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“Max is coming home with me. I’m not leaving him.”
“You don’t get to make that choice. He does. And he’s not going to choose you. He’s not going to choose Rose. He’s going to choose me.”
My eyes narrow, hate swirling inside me. “I see. What is your name anyway?”
“Michelle.”
“Oh yeah? Well, fuck you, Michelle.”
And then I throw my drink in her face.
Steam rises from her skin, cracks surfacing showing ugly oozing tar underneath. She hisses, snapping at me with shark teeth.
I stand my ground, knowing she’s probably not going to try and eat me in this crowded bar.
Probably.
I lower my voice. “The next time I see you, I’m going to kill you,” I tell her. “And if you do anything to him, then I’ll really make it hurt.”
Then I push away and start walking to the front doors, wanting to get away from her, wanting fresh air, just as Max comes striding out of the office.
He doesn’t look happy.
In fact, he’s nothing but inner turmoil come to life. I can tell that from here.
I turn to look behind me at the demon lady, Michelle, but she’s gone.
Max doesn’t even stop to look at me, I don’t even know if he sees me. He keeps walking until he’s outside.
And then I’m running out of the bar after him, just in time to see him round the corner, his legs long and covering so much ground.
“Max!” I cry out, grabbing his shirt and pulling him back until he stops.
He stares down at me, and I’ve never seen him look so lost. His eyes are nearly black, all of him seems to recede into the night.
“What happened?” I ask him, immediately grabbing his hand, cupping it between mine, hoping my energy will bring some life back into him. “Talk to me.”
“Nothing happened,” he says simply. “I just want to go to sleep.”
He makes a move to go, but I hold on tight. “Don’t try and leave me behind, Max. Not this time. I’m not going anywhere. Okay?”
He chews on his lip for a moment before he nods. “Okay.”
He repositions his hand so he’s holding mine and we walk back to the hotel.
“Are you going to tell me what happened in there?” I ask.
“Nothing happened,” he says.
“Something did happen. You’re…”
“I’m what?” he asks, eyes hard.
“You just…this was the point of the whole trip. Coming to see Rose, coming to get your stuff. Of course, now I find out that you never had any stuff at her place. That you broke up long before.”
“I told you that.”
“No, you made it seem like you were still together. Complicated but together.”
“You filled in those blanks.”
“You let me fill them in! So why did you lie to me?”
He stops walking and I nearly collide into him. “I didn’t lie to you, Ada.”
“Are you sure? Because nothing went down in there like I thought it would. Why did you want to come here, Max? What’s your plan?”
“I just want to go to sleep,” he says to me. “Please. I’m tired.”
I close my eyes and sigh, feeling exhausted too. “Okay. Yeah. Fine.”
He’s not the only one who had a fucking batshit day.
We start walking again, taking the quieter streets. I don’t ask any more questions because I know I’ll either get silence or one-word answers. It’s obvious he’s trying to process a lot and I guess if I want more from him, I’m going to have to wait. Wish I could have gotten Rose’s number so I could talk to her about him. Then again, I don’t think Max would appreciate that very much.
When we finally get to the room, I’m reminded about the whole ‘only one bed’ problem. To think, earlier today I thought that he wouldn’t be coming back with me, that he’d go spend the night at Rose’s. How wrong was I?
Can’t say I’m exactly upset about it either. I just wish Max would let me in. I feel like now more than ever I’m being pushed back into the darkness while he’s drowning in his.
Max heads straight into the washroom, which gives me a chance to change out of my ruined shirt and into my tank top and booty shorts. I figured I’d buy new pajamas at some point, but there hasn’t been time. Maybe tomorrow.
You could sleep naked, I think. But with the way Max is acting, I don’t think that he would like that very much.
I pull back the covers, staking claim over my side of the bed, then wait for him to come out of the washroom. I need to take off my make-up and all that, but I know when I go to do that he’s going to fall right asleep.
Finally, he comes out, walking to the bed, discarding his boots, undoing his jeans, taking off his shirt so fast that I flinch, thinking he’s popped all the buttons, and then he’s just in black boxer briefs and that’s it and I know I shouldn’t stare but my god. How can you not? He’s a fucking work of art.
