Studying my phone, I sigh. "Max?" When I touch his thigh, he pulls out his right headphone and trains his relaxed eyes on mine.
"Hmm?" He's slumped back in the luxurious plane seat, his thighs spread wide. He's wearing light-grey cotton track pants and a white V-neck. I've never seen him look so normal. Gorgeous and undeniably, uncomfortably hot, but looking like a normal twenty-four-year-old nonetheless.
"Do you use Facebook or Twitter?" I ask.
He smirks. "I don't even have a phone."
My brows shoot up. "Oh my God. What? How do people get hold of you?"
He laughs. "If I can help it, they don't."
"But what about work?"
He shrugs. "I have a pager."
I nod, grinning at him. "Old school."
He chuckles. "Want my pager number?"
"Yes. But that's not why I'm asking." I pause for a moment. "People are kinda... talking about you."
He yawns and starts flicking through music on his iPod. "They're always talking about me."
I cringe a little. "About...us."
He stiffens and slowly turns to face me. "What about us?"
"Aboutme, actually, more than anything." I immediately regret this conversation when his relaxed face is replaced with the irrefutable, tight, and intimidating expression of the Max I know and... well, am obsessed with.
His brows draw in tight. "What about you?"
"Umm... actually, don’t worry."
"Cassidy, goddamn it, what are they saying?"
I hesitantly pass him my phone. "Here. Have a read."
He inhales loudly, his eyes darting around the display, getting narrower and narrower until a vein in his neck bulges. "Fuck's sake," he spits out.
My throat constricts. "I haven't been with any of those guys!"
He turns towards me, his scowl still in place. "Are you serious? You think I don’t know that?"
I recoil in my seat. "Sorry."
"I know everything about your body, what it's done, what it hasn't."
"I know."
"Fuck's sake!" He breathes fast and heavy for a moment and then cracks his neck before turning to seek out my gaze again. His hand lifts to stroke my cheek. "Forget about them." He laughs once. "Your mate Toni has made a comeback in my good books."
I relax on a sigh and smile at him, batting my lashes because flirty and sweet is my default MaxButcher mode. "He'd be happy to hear he's in your good books. Although, when you told him off at the gym, he kinda liked it."
Max hides his laugh behind a wall of feigned disgust. "Not what I want to hear."
Max drives me home in his 4WD that I now know is a Range Rover. It's big and sleek and sexy and so him. He rolls onto the lawn next to my studio. Switching off the headlights, he doesn't move for a moment. Instead he stares straight ahead into the darkness. He grips the steering wheel while his face is tight with contemplation.
"I don’t like this," he mutters without turning his head.
