The Writer | #4✓

Epilogue

"Don't let your mashed potatoes fall to the table! Caleb!" My aunt yelled, making Caleb look up from his plate of food before he dropped the spoon filled with the tiny mountain of mashed potatoes he hadn't moved to his mouth. He had been zoning off for a while, and it was starting to piss his mother off since he was playing with his food instead of eating it.

"Sorry," he muttered, and his mother just sighed before turning her attention to her daughter who was on her phone.

"Candice—"

"I'll drop my phone, just give me a second," she said, biting her bottom lip as he clicked on her phone's screen furiously. She was probably playing a game — probably piano tiles. She loved it. I laughed, looking away from them to turn to Maxwell who had been extremely quiet for the past half an hour. It was around eight in the evening, and we had gotten to the Wilson household about two hours ago.

"Nervous?" I asked, and he blinked before turning to me and nodding. I reached out for his hand under the table, squeezing it. We were at my aunt's house and were currently eating dinner with the whole family. Caleb, Wyatt, Ava, Candice, and their parents. Wyatt was the chattiest, talking mostly to his dad, and sometimes he would turn to Ava or Caleb asking them a question or trying to engage them in a conversation. I wasn't sure, but it seemed as if Caleb was not in the mood to do anything, and his mother teased him about wanting to spend more time with Toby than coming home for the holidays.

The cat that belonged to Candice was meowing from the living room area, dotting the chatter on the dining table with its loud cries.

When we had gotten to the Wilsons' family home I had head out to the guest room, which was now technically my bedroom, with Maxwell. There wasn't enough space for our luggage, but we made it work by emptying them out and placing the boxes under the main staircase leading upstairs. For the next half hour that followed we managed to fold clothes into the drawers and place things in a way to manage the space we had. The guest room was smallish.

"So, what does Maxwell do?" Mr. Wilson asked, making me look over at him.

"Music," Maxwell replied plainly, and Caleb's dad smiled before nodding and looking back at his sketchbook.

"You're registering for another writing course next semester, right?" I said only high enough for Maxwell to hear, and he nodded. I smiled, happy that he was being to do what he wanted. Earlier this morning Maxwell's mum had reached out to him again, they talked for a brief period. It seemed very formal, and Maxwell was still hurt by her reaction, but I knew he wanted to give her a chance.

On that day Maxwell came to help me pack up, Oliver had wandered into a room after about ten minutes of sitting outside and crying. He had seemed a bit started to find us inside, but he immediately adjusted his composure and headed to bury himself under the covers on his bed. When Maxwell left I had been tempted to ask Oliver what was wrong, but I already knew he wasn't going to tell me, so I just sighed, grimacing whenever I heard him sob from my end of the room.

I hoped he and Advik sorted things out later. Maybe things would blow over during the holidays.

"Ava, when are you going to bring your boyfriend over?" Caleb's mum asked, looking over at her eldest daughter. Ava sighed, dropping her spoon before covering her face with her hands. It was obvious they' had this conversation at least a hundred times from the way she was reacting.

"I'm not bringing him over, mum," she said, and the two went about to bicker. I heard Maxwell laugh beside me, and I smiled, nudging him to behave. After dinner, we all watched one of Candice's cartoon series before we left the living room one by one. I eventually got up and headed to the guest room with Maxwell. He made a deal off stretching out his hands and throwing himself on the bed before burying his face in the pillow.

"Get up, we still need to take a shower," I said, pinching his thigh as I walked past him on the bed. He groaned, and I laughed before heading to get our towels.

"Here," I said, turning before tossing a green towel to Maxwell. He sat up at that, staring at me square in the face like I'd done something out of the ordinary.

"Together?" he asked, and I found my eyes going wide before my cheeks grew warm. Oh, I hadn't even thought about what I had been doing.

"I mean, if you don't want to—"

"You know I want to, what are you saying?" he asked with a laugh before getting down from the queen-sized bed and jumping out of his shorts and plain green top. Soon he had the towel wrapped around him, and I had mine wrapped around me as well. He was grinning like someone was going to hand him a medal, and all I could do was blush as I followed him to the bathroom that was connected to the guest bedroom.

It was a small place, so as Maxwell went about brushing his teeth I made to run the water in the tub. I got in, and he joined me soon after, and we just stared at each other — sitting on either side of the tub's far end. Him with his cheeky grin, and me with my tomato colored face.

"It's either the water's very hot or you're just really embarrassed," he said, making me groan as I covered my face, causing some of the still water to spill out of the tub.

"Shut up," I said as his laugh continued to ring through the small white tiled bathroom.

"Why?" he asked, and soon I felt him pulling my hands away from my face before pulling my plush against him. I wiggled a bit, trying to find a comfortable position in the bathtub, and my movement caused some water to spill out again.

A groan escaped my lips. "You're cleaning that when we're done," I said, and Maxwell just laughed before hugging me more firmly to himself and nuzzling against me. I soon found myself smiling and enjoying the closeness. I couldn't stay mad at him.

Maxwell meant the world to me. He hadn't been the cutout prince charming type I had imagined when writing in my journal about him, but the real vulnerable goofy him was a hundred times better than what my crush could imagine and put into words.

"If we stay in this tub any longer we'll become real-life human prunes," Maxwell said out of nowhere and I started laughing. We had probably been sitting in the tub for half an hour already after washing up. How does he come up with this rubbish? I wondered, shaking my head, and making my wet hair move with the motion. I feeling the droplets fall to my chest. My eyes moved to Maxwell's pale legs on either side of me, and I used them as an anchor to sit up before lying back again.

God damn, I love Maxwell. I thought with a smile, turning a bit in the bath so that I could reach out to cup his face. I stared at his freckled fair skin and doe brown eyes. His wavy ginger hair looked darker when wet at sticking to his face and neck. I grinned, leaning in to plant a kiss on his lips. I love him so much.