Friction

Chapter 45

As Max gazed back at Nina's concerned, expectant expression, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that he had fallen into some kind of semi-honey trap.

The tacos and ceviche.

Her seemingly innocent, little lap dance.

All leading up to the one fucking thing that he didn't want to address: Last night's meltdown in the parking lot.

Max was sure that Nina had pure intentions, but he didn't know how to answer her. In fact, he was determined to keep his mouth shut. The last thing Max wanted was for Nina to pity him. He suspected even a person as understanding as Nina wouldn't look at him the same way again once she found out about the shitshow that had been his childhood.

Girls never dated or fucked guys that they felt sorry for—not that Max had plans to make a move on Nina anymore, of course—but he wanted her to continue seeing him as an equal. Their friendship mattered to him. A lot. Even if he couldn't claim her as his girlfriend, then, at least, he would try his damnedest to keep her in his life. As a friend.

As a friend.

Fucking hell, those three little words depressed the crap out of him even more.

In direct contrast to his internal turmoil, Max forced a smile on his face and assured Nina, "There's nothing to talk about."

Then, he placed his hands around Nina's waist and tried to set her aside. Gently. However, she refused to budge from his lap and retaliated by dipping closer to him.

"I don't believe you," Nina insisted. "Something happened in the Rothamsted parking lot yesterday, and I can tell you're still thinking about it, Max."

"What are you talking about, Nina? I'm totally fine. Don't worry about it. It was... food poisoning," he fibbed. "I slept it off. I'm okay now."

Doubt crept across her face as she commented, "It didn't look like food poisoning to me."

"Well, it was definitely food poisoning," Max snapped. "You don't need to tell me how I'm supposed to feel about my own life!"

He regretted his tone the moment the words flew out of his mouth.

Nina looked taken aback. She swallowed. "I'm sorry, Max. I didn't mean to overstep."

In the next moment, Nina slid off Max's lap and settled onto the couch beside him. She looked sad and confused and worried. Immediately, he missed the weight of her, the warmth of her, the comforting feeling of having her close to him. His fingers twitched and clenched. He had actively to refrain from pulling her back on top of him.

Max grimaced. "No, no, please don't apologize. I didn't mean to bitch at you like that. I'm an ass. Sorry, Nina. I guess... I'm still not feeling... 100%... right now."

The left corner of her mouth tilted up slightly. "You mean, from the food poisoning?"

"Yeah, the food poisoning," he replied lamely.

Nina glanced at him cautiously. "Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?"

Max paused. "Thanks, but... I think... with this sort of thing... I have to figure it out... on my own."

"You don't have to go through it alone, though, Max," Nina whispered as she reached over to pat his hand. "I'm here."

His heart clenched longingly at her touch.

Why was she still being so good to him?

He didn't fucking deserve it, but, damn, if he didn't crave her kindness with every fiber of his being. She proceeded to lace her fingers through his until they were holding hands. At this point, he didn't have the strength to pull away. He clutched at her small, calloused hand desperately, longingly.

Nina looked to him with a troubled expression. "Hey, Max?"

"Yeah?"

"There's a part of me that feels like... I shouldn't have invited you to that haunted house. Can you at least tell me if I did something wrong? I don't ever want to upset you again."

Max sighed. His head was beginning to hurt. His heart hadn't stopped hurting since last night. "You didn't do anything wrong, Nina. If anything... you're perfect. So fucking perfect. I'm the one who's all fucked up."

Nina raised his hand to her lips and planted a kiss in his palm. She scolded, "Don't you dare say that kinda shit about yourself, Max! And you're blind if you think that I'm anywhere near perfect. We're all fucked up in one way or another. Sometimes, life is supposed to be messy and chaotic and sad. And that's okay. It's what makes us human. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a liar. Or an idiot."

Max didn't say anything back to Nina. For the life of him, he couldn't find the right words to voice his despair, but her chaste peck had sent shockwaves across his system. Her words filled him with a sense of wanting, suffocating him with emotions so powerful that they could no longer be contained. His eyes stung. Every muscle in his body grew so tense that Max felt as though he might shatter.

Like a man possessed, he hauled her back into his arms, back onto his lap, and clung to her like a lifeline. He held onto her for comfort, for sanity, for peace of mind. Nina's arms instantly came around Max to envelop him in a tight embrace.

His cheeks became damp, wet, salty. His shoulders began to shake. Through it all, Nina hugged him, held him, soothed him. "It's gonna be okay, Max. You're gonna be okay."

They sat together like this, perfectly entwined and poignantly connected, for quite some time. Messy, chaotic sadness poured out of Max like a broken dam. He wept like a child into Nina's warmth and sweetness.

She whispered, "You don't have to have it all figured out right now. That's why we're given a lifetime to sort through this shit."

Her words struck a chord. In the middle of his epic breakdown, a realization, as delicate as spider's thread, formed in Max's mind.

He might not be okay at the moment.

He might not be okay tomorrow.

Or a week from now.

But maybe, maybe someday, he would be able to overcome these crazy emotions and thoughts that always brought him down.

This stream of consciousness caught Max completely by surprise, but it gave him hope even while tears continued to fall down his face.