born to die | 𝐦𝐚𝐱 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧

𝐢𝐯.

"𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠?" Max asked me looking up from his phone.

"Calling a room service. I'm starving," I sighed waiting for someone to pick up the phone.

"Order me some food as well," He said and went back to his phone. I glared at him.

He didn't even bother to say "please".
How could we ever be friends at all?
I seriously have no fucking idea. This attitude of his is just insufferable.

"I'm not ordering you shit," I replied still waiting for someone to pick up the phone.

"What the fuck? Just order me some food as well. I don't even care what, just something," He groaned.

"Please, it's unnecessary to call the room service twice when we are in the same room. Please just order me something," Max added putting his phone away and giving me his full attention.

"I was waiting for you to say "please" now that you said it, fine," Then they finally picked up the phone

"That is so childish," Max sighed quietly as I ordered us both pasta.

"You are very rude, are you aware of it?" I looked at Max as I hung up the phone.

"Well, you aren't exactly nice either," he scoffed crossing his arms.

"You are only nice when you need something," he added "and you aren't even nice, you are just decent," he shook his head and I rolled my eyes.

"Says the one with the nickname "Mad Max"," I mumbled under my nose but made sure he could still hear what I said.

Max ignored my words and took out his phone transferring his attention to whatever he was doing on his phone.

I sat down on the ground and leaned against the white wall trying to collect my thoughts and mentally prepare for this race week.

"Just so you know, you are sleeping on the couch," I broke the silence.

"Why me? You sleep on the couch!" Max scoffed crossing his arms and giving me a stern look.

"Let's make a deal then," I suggest and he nods for me to continue.

"Whoever will have a better lap time at today's practice will sleep on the bed, the loser takes the couch," I suggest and he agrees.

"Enjoy sleeping on the couch," He says and just as I opened my mouth to fire back we heard knocking on the door,"

"Food!" I immediately stood up and ran to the door opening them widely.

"Your pasta ma'am," a young tall boy, definitely a college student handed me two plates of pasta that were lying on a food cart.

"Thank you," I thanked him and took the plates to our room.

"Omg it smells so good," I said after closing the door.

Max stood up and walked up to me taking one of the plates. "It does smell delicious," he agrees and sits on the sofa and I go sit on the bed.

"I love spaghetti bolognese with my whole heart," I chuckle eating the spaghetti.

"I know, you eat them during every single race week. Even though your nutritionist wouldn't be very happy to find out," he chuckled as well.

"I think he knows but prefers to just ignore it since confronting me about it wouldn't probably change anything," we both laugh.

It felt weird. We weren't supposed to laugh together. This must be some kind of mind game or something.