container in his hand, small. She blinked and looked up to his face. He was indeed tall, Caucasian, short and brown shaggy hair and large glasses reflecting off the hallway lights. His cheeks were a bit red from the chilly walk. He had a round face, dimples on each side of his chin, small lips and a straight but slightly upturned nose, like a Greek sculpture. She caught one glance of him and couldn't tear her eyes away. She was taking in all of his features and blemishes. He had sad green eyes, stressed brows like a puppy. He was visibly nervous, unable to tangle together a sentence no more than she was. Max was startled for a moment, but discreetly so relieved.

Oh my god! He's so cute! Not nearly what I imagined, but exactly what I should have imagined. He's exactly who was writing me. He's actually here!

Max flicked a smile and squeaked, "Hi!"

He sighed, "Hi." He released his breath.

She opened the door wider, "Come in."

He walked in fast but carefully, a bit of rain drying on his coat. She closed the door behind him, and she went to say 'Wanna drink?' But before she could, he blurted out, "I got you pie."

She pressed down the door to lock it and asked, "What?"

He was jittering in his place, holding up the container slightly, "It's… it's a pumpkin pie. I got it for you."

He held the container to her, and she took it with a smile, "Thanks. I love pie."

"Yeah, it's good."

They stood for an awkward amount of time in the walkway, only their breath with the shuffling of his coat.

"I can take your coat." She muttered, holding out her hands.

He flinched a little then started taking it off for her to hang, "Right. Thanks."

She hung it by her own, and he tepidly took his shoes off at the rack. She flicked her eyes to him and smiled, "You can make yourself at home. I got wine on the table, feel free to have some."

"Sure. Right. Thanks." He clasped his hands together and flatly smiled, a general awkwardness about him she couldn't help but find endearing. She took the pie from the boot rack and went and set it in the fridge. He sat at the table, glancing around to his surroundings. Taking in the impressions of her home. It wasn't middle class but wasn't lower class living. There were a few paintings on the walls in the kitchen, a few magnets and pictures on the fridge of her family. Two chairs at the table, a coffee maker on the counter. A pink flowery dish mat with a few dishes sitting to dry, a pan with two eggs sitting inside of it. A pleasant smell of cleaning product, coffee, and perfume from the woman alone with him. He watched her come into the room. Her black hair washed over her shoulders like velvet, shimmering off the lights. She sat down at the table with him and eagerly poured herself a glass of wine, not even saying a word.

I need to calm my nerves.

She coughed and winced from the strong taste.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm… a lot more nervous than I thought I'd be."

He creased a small smile, his eyes still sad but inviting, "Yeah, me too. Um, you're really pretty. I knew you'd be pretty, but I wasn't expecting…"

She giggled, "What?"

"You're like… captivating. You're the most beautiful woman that's ever looked at me so I'm…" He squinted his eyes and took his wine glass and chugged, he shook his head a bit and looked down to his hands, "I'm sorry. I'm really nervous, too."

"You're not what I was imagining, either. You show up and you're just this… adorable dork. You're super tall, you have the sweetest voice. What I was expecting was… pretty lacklustre now. I've never had a guy alone in this apartment. So, I have no idea what the fuck to do."

She giggled near the end, making him sputter a laugh through his lips and smile.

"We can start with names, right?"

"Yeah," she replied, nodding in an ebullient smile, "Yeah, we should really get to that. I'm Maxine. Maxine Atkins. Most people just call me Max. And you…"

"Edward." He said, smiling down to his fiddling hands, "Edward Nashton. I don't have a cute nickname."

Max giggled, "No one calls you Eddie?"

"No. Some people do, but it's… usually in a patronizing way."

"Edward is good. Better than Puzzle King, no offence."

Edward laughed in his throat, "Max is good. Better than Miss Journalist or… what she…"

"What she doing twenty-six? Yeah, way better. Less stress with Max."

There was silence for a time and some eye contact, but surprisingly less awkward the more they gazed at each other.

Edward slumped a bit over the table, his eyes set to her like he was staring at a sunset, "God… you're… you're so pretty," he laughed down to his hands, making her giggle nervously in response. "I'm sorry. I can't stop looking at you. You're the girl, the girl that was messaging me on Nigma? Like, that's really you?"

"That's really me."

"You're not… disappointed at all?"

"Why would I be disappointed?" Max shook her head in amusement.

"Cause I'm not what you were expecting? I mean… a girl like you comes to the door to see a guy like me? You must have been a little bit disappointed, right?"

"Not at all. What are you talking about? I was so fucking relieved when I saw you on the other end of my door. I was having a panic attack because I literally invited some stranger to my house. Worst decision with the best outcome possible. A super cute guy on the other end, he's handsome and shy… tall, which I should mention is a huge bonus for me. He is giving me like zero creep vibes. You match perfectly with who you are on Nigma, like perfectly. I'm counting my lucky stars right now. Like… you're perfect." Max subtly winced, knowing she was panic rambling.

"You're perfect." He said, staring up as he tilted his head.

She bit her lip and beamed another smile. There was definitely a magnetic connection, she wanted to pull closer. Max was now seeing their current setting as an obstacle.

I need to make out with this guy.

"Wanna go to the couch? The light is pretty intense in here."

Edward flicked his eyes to the lamp above and nodded, "Uh. Yeah."

Max got up first and Edward followed. They progressed through the hallway into Max's quiet apartment. They reached the carpet of the living room and shuffled to the love seat by the window. She turned on the lamp on the end table and Edward sat beside her, pressed into the arm rest.

"So, tell me about you. You're a complete mystery to me. It's sexy but I need answers."

Edward smiled down to his hands and looked along the living room, "You've got a nice home."

"Thanks. What about your home. Where do you live?"

"Uhh…" He laughed nervously.

"You know where I live, only fair I know where you live."

"Those… dingy apartments by the east station. 64th street."

Max raised a brow at that, "Dodgy place. Damn… I hate east station."

"Yeah, it's not great. Been trying to move but it's hard."

"Yeah, I hear you. Where did you live before there?"

Edward caught a glimpse of her eyes and replied sullenly, "Orphanage."

"That's where you grew up?"

"Sadly, yes. Wasn't uh… idyllic childhood, so to speak."

Max tucked her hand under her chin and asked, "No fond memories?"

"I'm trying to think but… No. No fond memories. I've never really had… fond memories."

"You seem so tortured," Max observed sadly, "Makes me wanna… hold you and take it away."

Edward felt comfortable enough to rest his head over his wrist as he had his arm over the back of the couch. He said, "Can't say anyone has. Maybe that's the answer I've been looking for."

Max smiled, "Me?"

"Yeah," he replied, his eyes captivated to her own, "Maybe it's you."

She beamed another smile and brought her feet up to the couch, tucking her knees to her chest, "You had a girlfriend before or?"

"No," Edward chuckled, "No girlfriends. You're… probably the closest thing I've ever had in that retrospect."

"That's pretty forward, sir." Max giggled suggestively, biting her lip a certain way.

"Just telling you the truth, ma'am."

Max giggled, a small quip they had online before meeting now displaying in person was unexpectedly exciting.

Max asked again teasingly, "Are you gay?"

Edward shook his head, not even breaking eye contact with a blink, "No. I wouldn't be here if I was."

"So, let me get this straight. I'm the first girl you've shown interest in. You've never shown interest in a girl before me?"

"More like none have shown interest in me."

"I find that hard to believe."

"It's true. I'm not… one girls like. They go for guys who talk and guys who achieve. Guys who walk around the office like they deserve to be there. Guys unlike me."

"Makes me pretty lucky, then. They've saved you for me."

"Now that's pretty forward," he grinned titillatingly, "I'm yours, now. Am I?"

"Do you want to be mine, Edward?"

He smiled bright, pressing it down and rubbing his eyes under his lenses, "God… my cheeks hurt. You're making me smile so much, I didn't realize till now."

Max laughed, "I know, my face is aching."

He rubbed his cheekbones as Max took another sip from her glass. He let her set it down to the end table and asked, "What about you? Something tells me you at least had some kind of idyllic childhood."

"What makes you say that?"

"The pictures on your fridge."

Max scrunched her nose and rested her head to her hand again, "Yeah. I was raised in Blue Valley, Nebraska. A town so small it's barely a name. I grew up with two parents and two cats and two fish. Two best friends. Two bicycles. But… only one sister."

"She… died, right?"

"Yeah. She didn't just die… she was taken. Murdered."

Edward straightened up, "Tell me about it."

Max blew air out and gripped her knees, "I was five. She was eight. We were at this campground outside Webbler Springs, a little town by Coast City. We were on vacation in this sky-blue Volkswagen 89 camper van my dad revered like a third child. We had… a lot of memories in that van. A lot that come back unexpectedly when I get a smell of upholstery. All good memories. Sweet and careless, like everyday a child should have. I still remember the ice cream making my fingers sticky. It probably painted my face, but I was too blissful to care. We made it to this park on our bikes. My sister didn't need the training wheels, so she had to keep stopping till I'd catch up. I was just worried my elephant stuffy would slip out of my arms, so I had to keep stopping."

Edward was entranced in her voice wispily telling the story, "A deep contrast between our childhoods here."

Max batted her eyes to the floor, "You haven't heard the whole story, that's why. We made it to the park. We were playing this pirate game where I'd have to keep mopping the decks as she steered the ship. She always got the cool roles. Even so, I loved playing with her so much that I barely noticed the white van circling the park for the last ten minutes."

Edward's trance went vacant and cold, knowing where the story was heading.

Max was now looking down to her hands, "I lost… my stupid stuffed animal. I loved that thing; I couldn't even go to the park without it. I was screaming and crying, you know. I was throwing a fit, and my sister wanted to help. She told me to keep playing and she'd go find the stuffy for me. I trusted her. I remember sinking my hands into the sandbox. Not a care in the world as the engine of that van was a yard behind me. My sister was a yard behind me. The van drove off, and my sister was gone."

"She was kidnapped?"

"I told my dad as soon as I noticed she was gone, I was scared. I couldn't find her, and it was… more than I could comprehend back then. I don't remember much of those 48 hours other than how… petrified my parents were. They were completely out of their own bodies, and I felt like I was living with strangers. Like my parents left too after she was gone. It became this pit where anything can leave you at anytime and you don't get to choose when. Then the police came back in the dead of night, they told my mom and dad they found her body. My mom made these inhuman cries on the floor, she's the only person I've known in my whole life to cry like that. It was terrifying but… I knew why she was crying even then."

Edward stayed completely quiet through her story, not even blinking before he said, "I'm sorry."

"I didn't really know the manner of how she died until I got older. I had to find out on my own cause there was no way in hell my parents would tell me. The guy who took her didn't just kill her. He raped her… brutally. Strangled her. She was just eight years old, which curdles my blood at even saying it. The worst is he was never caught. My sister's case became a cold case for twenty years and that loss of closure tore my parents apart. Made my dad an alcoholic who barely even exists for me, anymore. Made my mom a neurotic mess who can barely keep a houseplant alive. Made me a loner who barely keeps people in my life because I know they'll eventually leave me. So yeah… pretty idyllic childhood, right?"

Edward remained quiet for a while, trying to digest it. However, he was amazingly better at taking the information than most of those in Max's life. He finally said, "This happened in… 98?"

"Yeah. The Celeste Atkins' case. Look it up, it was all over the news in California, at least. Reasonably, people were pretty outraged by it. The worst is a man hunt with no man to hunt."

"Do you have nightmares?" He asked quietly.

Max batted her eyes and nodded, "All the time."

"Me too."

"Tell me about them."

Edward itched his nose and shyly scoffed it off. Max persisted, "There's a lot more to you. I haven't even scratched the surface. Whatever is said in this room stays in this room."

"I don't know where I would start."

"Start as early as you can remember."

"I… uh," he stuttered, "I was… brought to the orphanage when I was a baby. I had a mother. She died in Arkham when I was four, so I didn't get to know her. I didn't really talk at all when I was young. I could understand, I could respond in my head, but… I couldn't speak the words. I don't know why I stayed quiet for so long. I think it's because I didn't want to. That if I used my voice, it would be silenced, too."

"You were a quiet kid?"

"Very quiet. I'd sing in the choir, only time I'd use my voice, and when I'd scream. A lot of nights I'd wake up with this painful scream. I still remember how it felt when it ripped my throat. I was only screaming because… rats kept biting into my fingers. I slept in a room with thirty children, the cold got so bad, you'd look up and see all of this mist from the kids. The heat of our breath and little bodies just rising in a freezer. A lot of newborns didn't survive the cold. If you were born in the winter months, you're chances of survival were already pretty bad. Each room was thirty to forty kids. Usually a caretaker in each room, but sometimes we'd be left to our own devices. When kids are left to stew like that, they almost reach a type of mob mentality. If one kid was targeted, they'd all target them. I was that kid more often than not. I was uh… pretty easy target. If you were bullied, you were only seen as that by the other kids. Like the bully owned you, and if they asked you to do something, you'd do it. I remember beating a turtle with a rock because he told me to. I remember crying in a locker trying to hide from him. The only sanctuary I really had was books and puzzles. Puzzles were my only friends growing up. Sometimes they still are. It's… pathetic, right?"

Max's furrowed brows leaned when he looked up at her. She has a vacant glower, but managed a question, "Did you make that up?"

"I wish I did. There's an article online called Wayne's Guttersnipes, it's all about the inhumane conditions at Wayne Orphanage. I was raised there during the mid 80's to mid 90's, which is documented as the worst era in the orphanage. There was a rat infestation, they couldn't afford to use the furnace in the winter, and staff pay cuts made it difficult to keep and hold caregivers. Not to mention, the Gotham statistics for abandoned children was up 67 percent in the 80's. It was a perfect shitstorm in that building. Now all those kids are grown up, wreaking havoc over Gotham. That's the phenomenon of our repugnant crime rate, right about now."

"Wow…" Max sighed, unsure how to respond other than pure shock, "I thought the… Renewal project fixed that."

Edward scoffed a light chuckle, shaking his head, "No," he spoke a bit louder but still smiling, "No, they say that to make the human rights activists go away, but no. You see, Thomas Wayne died a week after he promised that initiative. There was no legacy afterwards to Renewal, it basically slipped in between the cracks. God knows what happened with it, or if the funds were ever used. It definitely wasn't used for the orphans, not a chance. I had a personal stake in Renewal. I even spoke to Thomas Wayne, himself, at the orphanage. He promised me this science and math school I could go to and advance in education. Get into a really good university one day. That never happened, though. I ended up working my way through high school and my early twenties at some pizza joint just trying to make enough money for state school. I've got a… modest degree in accounting. Now I'm working a white-collar gig that pays 50,000 a year when I should be making 100,000. Slowly watching everyone around surpass me as I remain the same."

Max held her tongue for a moment, then finally uttered, "I feel like you don't give yourself the credit you're due."

"What?"

"You went to college, worked your ass off to save up for it, too. You got a pretty sick gig; I mean 50,000 a year is a lot better than most. You watch everyone succeed without taking the time to appreciate your own success, you'll lose yourself in it. It's so easy to fall into comparisons. You're doing just fine."

"I say that to myself all the time. I know I'm doing okay; I could be on the street like so many people here. Why… why do I feel like I'm not? Like this pain I feel is my fault?"

"Trauma. I know the feeling. You could be the most successful, the most wealthy, the most loved. But… if your mind isn't healthy, none of it matters. It's hard to find joy in things. So you push everyone away because you don't know what to say. Next thing you know you're alone, and you have no idea how you got there."

Edward sighed and blinked, divulging it in his head. He finally replied, "I've been alone for a long time."

"Me too."

He looked up to her tenderly, taking time to appreciate her face again before whispering, "I'm not right now."

"Neither am I," smiled Max, "Right now I feel… completely content."

"I've never held anyones hand before…" Edward hushed, holding his hand open over his knee, "You wanna be my first?"

Max smiled and glided her hand into his, gently petting his palm before entwining their fingers. She studied the change of his face, he breathed out and made a closed smile, batting his eyes as if he was about to cry. Max felt it, too, just in seeing his reaction was enough. This was someone that deeply yearned for emotional intimacy, but never got it. Not even as a child. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to help him.

She stated quietly, "You have warm hands."

He folded his hand over hers and gently rubbed his thumb down her skin. She scooted closer to him, making him inhale sharply. She knew he wasn't used to physical contact, she didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"Too close?" Max asked.

He shook his head and smiled nervously, "No. No, you're okay. I like you close to me."

"Just me?" She whispered.

He whispered back, "Just you."

Max was leaning against the back of the couch, as was he. He was just a few inches from her own face. She struggled in finding words to say with his eyes looking into hers. She could smell his clothes. Musty and slight with laundry detergent. A hint of men's deodorant and shaving cream. He smelt like a library, almost. An office and the smell of freshly printed paper. The more she smelt it, the more it drew her in. All of these mixed together making it his own. It was engraving in her senses like a prominent memory. She knew she would wake up in the morning wanting to smell it again. She was battling the urge to grip his shirt collar. Undo the buttons down his collar bone. His lips were closed but so perfect, she was wondering then what they would feel like. How his breath would taste on her tongue. She was heavily succumbed in lust, and she couldn't tell if he was feeling the same.

"First kiss?" She whispered again, opening her mouth and sighing over his lips.

Edward didn't budge at the question. He weakly smiled and took his hand from hers. He brought it to her upper arm, as if he was getting ready.

He said, "Do you want to be mine?"

She nodded slightly but her face still drawn to his, "Yes."

Max brought a small fantasy to life and took his collar with light grip. The couch creaked and he held his breath as if he had to. He lifted his head from the back of the couch and Max did the same. Time stopped for just a second as she brought her lips to his. His nose and glasses chilled her cheek first, then his lips warmed her own. They were dry at first, showing how nervous he truly was. Max opened her mouth just slightly and pressed down his lower lip. He didn't move them back, but he was absorbing the moment like a sponge.

He would mimic her lips, finally releasing breath down her face. Max pushed up, pulling herself over him by the fabric of his collar. She guided him back on the couch and his head fell against the ridge. He was completely surrendered to her. When she opened her mouth and introduced her tongue, he opened his mouth to take it. He tasted clean, normal, a hint of toothpaste as if he cleaned his teeth before coming to her home. Each second into it was driving her more. She clasped his collar before gliding her hand up his neck then behind his ear, sweeping into his hair. She gently took some his hair into her hand and stroked, pulling her body against his torso. His upper thigh was now in between her legs. She sat on it and pressed up, letting her lust take her. It was so quiet in her apartment, amplifying their breath. Max would just barely moan over the movement of their clothes rustling against each other, and the tender slight smack of their lips. She took it a bit further and strode her hands down his collar bone and upper chest, unbuttoning his shirt. He made a sound, she first thought it was a moan, then he whispered between her lips.

"Wait."

She took her lips away and had a startled look, horrified she did something wrong.

"I… I don't know if I'm ready. I've had a lot of firsts tonight. I'm just…"

Max tried to contain her disappointment, "What's wrong?"

"I don't… I don't want you thinking I don't want to. God, believe me. I really really want to. It's just…"

"If you want to, then why stop?"

"I don't want you forgetting about me if we do. I don't… see you as a one time thing. Or whatever it's called, one night stands. I don't see that with you. I want to keep seeing you. This matters to me. You matter to me."

She brought her hand to his cheek and grazed her nose against his, they both shared heavy breath. Max's black hair was a canopy over Edward, his eyes barely open he could still see her perfectly with her smell and her voice. The taste of her lips still lingering.

"You matter to me. I'm not calling it, even in the morning when we're done. I won't be calling it anytime soon. You have me. You can fuck me, and you'll still have me."

"I don't want to go too fast."

"It's not fast. It's just right. Doesn't it feel right?"

"It feels amazing," his voice fleeted into a sigh as their lips were just centimetres from each other.

"Then take me," she whispered, pulling up on his collar again, "Take all of me."

Edward brought his hands up her back and sighed against her lips again.

She begged, "Please."

"Okay." He whispered back.

"Yeah?"

"Okay. Teach me, then."

"You want me to teach you?"

"I want to learn, so teach me. What do I do?"

"Just lay back…" Max kissed down his neck. She could feel his shaking against her lips. She whispered again, "Calm down. It's okay."

"I'm sorry… I'm really nervous…"

"Don't be," she looked him in the eyes again and smiled against his lips, making him crease one, too. "Let me show you what it feels like."