Page 23 of Invisible String
Max digs into a black container and pulls out a shirt and a pair of boxers.
“Put these on. I don’t have fucking curves, but I’m sure you’ll have room in them,” he muses.
Who knew Max had a sense of humor?
“Shut it.” I grab them out of his hand.
“You can change in here if you’d like, or you can take a warm shower. I’ll be in the living room.”
I nod, watching him walk toward the doorway. Just before he shuts the door, he turns. “And sunshine, I don’t know who’s those clothes belong to.” He smirks, shutting the door.
My eyes widen, and my mouth gapes.
Sunshine.
Twenty minutes later, I made my way back to the living room. I showered, then slipped his boxers and shirt on. They fit loosely but smell of him. Max leans back on the sofa, his legs spread. He’s flipping through YouTube. I’m unsure whether I should sit next to him. Instead, I sit on another sofa opposite him.
“What are you watching?”
He looks up from the TV. “Just scrolling. I like to watch old boxing matches.”
“Cool,” I say nervously, tucking my legs under my bottom. “Have you boxed? Like with others professionally?”
“I have, but not professionally. I’m an amateur boxer.” He shrugs. “Maybe someday I can go pro.”
Something inside tells me he will. It means a lot to me he confessed his dream. “I’m sure you will.”
For the next fifteen minutes, we watch boxing matches. I love how he studies the fights. He scrunches his nose in concentration. He hands me the remote and asks me to pick something. I pick a classic.Rocky. He loves to box. Might as well watch something he loves. We go through the first half of the movie in silence, stealing glances at one another. When my gaze is on the TV, I can feel his stare on me. I wonder if he’s thinking of the kiss we almost had. I know I am. I want to feel his lips on mine.
“I would offer you snacks, but I don’t have any,” he finally says after our silence.
“No worries, I’m good. Maybe I should go. It’s getting late.” It’s past midnight, and I’m sure he wants to be alone.
He stands to peer out the window-opening the plastic blinds. “The cock sucker is still outside.”
I stand to see who he’s talking about. Peter is sitting on a lounge chair. He keeps glancing at Max’s place. My guess is he’s waiting for me.
“If you want to go back, I can walk you and tell him to fuck off if he bothers you. Or you can sleep in one of the beds in the upstairs rooms,” Max says, still peeking out the window.
I wonder if he wants me to stay. He wouldn’t ask if he didn’t.
“It’s probably best to stay. I’m sure Lana is getting busy with Dan, and I don’t want to hear it.” I rub my thighs. “Umm, that’s if it’s okay. I don’t want to disturb you.”
Max takes a step back from the window.
“It’s not a big deal.” He shrugs. “I’m just going to watch TV.”
It’s such a lame excuse because I could go back to the house. It’s quite spacious. It’s not like I can’t close the bedroom doorand ignore Peter. Max sits back on the stiff leather sofa. His jaw tightens, and his fist goes to his mouth. I sit back, but this time closer to him on the long sofa he’s sitting on. The movie has about ten minutes left.
“Max?”
He cocks his head to the side.
“Do you remember the book we read as kids under the tree?”
His brows deepen in concentration. “The one with birds in it? The taboo one?”
I laugh. “It didn’t have birds in the story, per se, but the book is calledThorn Birds.”
