9. MAX
MAX
By the time we’d showered and watched two more episodes of Natural Detective curled up together on the couch, it was past five and we were both hungry again, so we ordered pizza.
We started the next episode while we waited, but neither of us was paying much attention by the time the buzzer rang.
It startled us, and Lucas bolted into a sitting position from where he’d been slumped next to me on the couch, nearly bashing his forehead on my chin. “Shit!”
I chuckled and patted his thigh. “‘Shit’ is not the right response to pizza, Luc. Try ‘oh god, yes!’”
He made a face at me and got up to answer the door. He was back a minute later with the pizza in one hand and a six-pack in the other. He set the pizza down on the coffee table and disappeared into the kitchen. “Drink?” he called back to me.
“You got us beer?” I pushed myself up into a more upright sitting position, which was still annoying without being able to use my lower legs.
He reappeared a second later holding two open bottles in one hand and a pile of napkins in the other. “Of course. Your wish is my command.”
I grinned. “If only that were true. I can think of a whole lot of wishes I’d make.”
“Oh yeah?” He dropped onto the couch next to me. “Like what?”
I hadn’t expected him to actually want me to answer that question.
To buy time, I pulled a slice of pizza out of the box and took a bite.
Should I give him an honest answer or a jokey one?
Because the honest answer would be that I wanted to be able to support myself, I wanted to belong, and I wanted him.
No, that was too much; we’d only just hooked up, and only the one time.
I decided to go for jokey. “Blowjobs twice a day, every day,” I said reflectively.
“A million dollars. Chris Hemsworth on speed dial for booty calls.”
He took out his own piece of pizza and studied my face while he ate some. For a second, I thought he was going to call me on the superficiality of my supposed wishes, but eventually he just said, “I think you’d get bored of blowjobs if they came like clockwork.”
“Never,” I insisted. “Especially if they came from you. I mean, damn, Lucas.” I leered at him.
He laughed and gave me a push in the side. “Glad to hear I was up to your standards.”
I ruffled his hair with the hand that wasn’t covered in pizza grease. “Always.” I didn’t think the man was capable of letting me down if he tried.
The conversation subsided then as we both focused on eating and drinking, but it was a friendly silence. A comfortable one. It felt like tension that had been building between us since we met had been released. Damn, we should have had sex sooner.
Finally, Lucas stuffed the last piece of crust of the last piece of pizza in his mouth and flopped back against the couch with a groan. “I’m not moving for a week after all that,” he mumbled, rubbing his face.
I smirked. “Bet I can make you move.” I held out a hand threateningly.
“I swear to god, Max, if you try to tickle me right now I will murder you in your bed tonight.”
“Touchy, touchy.” I dropped my hand. “You never let me have any fun.”
He gave me a pointed look. “I’ll remember you said that next time you try to put your hand down my pants.”
My ears perked up. Did that mean he was going to let me put my hand down his pants again in the future?
That this wasn’t a one-time thing? Neither of us had said anything about feelings, and I didn’t know enough about his life to know if he was a hit-it-and-quit-it type or a sex-means-feelings type.
I’d have guessed the latter, but it wasn’t really the sort of thing you wanted to take a guess on.
But really, this was all way too serious a thing to be thinking about after one hookup, right?
“So what I’m hearing,” I joked, pulling myself out of my ponderings and leaning into him, “is that I should put my hand down your pants to see what you say.”
He crossed his legs playfully and leaned away from me. “Down, boy. Finish your pizza.”
Grumbling under my breath, I did as ordered, shoving the rest of my slice into my mouth until my cheeks bulged like a chipmunk’s. “Mm done,” I said through a mouthful of dough. “Whaff now?”
He looked at his watch. Mirroring him, I looked at mine: 6:45.
Way too early for bed, even if I was already wondering if I should try inviting him to sleep with me.
Or maybe he’d invite me to sleep with him?
Maybe he didn’t have the slightest interest in sharing a bed.
Maybe I was just stress relief; it wouldn’t be the first time someone thought that the guy who worked as a stripper was useful like that.
Or maybe I was once again getting ahead of myself and should quit it with the overthinking before I blew a gasket in my brain.
“Wanna play some Trivial Pursuit?” he suggested.
It was as good a way to get my mind off things as anything. “Hell yeah,” I said. “I owe you an ass-kicking.”
Rolling his eyes, Lucas stood to retrieve the box off the shelf it was stored on.
***
Three hours later, I moved my little plastic pie into the center of the board for the fourth time.
I’d been circling around it for almost an hour, trying and failing to correctly answer game-deciding question after game-deciding question.
Surely this time I’d get my question right, right?
Fourth time’s a charm? “History,” I decided.
Lucas smirked and pulled a card out of the box. “‘What were the names of the two wives who outlived Henry VIII?’” he read. “Huh, I thought he killed them all.”
Fuck yeah! I had a chance at this one! I flashed back to watching the road tour of Six, a musical about Henry VIII’s six wives, at my local arts center in New Hampshire.
Divorced, beheaded, died; divorced, beheaded, survived, I sang in my head.
So that answered for one of the wives, Catherine Parr.
Who was the second? Not either of the beheaded ones, obviously; probably not Katherine of Aragon, since she’d been a lot older than him.
Jane Seymour died. Anne Boleyn got her head chopped off.
Catherine Howard had too. That left Anne of Cleaves.
I grinned. “Anne of Cleaves and Catherine Parr.”
“What the fuck?” Lucas chucked the card down and stared at me. “How did you know that?”
I grinned at him shamelessly. “Musical theater, my friend.”
“Huh? What does that have to do with ancient English history?”
“Remind me to find you a recording of Six. But in the meantime, I do believe that means I am victorious over your sorry ass.”
He gave me a scowl without any real heat behind it. “Asshole.”
“You know it,” I agreed easily, and stretched out my cramping muscles.
Sitting hunched over a game board for three hours was hard on the shoulders.
I shook out my arms, then straightened my legs and locked my knees for a long stretch accompanied by a satisfied groan.
The one just above my stump popped loudly.
Lucas jumped at the sound. “Damn, dude,” he said, glancing at it. “You ok over there?”
I nodded and then yawned hugely before I could say anything else. “How the hell am I tired when all I do is sit around on my ass?”
“Because all you do is sit around on your ass,” he answered.
“You gotta expend energy to get energy. You should really try taking walks. I know,” he said, holding up a hand to stop my protest, “people stare. But you’re going to start going to that support group we’re gonna find you, right?
And then that’s going to help you feel better about going out. ”
I yawned again, this time deliberately. “It’s way too late to get into all that again, Luc. Can we leave the argument for tomorrow?”
“I’m not trying to start an argument -” he began.
Ignoring his protest, I scooted across the couch toward my chair and transferred into it. I both wanted to get away from him and never wanted to get away from him. “I know you’re not,” I finally said, “but it’s going to turn into one. Again. And I had too nice an afternoon with you to want that.”
His face softened. “I had a good time too, Max.”
This was my chance. I could suggest we extend the good time and invite him into my bed, for more sex or just to sleep.
Was I going to nut up and make the offer?
What was there to lose? Oh, right, my pride.
Potentially my place to stay, even if I didn’t really believe he’d kick me out.
But it could sure end in me being so embarrassed that I didn’t want to stay.
I chewed absently on my lower lip as I thought.
“Yo, Max!” Lucas waved a hand in front of my face. “You zoned out,” he said when I focused on him. “You must really be tired. Go on and head to bed, I’ll clean up in here.”
“I…” I began, then stopped. I was too afraid I’d find out that he’d just been having some one-off fun with me to ask. “I will,” I finished. “Thanks. Have a good night.”
He gave me a distracted smile and nod, already pouring Trivial Pursuit pie slices back into their storage bag.
With a quiet sigh, I headed down the hallway toward my room.