A Criminal Kiss [Max Verstappen]

chapter eighteen

I needed to get away.

The evening air was cool as I slipped out of the back door, a sense of unease tugging at my chest. I had tried to shake it off, but the weight of my father's angry words still lingered in my mind. His frustration had been palpable, his eyes sharp with disapproval as he scolded me for sneaking out so often, for avoiding the responsibilities and obligations he had set for me. It had been the same conversation every time, a rehashing of his expectations for me to behave properly, to be seen in the right places, to play my part in the world he had designed for me.

He had demanded I stay home, to attend the next gathering at the Lockhart estate, to meet eligible suitors and act the part of the dutiful daughter. But after all the lectures, all the pressure, I knew I couldn't bear it anymore. Not now. Not when I had been so distracted by thoughts of someone else.

Max.

I needed a breath of freedom, even if only for a little while, and I knew I could find it with him. He had a way of grounding me, of making the world outside feel less suffocating. It wasn't as if I could talk to him about my father's demands—not fully, anyway. But I knew he'd understand the frustration, the desperate need to escape, even if just for an hour.

I walked quickly, my footsteps swift on the cobblestones, as the dimming sunlight cast long shadows across the street. It was quieter now, with most of the townspeople settled in for the evening. The familiar faces had disappeared, leaving behind only the occasional flicker of light in a window, the soft murmur of voices behind closed doors.

When I reached the edge of town, I paused near the stone wall, where I had seen him last. He wasn't there yet, but something in the pit of my stomach told me he would be soon. He always was, even without words, even without plans.

I waited.

It wasn't long before I heard the crunch of footsteps behind me. I turned just as Max appeared from the shadows, looking as calm and collected as always, despite the fact that I had been expecting him.

"Annalise," he said, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Back again, are we?"

His teasing tone was a welcome relief. It softened the tension that had been gnawing at me ever since I left my father's study. "You could say that," I replied, my voice lighter than I felt. "I needed a break."

Max raised an eyebrow, studying me with a knowing look. "From what exactly?"

I hesitated. Part of me wanted to tell him—wanted to share the frustration, the anger, the sense of being trapped. But I couldn't. Not yet. Not in the way I wanted to. Instead, I forced a smile, trying to brush it off.

"From being expected to live a certain way, I suppose," I said quietly, walking along the path, my pace slow and deliberate. "From being told what to do all the time."

He fell into step beside me, matching my pace. The space between us felt smaller now, the air between us lighter. "I get it," he said after a beat. "People tell you what to be, who to marry, how to act. It's a lot to carry around."

I nodded, looking straight ahead at the winding road before us. The distant sound of the river could be heard, and the wind gently rustled the leaves above.

"I don't think I can keep doing it," I said quietly, almost to myself. "Pretending that everything is fine. That I'm fine. My father... He thinks I'm some kind of prize to be won, like my opinion doesn't matter at all."

Max's footsteps slowed slightly as if he had heard something more than just my words.

I swallowed hard, the tightness in my throat making it difficult to speak. "I don't know who I am anymore. Sometimes I feel like I'm losing myself. Like there's this version of me that everyone else expects, and then there's the person I actually am—and the two don't match at all."

He glanced at me, his expression serious now, the teasing smile gone. "It's not easy, is it?" he murmured. "Living up to everyone else's expectations, carrying a life that isn't yours."

"No," I said quietly, my voice strained. "It's exhausting."

We walked in silence for a while, the weight of the conversation settling over us like a blanket. I could feel the tension in the air, but it wasn't uncomfortable—it was familiar, like a secret we both shared. Neither of us had to say the obvious—that life was hard, that expectations were stifling, that the path I was expected to follow wasn't one I wanted to take.

Max finally broke the silence, his voice calm and steady. "What do you want, Annalise? If you could choose."

It was a question I had been avoiding, even in my own mind. I had been too afraid to admit it, even to myself.

"I want... I want something real," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Something that's mine. Not what everyone else wants for me. Not what my father has planned. I want to be... free."

Max's gaze softened, and for the first time, I felt like I could breathe, as though the air had cleared. There was something in his eyes that made me feel understood, like the weight I had carried for so long had been shared, even if only for a brief moment.

"You'll find it," he said, his voice a quiet promise. "But you have to be willing to fight for it."

"I don't know how," I confessed, my throat tight. "I don't know how to fight against everything that's been laid out for me. I don't even know where to start."

Max stopped walking and turned to face me, his eyes steady and unwavering. "You start by not accepting the life that's been given to you. You don't have to do everything the way everyone else expects. There's always a way out, Annalise. You just have to take it."

"It's not that simple," I said, shaking my head. "My father won't allow it. He won't let me."

Max reached out, his hand brushing against my arm, his touch warm and steady. "You don't have to do it alone."

For a long moment, I just stood there, feeling his presence beside me like an anchor, grounding me in a way I hadn't realized I needed.

"Thank you," I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. "I needed to hear that."

Max smiled at me, the warmth in his expression making my heart ache in a way I couldn't explain. "You don't need to thank me. Just remember—you don't have to follow a path that's been laid out for you. There's always another choice."

Maybe, just maybe, there was a way out.

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thanks for reading:)
I know this was very similar to the other chapters of them talking but oh well...
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