Sorry, Not Sorry

- 39

On the 3rd, Max comes over to my house for us to pack the stuff into his car. Well, I'm doing the packing while he's controlling the music.

Currently, he's lying on my bed, blasting music from his phone while badly and obnoxiously singing along.

"I'm excited for this." I say, in the break of quiet between songs. "It was only a suggestion a month ago and now... It's happening." I smile, shoving a shirt in my bag. The next song starts, and Max hums along while responding.

"Oh, totally. I'm excited to get out of this town, see the big city, and see the place you grew up." He reaches his arms up towards the ceiling, flexing his fingers, muttering something under his breath.

"Huh? Speak up." I shout over the music.

He pauses the song, sitting up. "I was singing." He says.

"No you weren't, because this whole time you've been singing you've been belting your lungs out, not singing quietly." I poke my finger into his chest, pushing him back onto the bed. He sighs, his arms above his head as he unpauses the music and proceeds to lip sync agressivley, pointedly glaring at my back as I bend over to pick something up off the floor. I roll my eyes, walking out into the kitchen.

I tip the meds into my palm, counting them once and then again to make sure I counted right. "Mm, that's enough." I mumble after screwing the cap back on and placing it back on its shelf. "It's a few more than what I'll need on the trip."

"Xay?!" Max calls from my room, and I rush back in, nearly slipping with my socks on the floor.

I stop at the doorway, "What?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"I thought you left me." He says, from where he's sitting on my mattress.

I look at his pouty face, bursting out laughing. "What are you, Three?" I lower myself to the carpeted floor, flopping down and lying on my back, facing the spinning fan blades.

"Hey." He stands above me, one foot on either side of my body. He crosses his arms, looking down at me. "That's offensive." He says.

"To three-year-olds?" I chuckle, laughing harder as he pokes me in the rib with his foot.

"Hey!" He hisses.

"Sorry, sorry." I start sitting up, but he has me trapped on he floor. "Help me up?"

"Nope. Bullies stay down there."

"Come on, Max! Let me up." He doesn't move as I punch at his foot. "I need to pack!"

"And I need you to ask nicely." He says calmly.

"And you say you're not Three." I pout, but he only presses his feet closer to my sides, making it harder for me to wriggle free.
"Max! Fine, pretty please let me up! " I beg.

Max smiles, apparently happy with my answer as he bends over, effortlessly picking me up and placing me on the bed. I sit there stunned for a few seconds as he stands with his hands on his hips and a smug grin tugging at his lips.
"Huh. You don't look that strong." I say, my eyes squinted.

"Alright, back down there." He sighs, grabbing my angles to drag me back down.

"Hey! Nuh-uh!" I chuckle, scrambling away to sit up against the wall. "I'm sorry! Sorry! "

"Good." He smiles, flopping down next to me in the bed,  his arms up in the air as he stretches and flexes his arm muscles. "Do I seriously not look that strong?" He asks, glancing his flexed arm.

"Nah, you look strong. I just didn't expect you to be able to pick me up so effortlessly." I say, running a hand through my hair. Holy shit stop flexing!!! I'm going crazy.