Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Zoe
MaxMc: Morning.
Zoe: Hey, I didn’t know if you’d be talking to me again after I handed your ass to you in chess.
MaxMc: I let you win—you have some crazy competitive streak, lady.
Zoe: It’s just normal.
MaxMc: You keep telling yourself that. I just can’t understand why you stayed at your sister’s yesterday. We could’ ve had a sleepover.
Zoe: We don’t do sleepovers—it’s a rule, remember?
MaxMc: I added it, which means I can take it away too.
Zoe: That’s not how this works.
MaxMc: I’m not here to argue rules. What are you doing today?
Zoe: Hopefully something fun? What do you have in store, big guy?
MaxMc: I have something to show you. Where are you?
Zoe: Is it something thick, long, and yummy?
MaxMc: Focus, beautiful. We can talk about my dick later. Can you tell me where you are?
Zoe: Taking Roger out for a walk.
MaxMc: You’re at your parents’ already?
Zoe: Yeah, left the Montgomerys’ place at six in the morning. I didn’t want to stay with them all day because, according to my sister, I don’t have a life.
MaxMc: Well, it seems like you don’t since you’re always at their place.
Zoe: Because they dragged me there thinking I’m lonely. It’s all your fault, you know?
MaxMc: How?
Zoe: It’s a cycle. You say we’re doing something. I leave work earlyish, go to my place earlier to change, and then you cancel on me. Mom messages Lily because she thinks I’m pathetic, and my amazing little sister ends up dragging me to her place.
MaxMc: Sorry, but I think I have the remedy for all that. I’ll pick you up in twenty.
Zoe: Remedy, you say?
MaxMc: Be ready.
“Well, this is unexpected,” I say, as I take in the sight before us. Max and I stand outside an old brownstone, its rich, deep red bricks complemented by winding ivy that gives the building a timeless, almost magical feel.
“You like it?” Max asks, his grin as wide as a kid on Christmas morning. “Like it so much that you would even live here?”
I nod, drinking in the character of the place—something Max’s sleek, modern high-rise completely lacks. It’s older than my brownstone, but still adorable and definitely something I’d consider if I could afford it. “Why are we here?”
Max’s eyes sparkle with excitement. “I found a studio available for sublease here. Thought you might like to see it.”
My heart skips a beat. As much as I love my parents, I’m ready to leave the nest—again. But is this for me, or for him? “A sublease, huh?” I ask, trying to keep my voice casual while wondering if I can snatch it away from him.
“Why don’t we take a look, and you can tell me what you think about it?” he suggests, gesturing toward the entrance.
I quirk an eyebrow at him. “So you’re making a change from soulless and cold to cozy? That shows growth, McCallister. What are they asking for?” I ask, knowing Beacon Hill rent is crazier than my Aunt Mildred after three martinis and two shots of tequila.
“Two-thousand, one-month deposit,” he says as we enter the brownstone .
My breath catches. That’s . . . surprisingly affordable. I’ll fight him for it if I have to.
The hallway is narrow but charming, with intricate molding and a slightly creaky wooden floor. We climb the stairs, our footsteps echoing in the stairwell. On the third floor, Max mentions it has access to the rooftop, too.
When we get inside the studio, I’m pleasantly surprised. It’s cozy but not cramped—one open area big enough for a full-size bed, a couch, and a table. The bathroom is surprisingly spacious, there’s a sizable closet (hello, shoe collection), and a compact but functional kitchen.
“This place has so much potential,” I say, my mind racing with decorating ideas.
“Well?” Max asks, watching me expectantly, his hands shoved in his pockets.
I spin around, taking it all in. “It’s . . . perfect,” I breathe. Then reality hits. “But Max, why are you showing me this? Are you planning on leasing it or . . .” I trail off, hoping against hope that he found it for me.
He shrugs, trying to look casual but not quite pulling it off. “I just thought . . . maybe you’d like a change of scenery. Somewhere your family won’t barge in all the time, and your sister won’t be tracking your every move. Seems like they’re meddling a lot.”
“It’s out of love,” I correct him automatically, though I can’t help but smile. My heart swells at his thoughtfulness, even as a tiny voice in my head wonders what this means for us.
There’s no us, Zoe, I chide myself. It’s so hard sometimes to remind myself that we’re not dating. He’s a friend, we share some benefits and that’s all. Maybe I have to tell him that all those nice things he does for me are confusing the fuck out of me. Next thing I know, I’ll be claiming to be in love with him and will get my heart broken.
“Sure, meddling is love.” He rolls his eyes.
“It is,” I assure him.
“The point is that if you move here, you’ll have a little peace and quiet. Also, if I finish working at midnight, I can just drop by and say hello,” he says with a wink, stepping closer. His playful grin sends a thrill through me.
Before I can respond, Max closes the distance between us, his hand gently cupping my cheek. His touch is electric, and my breath hitches. He leans in slowly, his eyes locked on mine, and the anticipation makes my heart race.
When his lips finally meet mine, the kiss is intense, full of unspoken desire. His other hand finds its way to my lower back, pulling me closer as he deepens the kiss. The world around us fades away, leaving only the sensation of his mouth moving against mine. His kiss is demanding and consuming, and I melt into him, my knees going weaker than his promise to stop breaking rules.
Max’s fingers tangle in my hair, and I feel a surge of heat as the kiss grows more fervent. It’s as if he’s pouring all his emotions into this one moment, and I’m helpless to do anything but respond in kind. When he finally pulls away, we’re both breathing heavily, and I can see the raw intensity in his eyes .
“See?” he murmurs, his forehead resting against mine. “It’s a win-win.”
Still dazed by the kiss, I try to compose myself and narrow my gaze. “Is this your way of getting me closer to your place?”
He gasps in mock offense. “I would never. But . . . if it happens to be conveniently located, who am I to complain?”
I can’t help but laugh. “You’re incorrigible, McCallister.”
“That’s why you like me.” He winks, looking far too pleased with himself.
As I look around the charming studio again, I can’t help but wonder: is this just another fun adventure with Max, or is it something more? And why does the thought of “something more” not terrify me as much as it should?
We’re just friends who happen to have fun together and are teaching each other a thing or two about life. Right?
“So, what are you thinking?” He interrupts my thoughts, his voice softer than usual. “I can have the contract ready for you by this afternoon. Do you want it?”
“Yes. I love it,” I admit, trying not to sound too eager.
Max watches me, a smile playing on his lips. “I’m glad you love it. You deserve a place that feels like home.”
I bite my lip, fighting the urge to kiss him again. “And where exactly would you fit into this new home of mine, Mr. McCallister? ”
His eyes twinkle mischievously. “Oh, I’m sure we could find a spot for me. Maybe right here?” He pulls me close again, and as our lips meet, I can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, home isn’t always a place. Sometimes, it’s a person. I just have to remind myself that this person is temporary, just like the studio.