“’Night, then.” Max sounded confused, upset even, as he walked off.
I told myself it was for the best, but the ache in my chest kept me awake until night faded from the sky.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
For the next week, I eluded Max without half trying.
His work schedule meant that as long as I knew when he had class, I could time my returns and departures. It worked until the following Saturday. Max worked during the day and if he ran true to form, he’d be at a party or out with some girl until late, so I figured it was safe to stay home and watch TV. My luck ran out at 6:45 p.m. when he unlocked the front door and came in. The odor of burnt oil wafted from him, along with the pungent smell of sweat. He looked tired, eyes shadowed, and he hadn’t shaven in a few days. I’d always liked seeing him in work clothes, matching navy pants and shirt with a stitched-on name patch. If I was his girlfriend, I’d totally steal one of those shirts. It would be dead cute with the right tank top or cami underneath.
“Hey, stranger.” The only way to play this was to bluff it out. “Where’ve you been hiding all week? Are you avoiding me?”
He swiped a hand across his face, leaving a dirty streak; his fingers and nails were caked with grease and grime. “I was gonna ask you that.”
“Huh. It probably just seems like we don’t see as much of each other after being joined at the hip on the road trip.” I shifted, patting the couch. “Take a shower and I’ll throw something together for dinner. Unless you have plans?”
There, that should do it.
“No, I don’t feel like going out.”
“Awesome, we’ll have a quiet night.”
I slid off the sofa and followed him as far as the kitchen, where I rummaged in the fridge and cupboards. My heart pounded like crazy as he lingered, and when he went into the bathroom, I sighed, going limp against the countertop in relief. Then I rallied enough to set out some penne pasta. It wouldn’t be fancy, but it wouldn’t take forever, either. While the water boiled, I chopped up some lettuce, which was all we had for a salad, and browned the ground beef.
Need to get Angus to take me shopping.
Max took the longest shower ever so the pasta was done and I was finishing the sauce when he came back. He sniffed, seeming a little more cheerful. “Damn. I didn’t realize I was so hungry until right now. I didn’t get lunch.”
“Busy?”
“Yeah. We had some unexpected body work and the guy threw a shit fit when Gus told him it would be at least four days on the repair, and no, we don’t have loaner cars.”
“Sounds like a crappy day.”
He leaned against me as I served the food. “It’s better now.”
The words created a twinge in my heart, but mostly I was glad to make his life better, especially when I’d all but asked him to stay here and keep busting his ass. “Good. Should we eat on the couch or at the table?”
“Couch. I could use some mindless entertainment.”
“Co-op after we eat?”
“Sounds great.”
After dinner, he stacked the plates in the sink while I put away the leftovers. Angus and Kia would probably have some when they got in later. Max put in his favorite shooter and handed me the game controller. There was something soothing about mindless violence, which a psychiatrist would probably find worrisome. We played for a couple of hours, long enough to soothe any lingering fears he might have about whether we were good.
I stood up, stretching. “That’s it for me. The screen’s starting to get blurry.”
Max sighed with mock-disappointment. “You just aren’t a hard-core gamer.”
“Nope. I can live with the shame.”
“Want to watch a movie instead?”
Since I’d planned to do that in my room, it was hard to refuse. “Like what?”
“You pick.”
“Then how about Gravity?”
“I hope you have chocolate stashed somewhere. It’ll probably be depressing.” But he turned on Angus’s old laptop, which we used to watch movies online, and checked the connection to the TV.
“That’s so sexist that I don’t even know where to start.”
He glanced at me, eyes wide. “But...the chocolate’s for me.”
“Fine, you win this round.” I settled back, pulling an afghan that Nadia’s mom had made—and she’d let us keep when she moved out—over my knees. Indian summer was still kicking during the day, but the door to the balcony was open to let in the breeze, and it was a little chilly.
Max rented the movie on my account and started it up. He switched off the living room lights, probably to increase the cinematic quality of the experience. Once the film began, I was riveted, not thinking about Max. I didn’t notice him until he leaned on me, head on my arm. In the old days I’d have put an arm around him and let him use me as a pillow. I didn’t this time, though I couldn’t say why. Eventually he took the hint and sat up. I pretended to be oblivious, absorbed in Sandra Bullock’s life-or-death struggle. Once the movie came to its gripping conclusion, I turned on the lights.
And said the last thing in the world I wanted to. “So I’ve been thinking about your offer.”
“Huh?” Max blinked against the sudden shift in illumination, his pupils contracting against the light.
“To set me up. You know me better than anyone, so you should be good at it.”
“Okay. Would you rather date a guy or a girl?”
“I’m open.”
“Any deal breakers?”
I considered for a minute, acting like this didn’t have disaster written all over it. “Consistently poor hygiene. Vicious streak. Extremely conservative outlook.”
“Is that it? You don’t want to describe your type or anything?”
“People always say this, but I swear it’s true—I don’t really have one. Physical traits are ephemeral anyway, while the core of the person won’t change over the years.”
“Some people do,” he pointed out. “For better or worse.”
“What is this, a proposal?”
“Funny.”
“I just mean you can’t fall in love with someone’s butt.”
He grinned. “Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure I have.”
“That’s lust, Max.”
“And you’re opposed to it?”
How did I get into this conversation again? But it would seem suspicious if I suddenly waved my hands and retreated. We used to debate shit like this all the time. But that was before, before Providence, before I’d thought about getting naked with Max, wondered what it would be like to take it further than kissing.