Chapter Three
Lucy
“Don’t forget about me,” I say around the lump in my throat as I hug Sara goodbye.
“Listen, we are both going to make it to the Ballet. We are going to live together, make a name for ourselves, and love every second.” She leans back to look at me. “Positive vibes only. You know this. Manifest the good shit.” She cups my face and uses her thumbs to brush away the treacherous tears that escape.
I laugh. “Yes! Manifest the good shit.” I repeat. I just really hope we both make it. “We’ve worked so hard for this. It’s our time to shine!”
“I’ll ring you later, okay? Behave with that boy of yours.” She winks as she gets into the car. Before closing the door, she turns back to me, “Remember, he’s not really your brother. You deserve to get whatever it is you want.” She smiles softly.
My eyes water as I watch her car disappear up the street. It’s going to be so quiet without her here, but I’m sure Max will make up for it. He is the type of person that you hear enter the room before you see him. In our early teens, we were named the gruesome twosome. All we ever did was joke and mess around, pulling pranks on Tommy and Fallon. We may have aged, but we will always be the runts of the family.
I am surprisingly hangover-free today, making the job of getting the house presentable more bearable. I’m also hoping that keeping myself busy will preoccupy my thoughts from fretting over a certain someone coming over to stay. I need to get thoughts of him out of my head, and keeping myself busy has always been the key to doing just that. Although I can't help but remember how his hands felt on my skin as we danced last night, the tingle still there.
It feels bare in here without all Sara's shit lying around, that girl is a hoarder. Lord help me if we do end up in Paris together, because the dancer’s dorms are minuscule compared to this. I’m going to have to set some ground rules if it comes to it.
It took me a full three hours to finish cleaning. So, when I’m finally done, I decide to jump in the shower and freshen up before Max gets here. I smell of bleach and sweat, not the most appealing scent when the love of your life is coming to stay. That’s at least one job I won’t have to do tonight. He never said what time he was coming, but I’m assuming soon. I sit on the floor under the shower jets, letting the tension melt away down the drain. I can still smell the remnants of alcohol clinging to my wet curls, gross.
After what feels like forever, I get out of the shower and search for my towel. Shit, I must have left it in my bedroom. The number of times poor Sara has had to see my naked bedroom run is far too many to count. I rinse out my hair as best as I can and shake off like a dog. Stamping my feet dry on the bathmat before making a run for my bedroom. At least I know no one will see me this time.
I open the bathroom door and freeze. I’m greeted by a tall figure. One that has his fist raised to knock on the now-empty space. In my shock, I just stand there, not even bothering tocover my modesty. Hands slack at my sides and mouth wide open.
Holy fucking shit.
Max is standing in front of me, eyes blazing as he roams them all over my body. After a moment, I remember the fact that I’m very fucking naked and wrap my arms around myself.
“Max! What the hell are you doing?” I squeal, my voice so high I don’t even recognise it.
“I… I texted you earlier. I assumed you knew I was coming. The front door was unlocked, so I let myself in.” He says, though his eyes haven’t moved away from me.
“Turn around!” I bark out, harsher than I meant it.
“Why are you walking around wet and naked?” He asks, a lilt in his voice like he is trying to hold back the laughter.
“Because I left my towel in my bedroom and thought I was home alone!”
“Wait here, I’ll go grab it for you.” He says as he heads in the wrong direction.
“The other way, dipshit!” I shout, humour coming back into my voice. He awkwardly spins in the other direction, trying to shield his eyes with his hands.
When he comes back with the towel, I’m half hidden behind the door. As soon as he gives it to me, I wrap it around myself tightly and walk towards my room. But Max is still standing, watching me.
“Go and wait in the living room, I’ll be out in five,” I demand before slamming my door shut.
I lean my back against it and slump all the way to the floor, burying my face in my hands, torn between laughing and crying. I can’t believe that just happened.
I go through my after-shower routine at record speed before joining him in the living room. I’m light on my feet as I make my way to the door. He is so deep in thought that he doesn’t register that I’m here. I wait, studying him whilst he doesn’t know I’m watching. Everything about this man is beautiful. The hard lines of his jaw, his dark, messy hair, and the muscles that are visible through his tight white T-shirt. But my favourite thing about him is his eyes, they’re a piercing green that sparkle whenever he sees me. Maybe his looks would mean nothing to me if he were a dick, but he isn’t. He is kind and charming, funny and caring. Basically, Max Jackson is every girl's dream man.
“Hi,” I say timidly, taking a hesitant step into the room.
His head shoots around to look at me before jumping to his feet. “Hi. I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t even think, I just wanted you to know I was here.” He says, his lips lifting into a small smile.
“Don’t worry. It’s my fault for being an exhibitionist.” I say jokingly, which results in him choking on a laugh.
“Well, as they say. It’s always the quiet ones.” He responds.
“Hey, since when am I quiet?” I ask.
