The second Max shuts the door to the den, the awkwardness sets in. The last time we were alone, we were making out, and we hadn't spoken since. "So." My voice sound so weird in this eerie silence that my voice cracks. I try again. "So." "So," Max says. "Shall we?" I squint at him. Wether we "shall" or not depends on what we'll be doing. He senses my questioning. "I mean, 'shall' we get back to our doings?" I yawn as obviously as I can manage, very irritated now. Does he only want me for making out? "I'm tired," I say. "I think I'll hit the sack." I honestly am tired, even though I'm playing it up. I flop onto the bed and roll off to the side further than I need to so there's room for Max and SPACE between us. Max gives me his little-boy puppy dog eyes and slumps down as close to the edge as he can. I'm surprised he doesn't fall off. But even if he did, at the moment, I'm not sure I would care.
"I don't get you, Emily," he says finally. I sit up in surprise. "What do you mean?" "I mean, one minute, you're kissing me and telling me you love me, and the next you're shutting me out with all your might." I think this over. He's right. But I have a reason for my doing of these things. "It's not my fault you only want my body and not the real me!" I snap, surprising myself. I'm not usually like this. Usually, I have a lot of patience. As of late, I've been short-tempered and - well, cruel! "Don't talk to me like that!" Max snaps back. "I'll talk to you however I please," I say coolly. Max glares at me. "I believe you need to be reminded, Emily, that this is my house, and I may kick you out anytime I'd like." I'm very taken aback at this. He wouldn't force me to live in the streets, would he? I remind myself that it was rare and lucky to find Max. Without him, I would be living in the streets. "I don't know, Max," I say doubtfully. "About what?" he looks concerned, and is it me, or do I see guilt in his eyes? "I don't know about what." I look away and fall immediately asleep.