Chapter Forty-Six
Forty-Six
Comments
Oh my god, you’re such a handsome dude! I love that accent! So sexy… Benedict Cumberbatch has nothing on you!Marguerite in Los Angeles.
I have a precious bead you can check out, just sayin’…Lina in New Jersey.
I can think of MUCH funner things to do with that pinpointer.Emily in Paris.
Really? Emily in Paris? Come on.
You can lark in my mud any time.Ella in London.
Ella has a clear idea of what she wants, at least, which is more than can be said for me.
Man, I wish you’d dig me up.Veronica in Maine.
What? What does that even mean, Veronica? You’re hoping Max will dig up your corpse? That’s not sexy, that’s just disturbing. That’s the worst flirting I’ve ever heard.
Max will read every one of these comments. Naturally, some of the commenters will have left their email addresses, so he’ll have a way to get in touch, should he want to, and I wonder if he will. For all I know, he’s turned his YouTube mudlarking channel into his own personal dating site.
Hundreds of eligible women but only one man. Why clip his wings and stop at Greta?
Unless he’s in love with her. He might easily be in love with her.
I hear Nemo scratching at the bathroom door, and I go to him, sitting down on the cold floor, my back against the old tiles. His purr gets louder, and I offer him my forehead, which he bops with his own and then licks me on the nose.
‘I’m sorry about this, boy. Maybe I should have let you get rehomed to someone who has “more of a plan for their life” instead of dragging you along to a snake house.’
Those words of Max’s still ring in my ears in the dark hours of the night. Because he’s right. I don’t have a plan. I just drift from place to place, like a fucking jellyfish.