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'Who do you love? Who do you love?
Who do you love? Who do you love?
Just see your outline...'
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Max Hamilton. What comes to mind when you hear his name? Goofy? Carefree? Immature? Happy...
A/N. : Okay, y'all know the drill. This is unedited and to vote as well as comment. I wrote this while at work and hopefully you enjoy it. Also, this has nothing to do with the story really, but! I found out Max's real name is actually Maxim. Huh, go figure. Anyways, deuces!✌️
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My beauty is being a real bitch right now. Yet, I would never tell her that. She is giving me the cold shoulder and it is absolutely infuriating. She gives me one or three word answers. She will not let me touch her. She avoids eye contact and when she does look me in the eyes I can literally see myself bursting into flames within hers.
I am frustrated as all hell with this woman and our son peeps it too. "Da, what you do to mum now?", he asked propping his head on his little hand while sipping some grape juice through the straw of his juice box. I was making lunch and he was supposed to be helping me. Yet, all he has been doing is snacking and bossing me around. I paused, my hands ceasing movement. Looking at my son who sat across the bar from me I grabbed the cup towel wiping the bit of seasoning residue off of my hands.
"I didn't do anything to your mum", I stated. He hummed much like his mother does when she does not believe something. "What, lil' boy?", I asked. He shrugged his shoulders, "If you didn't do nun'in then why she mad? She only mad when you do sum'in", he accused. I rolled my eyes, "You're truly your mum's son", I deadpan. He sipped from his juice box again as he stared across the bar at me with a look of concentration on his face.
"Jealous?", he retorted. 'Smart arse', I thought cutting my eyes at him. "Go get your mum for lunch before I pop you in the mouth", I told him. He huffed but did as told wordlessly while I stirred the chicken flavored rice that I had mixed in cheese and broccoli into on a burner simmering. I could my beauty talking and since I did not hear a response I summed it up to her being on her cellphone. She had once again not been aware of her call volume. "He ain't shit... Yeah, bu- hell nah!... If he says one more thing to me i'm laying hands on his arse... Nope, post bail on his ass... Fine... Okay, love you. Bye", then she appeared in the entryway to the kitchen.
"Who was that, babe?", I asked turning the burner off. I saw her tongue poking the inside of her left cheek but she did not say anything as she took a seat at the bar in our son's previous seat.
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