Thursday, October 11th, 2018- Monte Carlo, Monaco
The Penthouse, Home Sweet Home
They say time flies when you're having fun, the same cannot be said for the passage of time when one is avoiding having a conversation that needs to be had.
It's been a little over a week, eight days to be exact, since the morning when Max had made you his offer and still, nothing has happened.
Not for a lack of trying on his part, because while you can't go so far as to say that he's gone back on his promise to you by trying to force the conversation on you, Max hasn't exactly been subtle about expressing his interest in getting the discussion over and done with.
At this point, you're avoiding talking to him about it out of pure, unadulterated spite.
And to be entirely honest, there's really no end to that in sight.
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Saturday, October 13th, 2018- Monte Carlo, Monaco
The Penthouse
"Oh, I didn't realize anyone was still awake," you come up short at the sight of Max sitting on the sofa in the living room, his feet propped up in front of him, dressed comfortably in a Red Bull sweatshirt and a ratty pair of sweatpants you'd been meaning to hunt down and throw out for weeks now.
"Don't just stand there, hovering," he says placidly and jerks his head at the spot next to him on the massive couch.
"Why are you sitting in the dark alone? That's fucking peculiar behavior even for you."
"First of all, I'm not sitting in the dark, because before you wandered in and started picking on me for reading in my own living room-"
"Our living room," you correct him.
"Fine, whatever, our living room- Can I finish what I was saying or-"
"Hey, be my guest, no one's stopping you-"
"Actually, I think you'll find that you are in fact stopping me-"
"I think someone is up past his bedtime because that is quite the attitude you've got there."
"Think you can behave long enough for me to finish a sentence without being interrupted-"
"I mean I could but why would I want to?"
"Are you done? You good, now?" Max cocks his head at you, eyebrows arched, "great! I was reading before you waltzed in, and because I have this," he cracks open the hardback book you somehow hadn't noticed sitting on his lap until now, and brandishes a page sized rectangle at you, before pushing a button along one side, the LEDs flickers embedded along the left side flicker into life, a soft, pleasant white glow emanating from reading light and turning the clear acrylic incandescent, "that's why I don't have the lights on, clearly, this is the superior option."
"I didn't even know you could read," you say with a playful grin, shooting him a teasing wink when he only glares at you.
"Fuck you," Max says with a disgruntled huff but doesn't bother to hide the smile that tugs at one corner of his mouth, "you know it won't be hard to make you regret that, should I start with the part where my dad didn't really let me have friends so more often than not growing up, the only friends I really had were my books-"
"Not the Jos Verstappen horror story," you grimace at him, "you're still a fucking nerd for that- Also, I thought we went over this, you're not allowed to order anything from SkyMall anymore since you seem to see that magazine and just throw what little sense you do have just right out the window."
