Fishing Trip//Max Joseph//Catfish: The TV Show//Catfish

*Chapter Twenty-Three*

Edit: We just hit 4k!! I love you guys!💙

Heya! I took a quick break for the holidays, so that's why I didn't upload last week. So sorry! Also, I'd like to wish you guys a late Happy Holidays! Comment down below what winter holiday you celebrate! Pls vote!

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-Ellie's POV-

     "Oh my god. Max. Max! Why is it sticky?" I cringed and looked down at my hand. Leaning to the side, I peered around the tree to find Max—his face in his hands, hysterically laughing. "You know what?" I asked, laughing. "You're an ass." He snorted from behind the tree.

     I covered my eyes and chuckled. "It's sap, babe." I laughed, but felt the butterflies flutter in my stomach from the nickname. He called me that often, but still, every time—butterflies. It was cute. I called him that too. Every time I said it, I wondered if it had the same effect on him.

     I watched him kneel down by the trunk of the tree. "What're you doing?" I asked, kneeling down with him. "Tightening the things on the tree stand." I raised an eyebrow and gave a laugh. Chuckling, I said, "Okay, well if you're gonna do that, I'm gonna get takeout. What do you want?"

     Max looked disappointed. Why did he look disappointed? "Elle... come on," he wined. "We gotta do the lights, and the ornaments, and the star, and..." He trailed off with a frown. Max continued on with, "C'mon. You and me, me and you, right?"

     I opened my mouth slightly to say something, then decided not to. Turning my head to the side, I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Max," I reasoned. "You don't understand. I don't know how to do this. I've never decorated a tree before. How do you even..." I threw my hands in the air as a vague gesture to the entire living room.

     I heard Max sigh inwardly. He stood from his crouch beside the tree and walked toward me. I was standing off to the side, closer to the front door than where the tree was. I winced and looked away when I felt his arms wrap around me. He was still wearing his coat from outside and he smelled like Christmas tree.

     "Hug me back," he whispered. I reached up and wrapped my arms around his waist. Snuggling closer, I leaned my head in the crook of his neck. "I'm such a disappointing person." I frowned at his sigh. "No, you're not." Pulling away from the hug, he cupped my cheeks with his hands and leaned closer.

"There's that look again," I thought. "That, 'I pity you' look." He kissed me and I kissed back, faking a smile. "You good?" he asked. I smiled again and nodded. I heard myself say yes, but everything inside me was screaming no.

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The rest of the evening was quiet—too quiet. Max put the tree in its stand and wrapped strands of lights through the branches. He saved the ornaments and star for tomorrow. "You gotta let the branches drop before you put them on," he informed.

We ate popcorn and watched a movie—well, he watched the movie... I stared off into space, lost in thought. The thing that was bothering me was that look. I wasn't mad at him, no—I was mad at me. I was the reason he wasn't going to have a normal Christmas this year.

It bothered me that I didn't know how to decorate a tree. Of course I'd seen people decorate them before, you know, in movies. But I'd never done it myself. No, my mom didn't go out and buy a tree. She didn't wrap presents, or make Christmas dinner. She didn't even know how to use a microwave, are you kidding?

As a kid, I celebrated weekdays. School lasted most of the day, and being away from mom was a good thing. When 3:15 rolled around every afternoon, I'd drag my feet all the way to the bus stop. Hell no, I didn't want to go home.