Chapter 9

It was Quinn's day to do laundry, and she failed.

His eyes rake over me and I feel them as his stare sets on my breasts.

Clearing my throat, I cross my arms trying to cover the rips across the mounds of my breasts.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, lust obvious in my tone. His plump lips slip into a nervous smile. One hand on the doorframe, the other rubbing the back of his neck back and forth.

"We need to talk, and I was hoping Quinn would know where I could reach you." He lifts his head, glances at Quinn, who is smiling like the damn Joker. She's having too much fun with this.

"And lucky him, I knew exactly where to find you!" Quinn beams, her thumb hitched over her shoulder. I glare at her. I want to titty punch her right now. I want someone to record it in one of those slow motion apps so I can rewatch it over and over too.

They both stare at me expectantly, and my body temperature begins to warm.

"Fine," I groan. "You have five minutes."

Walking through the living room I nonchalantly toss a pillow over the tub of ice cream as I walk by. It isn't just any tub of strawberry ice cream. It's one of those giant plastic tubs that no woman should set on her lap and eat with a spoon without supervision.

Entering my room, it's a mess. Very un-lady like in fact. The sheets are pulled halfway off the mattress, and there's clothes everywhere.

I trip over a white sneaker, nearly face planting into the dresser. Proving my point.

"Shit!" I kick the shoe across the room in a fit of anger.

"Well, aren't you a cute ball of anger," he jeers. I look over my shoulder and glare at him. He's not looking at me though, he's observing my room. Tucking a hair behind my ear I look around the room a little embarrassed.

"Wow. I would have never pegged you to be a slob," he shakes his head. His tone of voice sitting wrong, I scrunch my face.

"Why is that?" I ask a little more defensive than I intended.

"You were marrying Jacob, and he's the most organized, put together tool I've met," he explains further.

"You got that right," I mutter under my breath.

Kicking a lace bra under the bed, I shove some underwear under a sheet as Max looks along the top of my dresser. Staring at pictures of Quinn and me before coming upon a picture of a dog. I don't know its name. It's not mine. I saw it at the park and took a picture. What? It was cute.

"Well, I'm anything but perfect, trust me. Besides, Jacob was the organized and mature one in that relationship, not me," I mutter, my brows pinching together and a small headache forms in the back of my head from hearing Jacob's name again. Funny, it used to cause heartache, now it just gives me a damn headache.

Jacob had every day planned out for us. Food picked out for the week. Being spontaneous wasn't even in his vocabulary. I was okay with it because I loved him. I accepted that.

Looking back, him leaving me at the altar was the best thing he ever did for me. Living not knowing where I'm going to wake up, or where I'm going to be two hours from now is amazing. Living in the now instead of the past is what life is really about.

"Nice dog." He picks the frame up, and glances at me. My eyes widen, I know he's going to ask about it. "What's its name?" And... I die a little on the inside.

"Umm... I don't know," I muster a smirk, hoping he drops it there. He looks at me quizzically.

"Where is it?" He looks around the room. Nope, he's not dropping it.

"I... don't know that either," I clip and a confused look crosses his face. I huff not looking forward to explaining this. "I was at the park one day and saw it playing with its owner. His ball was thrown my way and when I picked it up he sat at my feet waiting for me to throw it. So I took a picture," I inform, mortified at how it sounds saying it out loud.

He shakes his head in an offensive manner.

"What?" I cross my arms waiting for what he's about to say.

"It's pathetic. Just go get a dog," he insults, placing the frame back on my dresser. I roll my eyes. It's not like I haven't thought of that, but Quinn doesn't like dogs. Or cats. Or people for that matter.

"Did you come over here to insult my pretend dog or did you have something to say?" My chest puffs up angry. "I think your five minutes are up." I tap my foot anxiously.

"I wanted to know if you gave any thought to what we talked about," his tone is softer.

I look at the floor like it will give me the answer I need.

"I was hoping you were joking."

"Hardly," he bites coldly.

I rub my forehead and sigh. "It won't work, Max." I nibble on the inside of my cheek, verbalizing each thought that strings into my head.

"Yeah, and if it does work? My mom just set me up with a coroner, she was pale. Asked for steak, bloody as hell and watched me eat it like she wanted to eat me!" He steps up to me, his hands slipping up my arm before settling. An electric current bolts between my legs and my mouth parts in reaction.

"I need you, Rae," he whispers. Taking my eyes from his hands I look up under my fallen bangs. His reef blue eyes find mine and I get lost in them. They're so much more than just blue, they take me away and fuck me for days.