23. Making Melodies
"Are you wearing dress shoes?" Max asks, eyeing my feet. I nod, not understanding where this is going at. "Who the hell does that? I mean, most of us know you're a master criminal , so. . . Who you try'na fool?" I roll my eyes. Wow, one year later and she's still pretty idiotic. I know it sounds rude, but it's Max we're talking about. Max's voice snaps me out of my train of thoughts. "Keep rolling your eyes. Maybe you'll find a brain back there." Whoa. Did I say that out loud? Or does she just feel the need to criticize me every chance she gets?
"Girl, calm your tits," I say, looking away. I reach my car and find Max standing behind me, arms crossed. Seriously, I don't know what type of alien landed and abducted Max's body, but I can honestly say, she ain't coming back to Earth. I know Max has a flawless body, but that does not make it okay for aliens to use her body like that. Or in any other way. But now, she's just some treasure in my life. Some people become such a treasure, you just want to bury them.
"No, I won't," Max says. I raise an eyebrow. Max starts violently shaking her upper body, attempting to somehow jiggle her friers. At first I was just joking about the Max abduction. Now, I can say that it is true. One year really changes people. Especially people like Max. She's celesexual. I don't think she knows this, but I do.
"Max, are you celesexual?" I ask out of the blue. Max freezes, her fingers freezing over the volume dial. She pulls it away, setting it on her lap. I watch as she pulls her denim button up down, clears her throat, and sighs. Oh snap. I knew it. She made it way too obvious. She nods. I inwardly chuckle. She would be. For those of you who don't know, here's a quick definition of celesexual.
Celesexual: Someone who is only attracted to celebrities, that are in most cases; far too old, already taken and will never know your existence. A celesexual individual will, however, be determined that he/she is in fact in a serious relationship with those celebrities.
"Who is the lucky person?" I say, wiggling my eyebrows. I keep my eyes on the road. Once again, even former criminals follow the laws. Max face palms herself.
"Don't tell anyone, but they're name starts with an 'N', okay?" She whispers. I gasp.
"Holy shit! It's Niall, isn't it?" I nearly pull into the next lane, earning an angry honk from the people in the next car. I steady the steering wheel, my gaze worriedly flicking over to Max. What if she developed feelings for Niall while I was gone? What if they're dating? What if I can't sweep her off her feet? I mean, what?
"No, you idiot!" Max scolds. Whoa, for a moment there I actually cared. Wait, no I didn't. I only panicked because my car almost crashed. Yeah, that's it. My brain retorted. Well it is. Keep telling yourself that, buddy. I will. You do that. I am. Okay. Yeah, okay. Bye. See you later. Anyway. I turned my attention back to Max, hitching an eyebrow. "It's no one! Really, Zayn? Celebrities are all rich, snobby people who think they run the world."
"I'm a celebrity," I mumbled.
"Hence my point." I frowned, knitting my dark eyebrows together. Max continued toying with the radio, switching stations every two seconds. Wow, she was really picky. Finally, she turned the radio off, huffing as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Let's make up a song, okay?" I nodded, noticing we had a long way before we got to the drive-in movie theater I was planning on taking Max to. And anyway, why not? "You wanna start?" I just nodded, thinking up of lyrics in my head. Oh wait. I said bye to my brain a few moments ago. Fuck.
"Bananas, bananas.
Like Hannah Montana.
Make me holla
At Yo Momma," I blurt out. I know it's random, but I have no brain right now. Nonetheless, Max continues.
"Cherries, Cherries,
I want a Mercedes.
Drive through town,
Like the Twin Harries," Max continues. We are on a roll.
"Showers, Showers,
Make great flowers.
Like April Showers,
Bring May Flowers," I continue, thinking of our seasons.
"Zayn, Zayn,
Is so vain.
He thinks he can just run away from his problems and use money to fix them when in reality that can't happen and he's such a jerk that deserves to --"
"Whoa, whoa. . . Take it easy. . ." I butt in. To be honest, I don't know what just happened. One minute we were happily singing random songs and then next she suddenly decides I should die. If she didn't like me, why didn't she send me to he -- "downstairs" a long time ago? I'll never understands girls. "Let's continue. . ." Max takes a deep breath before starting again.
"Smart, Smart,
I like art.
Just like hearts,
I want Pop-tarts," Max says. It's random but at least she's not murdering me in words.
"Flats, flats,
Need doormats.
Baseball bats,
To keep out rats," I continue, bobbing my head with the nonexistent melody.
"Ass, ass,
Made of mass.
Ends up on grass.
After drinking a glass," Max belts out.
"Boo hoo,
I lost a shoe.
It was blue.
I need new shoes," I say, completely out of ideas by now.
"Moon, moon,
Up away. . ." Max pauses, furrowing her eyebrows. Finally, she snaps her fingers, clearing her throat. "In the sky like Zayn when he ditched us for money but he's back now and yeah. . ." She sings. We stop at a red light. I start widlly clapping my hands, faking tears. Max rolls her eyes.
We should start a band.
With me as lead singer, of course.
**
Filler, sorry. I swear I'll try to update more! 3 or 4 chapters over my Break, so I thought that would do. But, I'm back! Every thing in the song is mine! I wrote it, so please no stealing and making it the best damn song ever, kay? Enjoy x
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Criminal VS. Criminal || мαℓιк
FanfictionI could tell you my dad is London's most famous drug dealer. I could tell you we use marketing as cover up. And I could tell you I've been in a jail a couple times. But I don't want to tell you all the bad things about me. I want to change. I wan...
