Is he really a bad boy? [English]

~Chapter 9~

"So you do the questions and I do the summary?" I asked him.
"Okay."
"You can use the computer if you want," I offered.
"You trust me with your computer," he asked amusedly.
"There's nothing on it you shouldn't see. That's why I offered you my computer and not my laptop," I explained.
"Ahh so is your laptop something like your personal diary?"
"No, rather my whole life," I simply replied.
"Your whole life? How am I supposed to understand that?
"No idea how you should understand it. I don't ask you why you are tattooed from head to toe, either" I looked at him inconspicuously, he grinned while typing. It was a beautiful smile. It looked good on him.
"Do you want something to drink?" I asked Maxim.
"Yes, why not?" I handed him a Coke can and opened mine. We sat already for over 3 hours, at the lecture. Unexpectedly we had neither bitched nor argued. Meanwhile, I really believed that he wasn't so bad after all.

"Are you done?" he asked after a while.
"I only need one sentence...", I quickly typed in the last words and saved the files.
"Done"
"Great," he said.
"I'll print it all out and take it with me tomorrow."
"All right."
We sat there for a while and kept quiet. It wasn't an unpleasant silence. We simply had nothing to say.
"I'm expressing myself through them," he suddenly said.
"What do you mean?" I asked in surprise.
"My tattoos", he replied. I turned to him and looked at him. "I express myself through them. Distinguish me with it from the others."
"Are you tattooed everywhere?" I asked and immediately regretted it. What kind of question was that?
"No, only on the arms and on the chest."
"Why did you have them made? Do they all have a meaning for you?" You are slowly getting too curious for me, my brain whispered to me.
"I got the names of my parents tattooed after their death. That's how it started. But not all of them have a meaning. Some are just there."
"Your parents are dead", I whispered shocked. To be honest, I never expected anything like that.
"Yes, when I was 12, they died. Car accident. Since that day I live with foster families. None of them liked me, though," he said with a crooked grin. "I always did what I wanted. I still do. Now I also live with a foster family. Actually, they are okay and rich. They have too much money. They can't even spend that much. But I have my own car for that."
"Aren't you already of age?"
"Yes, why?"
"If you're already of age, then you're no longer obliged to live with foster families, are you?"
"Yes. Actually yes. But I've been living there for over a year now. Somehow I got used to them, and they seem to have got used to me too. Otherwise, they would have kicked me out long ago".

That silence again.

"Your turn."
"With what?"
"With the talking. I told you something about me and now it's your turn to tell me something about you," he demanded. Actually, I didn't have to tell him anything, I didn't owe him anything, but he was also so open and honest with me. Why did he trust me so much? He had shown me a completely different side of himself again. When telling the story he seemed somehow vulnerable. Nobody else knew anything about him. He was closed and cold. But he had opened himself to me and built up trust and for some reason, I couldn't and didn't want to hurt that trust.
"Okay. Um... I emigrated to Florida at the age of 7. My parents and I are from Russia. And..."
"I knew it," he suddenly said. "Your accent can't be overheard," he said.
"I have no accent," I disagreed.
"Of course. You roll the R, pronounce some words really Russian and yes...", he suddenly said in Russian. My amazement could not be overlooked.
"Why did you never mention that?" I asked.
"We were actually only arguing, so it would have been really stupid if I had just moved out with it. " Now that he said it, of course, he was right.
"Okay, go on," he said.
"Okay...we moved here, my parents started two companies, built a life and two years ago they split up. I stayed with my father. And my mom, she's got a new boyfriend."
"You don't like him, do you?"
"Not really. But I have nothing to do with him, that's why I don't really care about him."
"What about your boyfriend?"
"My boyfriend?"
"Yeah, the guy who almost killed me, Jason or something."
"Oh, you mean Jake! Jacob is my best friend. Not my boyfriend. He's like a big brother to me and Mia," somehow I felt like I had to justify myself to Max.
"Oh, okay. I think I should go now," he said and stood up.
"Okay", I tried to hide my disappointment, "I'll see you tomorrow," I said and was pulled into a hug by him.
"You hugged me," I said, shocked, and could have slapped me for saying it out loud shortly after.
"I know. I was there," he said casually.
"Why?" I asked. Shut your mouth!
"Why not?" he replied and winked at me. "Don't forget the paper," he said and left the house.

What the hell had just happened here?

Okay, guys. What do you think about Maxim? Do you like him? Who do you like more? Nica or Maxim?