16. MAX
MAX
Things were still tense between us when Wednesday rolled around.
We were still sleeping together, mostly in Lucas’s bed, but we hadn’t had sex since I asked him for the loan, and I was increasingly convinced that I had royally fucked things up by asking.
Desperate to get back in his good graces, I’d offered him a foot massage when he came home Tuesday night after being on his feet all day, and he’d turned it down, looking kind of disturbed that I’d made the offer.
Had I made things so weird that he couldn’t even stand for me to touch him anymore?
I was viciously on-edge as we got into the car to go view the first apartment prospect.
I was trying desperately not to take my feelings out on Lucas with sarcasm or snappishness, but I was pretty sure he could read me well enough to know my dark feelings.
Should I apologize in advance for anything bad I said to him today?
“Luc,” I began, only to be interrupted by his bright voice.
“So I’ve been thinking,” he said. “I know you said you’d need maybe four or five hundred dollars to get moved into wherever you go, but I don’t want you to be broke as soon as you’re on your own. Would you let me give you a little extra? Maybe another two hundred?”
I blinked. What? He was asking my permission to put himself out even more for my sake? Why? “Huh?” I croaked out.
He glanced at me from behind the wheel, expression enigmatic. “I know, you probably don’t want it. I know you want to do it on your own. But I can’t stand the thought of you needing something and not having the money for it until whenever your next check comes in.”
I honestly wasn’t sure whether I was grateful for his generosity, offended by his paternalism, or hurt by how eager he was to do anything to get me out of his place.
Only one of those three was acceptable to express to him, though, so I did my best to perform gratitude.
“Wow, Lucas. That’s...incredibly kind of you. You don’t have to do that.”
As we stopped at a red light, he directed his full attention to me and gave me a determined look that told me he wasn’t going to accept no for an answer. “I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Consider the extra money a gift.”
Oh, hell no. “There’s no way I’m letting you ‘gift’ me a couple hundred bucks,” I said immediately. “That’s your money that you worked hard for. I’m not going to freeload off you anymore.”
A car honked behind us, and we both noticed at the same time that the light had turned green.
Lucas hit the gas and focused on the road as he considered his next words.
“It’s not,” he finally settled on, “freeloading. Gifts are things given out of kindness and affection, not out of expectation. I know you don’t expect me to give you anything, but that’s what makes me want to give it to you even more: I know you won’t ask for the help if you need it, so I want to make sure you have it ahead of time. ”
Why was this man so damn nice? This would be so much easier if he was even just a little bit of an asshole; then I could convince myself that it would be nice to be apart from him.
Instead, every word he said just made me want more to clutch him to my chest and never let go.
If for no other reason than not wanting to get us run off the road, though, that wasn’t ok, so I rubbed my aching leg and chewed on my lower lip.
“I wish you wouldn’t, Luc, gift or not. It’s too much.
But,” I went on before he could protest, “if you’re dead set on this, then all I can say is ‘thank you’.
You’re a truly kind man and I don’t deserve everything you’ve done and will be doing for me. ”
A small, almost sad smile flickered across his face. “You deserve that and more, Max.” He cut his eyes to me and then away again. “Leg hurting?”
The subject change caught me off guard. “What?”
“You’re rubbing it.” He gestured at my hand, which was still on my thigh. I hadn’t realized I was still massaging it.
“Oh. Yeah, a little,” I admitted. “It’ll be fine; it’s just tired from PT, I think. The therapist has me working muscles I didn’t even know I had. And I was a damn pole dancer.” My legs had been my biggest moneymaker in that job; you can’t work a pole well without a core and legs of steel.
He smirked. “I still kind of can’t believe you did that. Not because it’s bad or anything,” he tacked on hastily, “but just because your clothes and attitude are so...conservative that it’s hard to picture you giving lap dances. I mean, you’re overjoyed to be working nerdy tech support!”
Snorting a laugh, I waved that away. “I didn’t just give them; I was fucking good at lap dances.
” Should I offer to prove it by giving him one?
That would be a hell of a goodbye gift, and I thought we’d both enjoy it.
Yes, I decided. “Any time you want to see one, I’m happy to perform for you as a demonstration. ”
His tongue darted out, wetting his lips, but before he could say whatever it was he was about to say, his phone said, “You have arrived at your destination.” He tapped the brakes, and we both looked up at the apartment building we were outside of.
“You want me to drop you on the street before I go park?” he asked me.
“I’m not sure how close I’ll be able to find a spot. ”
I started to refuse out of pride before common sense took over. Yeah, it was probably wise to take the offer rather than find myself stuck on the third floor of a parking garage or something. “Sure,” I said in spite of myself. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He pulled to the curb, put on his flashers, and shifted into park.
Before he could get out and come around to help me, I had grabbed my chair from between the seats and was maneuvering it over my lap and out the passenger side door.
“Max, I could have helped with that,” he scolded as I bashed myself in the knee with the corner of the chair and bit out a curse.
I shook my head. “I have to get used to doing this myself if I’m ever going to drive again.
” I got the chair onto the sidewalk and unfolded it, then transferred myself into it.
“I’m good to go,” I told him, patting the side of the car to signal to him to pull away.
He looked unhappy about it, but he nodded, turned off his flashers, and went.
A few minutes later, he came jogging down the block toward where I waited on the sidewalk. “Found a spot a few blocks away, up a hill,” he said through heaving breaths that indicated that a few trips to the gym might not go amiss. “You ready?”
“Yup.” I pushed toward the entrance to the building and found the buzzer for the correct apartment. “Here goes nothing.” I hit the button, and within minutes, we were exiting an elevator onto the tenth floor.
“So far, so good,” Lucas commented, looking around. “The elevator is spacious and easy to access, and the hall looks clear.”
I left him to his accessibility analysis and focused on steeling myself to be nice and sociable with whoever I was about to meet. I could be personable and contain my natural snarkiness. I could.
We arrived at the door of 10-E and I knocked before I could get too nervous about it. The door swung open to reveal a tall guy in his twenties dressed in jeans and a tank top. His features were even, and his dark hair flopped over one eye. “You Max?” he asked.
“Yep,” I said, reaching out a hand to shake. “Thanks for letting me come by.” There, that sounded completely adult, right?
He grinned. “No problem. I’m Santi, and the sooner we can get the last bedroom filled, the cheaper the rent will be for me and Charlie.
C’mon in.” He stepped aside and Lucas and I entered the apartment, both looking around to take it in.
We’d entered into a living room that reminded me of Lucas’s, with a dark-colored couch and a small dining table.
Unlike Lucas’s apartment, however, this one was cluttered, with shoes and bags and books scattered all over the floor.
Santi turned and started walking deeper into the apartment, talking to us over his shoulder. “You’d have the smallest bedroom, but I think it still has enough room for your wheelchair. The bathroom you and Charlie’d share is to the left -” He pointed. “And I have an en suite.”
I tried to follow him, but my wheels got hung up on a shoe.
I pulled myself backwards, stifling a curse.
Lucas’s eyes flicked from Santi to me, and he subtly kicked the shoe aside and started clearing me a path across the room.
I hoped these guys could be trained to keep their stuff off the floor, or this prospect was going to be a loss.
Santi stopped at the door of what must have been the empty bedroom and looked back to see why we weren’t right behind him. His eyes widened. “Oh! Oh, sorry. We’re kind of messy. Just shove stuff out of your way as necessary.”
I started to say it was fine, but Lucas beat me. “You’ll have to keep the floors clear for him,” he informed Santi sternly, “or else he can’t move around. No shoes, no piles of stuff, nothing lying around.”
Santi winced apologetically. “Yeah, definitely, sorry.” Now that we’d caught up with him, he swung open the bedroom door and Lucas and I inched inside.
The room was of moderate size; big enough to fit a bed and still let me maneuver, but not much more than that.
The walls were a plain white, and there were a few holes that indicated the room’s last resident had had stuff hung up and never patched them.
I wheeled into the center of the room and spun my chair in a circle. “This could work,” I told Lucas, who nodded hesitantly. I directed my attention back to Santi, who was hanging back in the doorway. “Can I see the kitchen?”
“Course. This way.” He led us back down the hallway toward the kitchen, then waved us into it. “We each have a shelf in the fridge. Label your food in the cabinets; we’re pretty good at leaving each other’s stuff alone.”