They're all gathered in her room on a late afternoon and she's looking at him. He's kind of avoiding her but he's not sure she's noticed. Her friends have stopped by for a few days, he knows them quite well and he's joined them for outings but he's had more time to himself than he usually does. It's served as a nice break, he's good with his own company, he's lived alone for most of his life and he's okay with most aspects of it but there is something lonely and disconnected about being alone on the road. If he were a musician, he would write songs about the disconnection he's feeling to everything, whatever is on tv, whoever he's talking to, even his favorite songs sound slightly out of tune. But he's not a musician and he's never been good with words so he buries himself in work on his laptop instead and tries to ignore the fact that being on the road isn't the only cause for his disconcertion.
But the way she looks at him pierces right through him and her eyes remind him, he remembers the way they were half-shut as she bit her lip and a wave of something he doesn't wish to define washes over his body, making him cross his legs in the chair he's sitting in, provoking that faint shame that he wasn't able to wash down with contents of his mini bar. And he suddenly wonders with slight panic if she's told her friends what they've done, if he needs to have a conversation prepared but nobody is acting any differently and he concludes, mostly for his own peace of mind, that they wouldn't be the type of people to keep quiet about that knowledge in front of him.
But he worries. He worries about the kind of person this makes him, the kind of employee he doesn't identify with, the kind of employee she doesn't deserve. How can he be what he is supposed to be when he's looking at her in this kind of light?
And he worries about the way she must look at him. He's familiar with the way she plays with other people's hearts, the way she uses people for her own needs without much regard or concern, and while he understands her reasons for doing this, knows that her true intentions are only ever to either avoid pain or rid herself of already existing pain, he never wants to be on the other side of that equation, he never wants to stop being someone she relies on to know and accept her less favorable qualities without hesitation, never wants to end up on the list of people she has cast aside.
This wasn't supposed to become that. And he's ashamed that he thought he could avoid putting himself in this position. Ashamed that he allowed their circumstances to shift away from what they've always been, away from something that worked so well.
He refuses to let her gaze linger; he dismisses her in a way that he can only hope she won't interpret as rejection, he never wants to reject her, he is supposed to be an emotionally safe place for her to let her guard down and that's too important to jeopardize but he needs to keep her at a distance for that to feel right, for that to feel safe for him, too.
She does look away, down and away and his chest feels heavy with unease but then she laughs loudly at a joke her friend makes, a joke he realizes he didn't even hear because all he ever hears is her, all he ever sees is her and sometimes it's just too all consuming. A bit of relief washes over him with the loud sound of her laugh but not enough to let it go, the little things give her away, the distant look in her eyes, the fidgeting.
He's the last one to leave her room an hour later and she's clearly pretending she doesn't notice him lingering, scrolling on her phone, that slight pout on her lips that he knows she isn't aware she's pulling whenever she's dissatisfied with something but pretending not to care. He suppresses the urge to smile knowing it wouldn't help.
"Hey."
"What?" She doesn't look up as he approaches her but her screen is visible to him now and while he doesn't actually mean to look, he can tell she's just scrolling aimlessly.
He places his index finger under her chin, urging her to look up at him, something she would never have let anyone other than him do and she follows his lead, rolling her eyes dramatically at him. He knows she doesn't like when he gets too serious but he doesn't like when she hides her feelings from him, it prevents him from reading her properly.
"Max, it's fine." She complains, dragging out the words. She doesn't like him right now. "You can go."
He does but it's at the back of his mind the rest of the day anyway, if she was upset because of him, if she's going to seek him out now that her friends have gone back to LA, he knows because he booked the flights. He wants her to as much as he doesn't. He didn't remind her that she knows where to find him this time, something he has always done when she doesn't want to talk, because he is painfully aware that it might not mean what it has always meant. Every little change in tone, every little difference in meaning keeps adding, keeps getting deeper under his skin.
It's their third and final night at this hotel, in this city and it's just after midnight when she knocks. He knows she's usually asleep by now, knows that she must have been debating this for a while and he doesn't object when she puts her lips to his and pushes him backwards into his room. She tastes like strawberry tea and toothpaste and his hands tug at her tank top, at first trying to get closer, feel her skin but then he uses it to hold her in place when he pulls away.
"What's going on?" He asks, slightly out of breath. She's trying to fight him, her lips go to his neck instead of replying, she's trying to get whatever power she feels like he's taken from her back and it's not like it isn't working.
"Stop. Talk to me."
"I don't wanna be alone." She admits and she's doing that thing where she's keeping eye contact in an unnatural manner. As if he needs more convincing, as if his hands aren't already on her skin. He lets go of her top and runs his hands underneath on her back, pulling her closer, nodding because he knows, because he would never leave her alone.
He can see the apprehension in her eyes, he can feel the tension in her body, her shoulders lifted, he knows he didn't cause it but the small things amplify it and he wants to take it all away. Her rain clouds overrule everything; all of the reasons not to are far away.
"Focus on me, then." He whispers. "Whatever is missing, look for it in me."
"Thank you." The words disappear against his lips and he pushes her backwards towards the unmade bed, his hands pulling her top over her head. He climbs over her, making sure not to leave an inch of her body untouched, his hands or his mouth, making sure to pay extra attention to wherever he is when she whimpers.
In a way, it's like the disconnection disappears when he is this close to her, when she looks at him like that, when they're moving together. The colors are back to their normal shades, the density of energy around him moves and there is relief, relaxation, he can exhale. He doesn't want to question it right now but he knows he'll have to later, he knows the consequences are hiding around the corner.
"Don't think about it." She shakes her head, as if she's been there a thousand times before and maybe she has. Maybe she knows exactly what he's feeling. He shouldn't be surprised that she knows him, that it feels like she's reading his mind but he is, because he's always made sure not to let her in like that, he has always kept a healthy emotional distance to allow more room for whatever she needs from him and she isn't supposed to know what's going on with him when he isn't choosing to tell her.
Either he is not as good at that as he thought or she pays closer attention than he gives her credit for.
"Don't worry too much. Not right now." She flips them so she is on top, forcing him to trust her and he feels terrified at how easily he is surrendering to the calm she brings, to the assurance. He feels the true depth of the undeniable bond they share right here, exactly like this and he is amazed by it, amazed by the amount of faith she has in him. Maybe living up to it doesn't mean what he's always thought it does. Maybe it simply means recognizing what she needs and giving in.
