The Risk of Falling

Chapter Fourteen: Sundays and Sorrows

A/N: Hi everyone! Thanks for patiently waiting for the next chapter. I'm trying to cut back but they seem to be getting longer the more of them I write—argh! But I figured every little detail of Luke and Max's relationship will only help us see what they can't—at least not yet. =)

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My feet got slightly itchy in the colorful ankle socks I always wore to bed so I rubbed them together before swinging them to the side, coming into contact with something hard.

“Ow.”

One eye popped open—well, both if you counted my other one which was mushed up against the pillow with the rest of the left side of my face—and stared at the scrunched up nose millimetres away from me.

Thick locks of dark brown hair filled up that scant space, covering a high forehead and the sharp edges of strong brows. I could see the fan of dark, long lashes on closed eyes, the high cheekbones and lips that were just softening themselves out of a cute, little frown.

Luke may have felt my accidental kick but it wasn’t strong enough to completely wake him up.

I had no idea what time it was—the light was a bright, pale gold inside my apartment and the noise of the traffic from the street below hummed steadily in the background. 

To be honest, the world could be exploding in apocalyptic proportions outside right now but I probably wouldn’t want to move an inch. I wanted to stay still for a moment and just watch Luke as he slept.

Some people weren’t very attractive while sleeping but Luke could almost be some kind of perfume ad in a magazine even as he slept. This life wasn’t fair but in this particular instance, I didn’t mind.

I bit my lip and without moving, studied the complicated man in my bed.

His messy hair looked sexy, his features seemed stark and soft at the same time and the sinewy length of muscles on the arm he’d slung on top of the covers and around me felt masculine and strong. You would think after a few hours out on the wharf, he’d smell, well, fishy, but he smelled clean and distinctly Luke. Yes, we’d spent so much time together last week that I could probably follow his trail to the ends of the earth with my eyes closed and just his scent guiding me.

You are mental. Absolutely mental. You are such a creeper.

Despite the sneering voice in my head, I smiled, because really, what could one do at this point?

Stare and stare some more. Admit it, Max. You’re crushing on your boss/friend/the-wrong-man-for-you.

What was wrong with that, right? 

Absolutely nothing and everything, of course.

A little sigh escaped me and my hand peeked out from under the covers to very lightly nudge the hair that rested over his brow which obscured a small yet fascinating section of his profile.

“You are such a kicker,” Luke suddenly said, lifting his head, stretching his eyes open and grinning crookedly. “God knows how many bruises I’ve got on my shin now.”

“You’ve been pretending to be asleep all this time!” I exclaimed in mortification, shoving at his shoulder lightly. “What the hell?”

He laughed and lunged for me just as I started to drag myself away and into a sitting position.

He caught me by the waist and yanked me back until I was about half-sprawled on top of him.

“Such indignation so early in the morning,” he said, still chuckling. His one arm locked me in place while he rubbed his eye with his other hand. “What time is it, anyway?”