✔𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 ➳𝐌𝐚𝐱 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆

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𝐇𝐞𝐫 leg bounces up and down, lip locked between her teeth as she eats at the dry skin. The familiar streets fly past them in the car and Max lazily turns the wheel down the street. They're close and she can feel her throat drying up. His icy eyes are locked on her and he reaches out, squeezing her thigh. He gets her attention and she tries with a smile.

"Turn right up here," she sighs, pointing to the street.

"Relax," Max chuckles, "there's nothing to worry about, I told you I'd take care of this, didn't I?"

She nods. "I know, but Matthew isn't a good person. He might-"

"Don't you trust me?" He laughs, exuding nothing but charm and confidence. She smiles softly, unable not to when he looks at her like that, and the car comes to a stop against the curb.

"Of course I do," she mutters and fixes her pants. "He might ask for more."

"I'll handle it," he grins and reaches out, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "You put on a brave face for me, okay? Do that and nothing's going to go wrong."

"I can do that," she says and takes a deep breath, ridding herself of emotions and readying to pretend. She's can do that, even in the face of someone like Matthew. It wouldn't be the first time anyway.

Max opens up the door and it's the cue for her to get out. She's lost the scared expression, putting on a facade of calm and she takes his hand when he joins her on the sidewalk. She leads the way towards the apartment building. It's nicer than hers, he's able to afford something a little nicer this far out of the city and with his kind of work. Pushing open the door, they walk up the first four flights of stairs and she knocks on the door.

His gaze flicks around the entire place and he takes a step closer to her, his chest flush with her back and he leans down, kissing her cheek. She's the one carrying the money in her bag, he wanted her to have it. It doesn't take long for the door to open. A woman stares at them, jaw smacking as a piece of gum flicks around her mouth, hoop earrings adorn her ears while her whisky hair sits in a messy bun.

She cringes at how little time has passed since she was in the woman's position but doesn't let it show. The blonde glances back into the apartment, calling out, "Matt! Are you expecting anyone!"

The man himself stumbles out of where she knows the living room is. His dirty-blonde hair is slicked back and he's wearing his usual NY college sweatshirt and stained baggy jeans. Noticing her, his face contorts in a grimace of a smile and he laughs as his arms extend.

"Hey, cutie-pie!" He exclaims and the corners of her mouth tug up in the slightest, trying not to show her disgust at the nickname.

"Hi," she replies and sticks out her hand. His eyebrows rise but he takes her hand, shakes it and steps to the side with his eyes flicking briefly to her bag.

"Come on in. Who's your friend?"

"A friend," Max smiles, "nice to meet you."

"You too. What can I do for you two?"

She can't believe how similar the living room looks. Everything is the same, the stained couch, the large sitting chair with the same old burns and scratches in the old fabric. It doesn't look like the coffee table has been wiped down since she was last here. Her eyes find the assortment on the cabinet tucked against the wall, bags of pills standing at the ready, acid sheet laying atop one another and single-gram bags of weed ready to be sold.

Max squeezes her hand, grinning. "She's got your money."

"Sorry," Matthew laughs, "what?"

"Yeah, what was it, honey? 50k, right?"