One Night Stand (Max George

Chapter Two

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♕Kristina's POV♕

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"Krissy! Would you take out the trash?" My mom called. I groaned. There were nine of us in the house at the moment, but of course I got stuck doing it.

I pulled the black garbage bag out and hauled it over my shoulder, opening the front door to take it to the big trash can at the bottom of the driveway.

"Hey, Krissy." I heard someone call. I looked up to see Max getting his mail. He came over to see me.

"Hi, Max. What's up?" I asked him.

"Nothing much." He shrugged.

"Same. Uh, if you're not doing anything... I know you wanted to see my studio?" I asked slyly. His expression brightened.

"Yeah, that'd be great." He smiled.

"Okay. Come on inside." I invited. We walked up the driveway and inside.

"Mom, me and Max will be up in my room!" I called before jogging up the stairs, Max following behind.

"You still call her that? It sounds so weird..." Max scrunched his nose up and I chuckled.

"Well, I don't have a British accent. It might take a while for it to develop." I smiled as we went up to the third floor.

"Give me back my headphones!" Matthew yelled at Adam, shoving him into the wall.

"These ones are mine! Yours are green!" Adam replied, shoving him back.

"No!"

"Mom!" They both yelled.

"Just ignore them." I told Max who chuckled and I led him over to the stairs to enter my room.

"Top floor, huh?" Max asked as we went up.

"Yep." I said, opening the door. As he entered and got a glimpse of my recording equipment, his jaw dropped.

"All of this is yours?!" He marveled, looking like a little kid in a candy store.

"Andy... he spoils me." I said, sitting in the spinning chair in front of all of the equipment. "Can I hear you sing?"

"I... I'm not a good singer. Really, you don't want to hear me sing." He stuttered.

"What? I thought you were really in to music." I asked in confusion.

"I meant... uh, guitar!" He said too quickly, running over to my acoustic.

"Oh, Matthew taught me how to play. Music runs in our family. Can you play something for me?" I asked as we sat down together on the futon couch on the side of the room, him with the guitar in his lap.

"What kind of song would you like to hear?" Max asked, strumming once. The strings' vibration echoed around the room and bounced off of the walls.

"Have you ever written any?" I asked.

"Actually... yes. But there are lyrics that go along with the song. And since I can't sing, you will." He smirked at me.

"Alright, I will. Go get the lyrics for me." I smiled in reply and he nodded, getting up.

"You can come. I mean, if you want to." He blushed.

"Umm, okay." I said awkwardly, standing up after him.

We left my room and went downstairs. My weird brothers had solved their headphone issue and were probably watching Pretty Little Liars on Netflix. Yes, all three of my brothers watch that show.