Stop Standing There

I heard a knock on my door and I sighed. I lifted my eyes from my book to the door, debating whether or not to answer.

"What?" I finally stated harshly.

"Sare, can we talk?"

I closed my eyes before getting off of my bed and setting down my book. I walked over to my bedroom door and swung it open, raising my eyebrows at my cousin.

She stared back at me and I could tell she was frustrated. "I'm sorry," she finally said.

My eyes widened in disbelief and I scoffed. I put my hand on my hip. "Do you know what you're sorry for?"

Skylar sighed and ran a hand through her hair in annoyance. "For arguing with you."

I shook my head. "Whatever." I began to close the door when she spoke up.

"At least your mom didn't leave."

I felt something hit my gut and I instantly felt bad. I began to re-open the door, my face softened, but was interrupted when my cousin held up her hand, shaking her head.

"Save it."

The harshness of her tone made me feel even worse, and as her door slammed down the hall, I knew it was me who had to apologize now. But I didn't want to. She had been the one to say what she had to me before...

Pride was such an awful thing.

I needed to get out. And so I did the only thing I knew to do - I picked up my phone and dialed a now-familiar number.

***

"Max, I really appreciate this."

I called out to the Frenchman in the kitchen from my spot on his couch. He had immediately offered for me to come over when I had called, and although I hadn't explained the full situation, he understood. He hadn't asked, and for that I was grateful - even though I knew it wasn't fair to him that I wasn't telling him what was going on. Our lunch the other day hadn't ended well, and I knew he deserved an explanation or at least an apology.

Max was in the kitchen, on the phone with Chris. He had told me to make myself at home. The house wasn't dirty, but it wasn't overly clean, either. Not that I had expected more.

I stood up and headed over to glance at the wall, where the two men had hung up some pictures of their families. I smiled as my eyes found one of Max in his teens, holding up a giant fish and standing next to who I assumed was his father. I continued looking at the photos, moving down the hallway.

"Bonjour."

I nearly jumped out of my skin as I felt Max speak into my ear. I hadn't heard him coming. I whirled around and my shoulder caught one of the picture frames, knocking it off it's hook. Before I knew what was happening, I was pinned against the wall, Max's hand on the wall by the right side of my head. His other hand was clutching the bottom of the picture frame, where my hand was too, and his fingers were curled around mine. His eyes left mine for a few seconds as I released my hand from the picture frame, and he lifted it up to put it back on it's hook. My breathing was shallow, and my heart was running laps inside my chest. My eyes never left Max's face. I let them wander over his dark brown hair that was messed up like he had just ran his fingers through it, his brown eyes framed by thick lashes, the outline of his nose, down to his lips, where my gaze rested until I felt him looking at me, and my eyes flew up to meet his. He removed his hand from beside my head, and I felt my shoulders sag against the wall.

"Do I scare you?"

My mouth fell open slightly and I stared up at him. His eyebrows were knitted together concernedly, and I realized he wasn't asking to be conceited. He seemed puzzled by the idea.

"Kinda," came my quiet, whispered reply.

Max surprised me by letting a smile fall onto his face again. "I don't understand why?"

"Me neither," I admitted. He raised an eyebrow, and I couldn't help but let out a nervous giggle. I looked down, only to have my chin brought back up by Max's thumb and index finger.

"I don't mean to." His eyes searched mine and I could hardly breathe. Did he know what he was making me feel?

I gave him a tiny smile, and he stepped away from me, crossing his arms. He seemed to be analyzing my face, and I bit my lip. "I'm sorry, Max," was all that I could think to say.

It was Max's turn to laugh. "What for?"

I shrugged. "For... For how our date ended the other night."

"It's okay," Max replied. His grin widened as he added, "Ah, so it was a date, hm?"

I felt my cheeks redden. "Well, um, I-"

Max's smile grew even wider - if that was possible - before he turned to head back into the living room.