If you have not read pt. 1, I'd recommend it. It is much shorter, and the first couple chapters will not be as interchangeable as the rest. If not, here's a recap:
Max moved into is new place with his cousin.
Feel free to reach out with comments or messages: like Max, I'm very responsive to feedback.
**********
Max Wright came from a well-to-do family. Father's name was on the front of a major law firm; Mother ran a high society non-profit that could put together a gala within hours of a national disaster. They were exactly what you'd imagine finding on the centerfold of Old Money magazine. They were also a bit dysfunctional, distant, and stiffly formal. Mr. and Mrs. Wright were rarely affectionate around one another, and the household staff often joked (with the Wrights absent) that the pregnancy must've been some kind of Three-Stooge-esque accident. Enter, young Maximillian. One day, years ago, Max's mother walked in on him with a picture. Being the rational, warm mother she was, she shrieked, ran from the room, and called a priest. Now, many priests would've kept a bit of a sense of humor or perspective about the gravity of the situation. Many priests would've recognized that he was barging into a pivotal moment in someone else's life. Many priests would have just given him a short, gentle word of rebuke. But the Father in question was more of a fire-and-brimstone man. He paid the Wright home a visit that lasted several traumatic hours. A healthy belief that sexual attractions were a filthy, humiliating thing took hold.
Somehow, someone in his class heard about the incident, and the following week became the undisputed worst of his life. Humiliated, he found himself a social pariah overnight. He never spoke to the girl again.
Very slowly, his social stigma faded. But he developed an inability to talk to girls, especially ones he liked, that did not. He grew into a nice-looking boy, but his painful awkwardness was not well received by the girls with whom he went to school. In high school, he was quiet but well-liked among his friends. He was a fairly normal kid, bright and well-intentioned. However, despite many friends' best efforts, he dated infrequently and quite unsuccessfully up to college.
*********
After several moments of paralysis, he pulled himself out of horrible memory lane with a start. His eyes trained on the stilling fabric of the curtain. He raced to the window and peeked through, but the bedroom was empty now.
Had she seen?
How could she not? The windows took half the wall.
Surely if she had she would've stopped and yelled, or at least stared awhile.
Who notices someone peeking and then just goes about their business?
Well what was she supposed to do? Come bang on the door that led to his room from outside?
He could hear the water running all the way from her bathroom when the door was open... how could she not have heard the curtain's bar banging on the window?
Who the hell insulated this place? Two bedrooms in separate houses, 3 feet apart with giant windows taking up half the wall? They'd literally hear each other coughing.
Maybe all she heard was tapping, who's to say her curtain didn't obscure it?
He peeked cautiously past his curtain and found her room empty, the door to the bathroom shut now. He rocked his curtain and stared at the mirror she'd stood before moments ago. The motion caused it to spring into vivid clarity through the wood strips of her blind. Dread gripped him. He put his back to the wall and slid down until he was sitting, his hands in his hair.
How could she have missed that?
He spent the next three days creeping anxiously around his own home, trying to avoid his neighbor. In the mornings, he'd peek around outside then make a break for his vehicle. In the afternoons, he had to come in blind and make a mad dash for the door, fumbling his keys into the lock before disappearing inside until it was time to repeat the ridiculous process again in the morning. The day his cousin and roommate Jacob asked for help with groceries was particularly nerve-racking.
He didn't have much of an end game in mind, he'd have to run into her eventually. But maybe he could just delay it for a year or two. After all, people do move from time to time.
The fourth day, his luck ran out, and she pulled onto their block right after him. Misery swallowed him whole. He considered driving straight and pretending later it wasn't him, but it was too late. He pulled into the drive and stepped uncertainly from his truck when she called out, "Max come give me a hand, would you?"
His manners appeared, "Sure thing, Mrs. Melissa."
And several minutes passed of quiet bustle as they carted her bags in. She seemed relaxed as ever, and he found himself perking up. He dropped the last brown bag on her counter. The more he thought about it, the more cautiously optimistic he became that he might have lucked out.
This was the moment she chose to ask, "Max, what's the matter sweetie?" Her clear brown eyes bore into him with concern as ice shot back through his veins, "You've been avoiding me."
A moment stretched between them.
She paused, "Do you...not like having a grown up neighbor?"
Shocked that she would think this, Max spat out, "What- no, of course not. I mean- I don't mean 'no' as in no. I..." Max trailed off his stumbling explanation and finished, "...I like you a lot, Mrs. Melissa."
Max thought that might've been too strong of a statement, but she smiled warmly at his praise.
She said, "well good. Although I'm sure you'd've preferred some cute little girl who'd flirt with you every chance she got."
