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Dat ass.
Chapter Twenty
Helena
I was told to make myself at home, so that’s exactly what I do. Hell, if it were Max being told to do it, he’d do it. I’m just returning the favor. When I step into the kitchen, I look through cupboards until I find the glasses, take one out, and then open the fridge. I hear footsteps come into the kitchen and I ask, “Don’t you have anything to drink in this place?”
I look up from the fridge door to find Max standing there in black sweats, a navy skintight tank, and white sneakers. I look down at myself then back up at him. I ask through a laugh, “Did you color coordinate yourself to look like me?”
He shrugs, a smile playing at his lips. “I thought we could play ‘who wore it better?’”
Not thinking at that moment, I respond immediately, “You. Definitely you.” Closing my eyes, I slap a hand across my mouth and giggle nervously. “Oh shit. That was stupid.”
Max comes up behind me, leaning over me to view that sad state of his fridge. His body molds to mine, his front pressing into my back. As my minds squeals then faints dead away, he murmurs as he pulls away, “This is worse than I thought. Come on. Let’s go to the grocery store.”
I shake my head. “No, I just came to talk. Nat’s waiting at Tina’s for me.”
His eyes narrow as he shrugs. “So? Tell her I’ll take you home.”
I si
gh through my response, “That’s not an option.”
He pokes me in the rib. “Why?”
I have no idea. My brain has farted so hard it might’ve pooped a little. “I…uh—she’s waiting for me, is why. She’s across the street, waiting for me. She’s waiting so I-um…can’t do that right now.” I think I should get an award for getting through that sounding only half-special.
His eyes on me, he lifts his cell to his ear and waits. “Yo.” He smirks at something the person on the other end has said. “No, I haven’t killed her. Yet.” He rolls his eyes. “Or seduced her.” He looks at me and winks. “Yet.” He pauses to listen, then speaks into the receiver, “We’re going grocery shopping. I’ll bring her home later. You need anything?”
The little shit. My face heats and I hiss, “Will you stop doing that?”
Placing a hand over the cell, he asks a confused, “Doing what?”
My mouth gapes. I near-shriek, “Making me do what I don’t want to!”
He doesn’t answer me, just shakes his head as he speaks into the phone. “Okay, babe. No problem. And you tell that husband of yours he better watch his back. The second he fucks up, I’m all over you like stink on shit.”
My eyes narrow.
Of course he flirts with my sister. Of course he does. He doesn’t flirt with me, but he flirts with her.
He takes in my murderous glare then grins, “Okay, I have to go before your sister cuts my balls off. Love you.”
He places his cell in his pocket and smiles. “See? No problem.” Before I can get a word in, he calls out, “Yo, baby girl. Let’s go.”
She calls back, “Where are we going?”
“Grocery shopping.”
It takes a moment before Ceecee comes out of her room and into the kitchen. She mutters, “Thank God, I’m starving.” She looks up at me and asks hesitantly, “Are you coming?”
I don’t get to answer. I don’t get to answer, because Max throws his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “Of course she’s coming. We need to feed her too.”
And for the first time since I’ve been in New York, Ceecee smiles. “Cool.” Sure, she smiles down at her hands, but it’s still something.
I may not have wanted to be here before, but at that small response, I want to be here now. I smile down at her. “Let’s see if we can get some chunky monkey while we’re down there too.”
Ceecee looks up at me in awe, eyes wide. “I love chunky monkey.”
