Page 72 of Lovers Like Us
He’s stopped to speak to them, and he’s hesitating. Because he would genuinely placegiving a fan a pictureabove his safety. Knowing it’d make their day, their month, year, or eternalexistence.
Lucky for him, I don’t give ashit.
I only care about hislife.
“Maximoff,” I say through my teeth. “Move. Or I’ll drag you—” There wego.
He faces forward, our strides lengthy and hurried. “I could’ve taken onepicture.”
“No, you couldn’t.” I fixate on two guys ahead of us. They beam their phone lights on Maximoff. He shields the brightness with hishand.
“Hey, that’sMaximoff!”
I step in front of him while we walk. “You can see him later,” I tell the guys casually, but their lights have already created a giant spotlight onMaximoff.
“Maximoff!!” too many people scream and they’re running towardshim.
We’re still far from Ballroom E. “Three-o’clock, there’s a bathroom,” I say to Maximoff and lead him by the shoulder—someone grips hisshirt.
I shove the person back, and the fabricrips.
And that’s when the sheer amount of people dawn on me. We may as well be at a concert venue, and he may as well be a singer stuck in the pit. Almost a hundred bodies swarmus.
All wanting close. All wanting to say they “touched” Maximoff Hale. All happening at onetime.
In thedark.
I physically pry hands off his shirt, his biceps, and he pushes forward. When I tear off one more set of hands, he breaks through and sprints to thebathroom.
I’m right behindhim.
I shut and lock the door. They bang and shout. No lights,still.
“Maximoff.” I redirect my phone light on his body for a split-second. He’s clutching the sink edge. Slightly hunched forward, abnormal forhim.
I can’t focus on him yet. It’s killing me notto.
I click my mic and swing the light to the entire bathroom. I kick open stall doors. Empty, empty. “Farrow to Omega, we’re not making it to Ballroom E.” Empty, empty, empty, empty. This is a girl’s bathroom, about twelvestalls.
Empty,empty.
Outside, fans start chanting, “Maximoff! Maximoff! Maximoff Hale! Maximoff! Maximoff! MaximoffHale!”
Empty, empty, empty. I click my mic. “We’re in a secured bathroom.” I run to Maximoff in two strides, and I shine my light on him. “What’swrong?”
His eyes are tightened close, jaw clenched. And he swallowshard.
He’s inpain.
My stomach backflips. “Maximoff—”
“Where’s Jane, Sulli, Beckett—are they okay?” He opens his eyes, only severe worry inthem.
I click my mic. “Farrow to Omega, where’s everyone?” I listen to their replies and examine his build, easily noticing the bone popped out of his shouldersocket.
“Farrow,” he prods for theanswer.
“Sulli and Beckett are in Ballroom E, safe. Crowds cut off Jane, but Thatcher and Quinn took her outside. She’s safe in a cab.” I gesture him to turn towards me. “Let me see yourshoulder.”
