Page 72 of About Last Night

“You aren’t very helpful.”

“Danzig, payback is going to be hell for this one.”

I get up from the bed and make it to the door when Max sits up and says, “Wait.”

I leap onto the bed and tackle her. “You want to snuggle. I knew it.”

“No, I don’t,” she protests, but she lets me pull her down onto the bed and snuggle up to her side.

“OK, keep protesting,” I say. “Your secret is safe with me,” I whisper.

Max sighs, but I feel her relax. It must be exhausting to be deadpan and cynical all the time.

“Audrey is trying to set boundaries, but not doing a great job of it,” Max says. “You need her to define taking it slow. For her. Then you need to tell her what taking it slow is for you. Just because she’s getting out of a bad relationship doesn’t mean you have to just agree to everything she wants. She wants to take it slow. But you don’t want to keep it a secret. Seems like a fair trade. Just don’t go agreeing to everything she wants because you’re afraid you’re going to lose her.”

“You give good advice,” I say.

“Too bad you rarely take it.”

“Not true.”

“Speaking of advice, how’s the apartment search going?”

“I’m going to, I promise. I’ve been really busy and I’m about to take a couple of trips and be gone for weeks and it seems silly to get a place that will immediately stand empty.”

Max sighs. “Just say you hate apartment hunting.”

“I hate apartment hunting.”

“Good thing I don’t.”

“You’ve found me an apartment?”

“No, I’ve found me an apartment. You can sub-let mine starting March 1.”

“I don’t want to kick you out of your place.”

“You aren’t. I’m ready for something bigger. Newer. That has an elevator.”

“Are you sure?”

“If it means I don’t have to see your naked ass walking through the house all the time, then yes.”

“You love my naked ass and you know it.”

“In your dreams.” Max turns over. “Now, go away so I can get some sleep.”

I hug her from behind. “I love you, Maxine.”

“Call me that again and I swear to God no one will ever find your body.”

“You need to stop listening to true crime podcasts,” I say, and jump out of the bed, feeling lighter than I have in weeks.

“I need them to dull all of the emotional pain and baggage I have from my best friend,” she says, her voice muffled by the pillow.

I pause at the door. “I think you’re being sarcastic right now, but I can’t tell because of the pillow. We’ll revisit this one day. Promise. See? Look at me. Wanting to communicate all over the place. Who knew communication was the key?”

“Literally everyone,” Max says.

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