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ME: I’m an author. Anything you say or do has the potential to end up in my novel. With all identifying factors removed, of course.
Max: But of course.
ME: It’s not going to go in my book, Max.
Max: It is.
ME: No, it’s not. Anything that happens between us will stay between us. What happened tonight wasn’t part of the earlier proposal, was it?
Max: I suppose not. That idea went out of the window with dinner, didn’t it?
ME: Pretty much. Besides, if we are going to spend time together, I’d rather it not be because of any kind of feeling of obligation.
Max: I don’t think us spending any time together is a good idea at all, but I can’t seem to stay away from you.
Stupid smile.
Stupid skippy heart.
I was in so much trouble.
So, so much trouble.
ME: It’s fine. I know how this ends. It’s not as if us sleeping together is going to end in some great, vibrant love story for the ages. Sex is sex.
Max: Mm. I’m going to note right now that I’m not responsible if you fall in love with me.
ME: Puh-lease! You’re far more likely to fall in love with me.
Max: Highly unlikely.
ME: When you fall in love with me and you realise too late because I’m back in London, it’s all on you, mister.
Max: You are very good at tooting your own horn.
ME: Like I said: someone has to.
Max: Again, you’re right. Rest assured there will be no falling on my behalf.
ME: Or mine.
ME: Not counting yesterday when I fell through the door.
Max: I’m glad you mentioned that.
ME: No falling in love. There. Clarification made.
Max: Always smart to draw the line. By the way, there’s karaoke at the pub tomorrow. I believe I owe you.
I wrinkled my face up. I couldn’t sing. Nobody needed me at karaoke.
ME: I don’t know. I can’t sing. At all. It’s awful.
Max: I promised to show you how wild it can be. Everyone will be there. Fred is coming, so bring your brother. Pen will be working until ten.
ME: Mmm… Can I think about it?
Max: No. Trust me when I say you have to see this.
