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glances over at him. They’re at Max's house, in his room, this
time, and they’re all alone.
    “Not often,” Max replies. “My mom works
nights a lot, and my dad goes out of town on business. So actually, I guess
they’re home, just not when I’m home.”
    Theo nods.
    “But hey,” Max says, smiling suggestively.
“More privacy.”
    Theo can’t help but quirk a small smile,
but still glances away. He still feels really shy around Max a lot, especially
when he talks like that.
    “What about your folks?” Max says, making
his way over to the bed, where Theo is sitting.
    He came over here after school, and for
the past twenty minutes or so, he’s been awkwardly sitting in the same spot,
cross-legged, on Max's bed. Somehow, he didn’t expect to see Max's room; last
time he was here, they didn’t even leave the living room, and this feels much
more… personal , somehow. Although, he doubts that Max sees it that way.
    He’s not sure what he expected Max's room
to look like, but it seems to fit him perfectly. The walls, one of them
slanted, are plastered with posters, ranging from bands like Korn, Marilyn
Manson and Seether, to movie posters with prints from A Clockwork Orange,
Underworld and Queen of the Damned, and Theo just sits there, taking
it in. He likes this room, he decides. It’s messy and cluttered, but Max's
personality seems to be written all over it. Even the music playing in the
background sounds like him; it’s not really Theo’s style, but he doesn’t mind.
    And the room smells like him. Theo tries
not to think about that.
    Max sits down in front of Theo, who’s
sitting practically in the middle of the bed, which is placed practically in
the middle of the room, its headboard against the wall below the room’s only
window. He crosses his legs, mirroring Theo, and Theo looks back at him and
meets his eye.
    “They’re pretty ordinary,” he says, in
response to Max's question. “My dad’s a mechanic, and my mom’s a grade school
teacher. And if they’re not home, there’s always my little brother.”
    Max frowns the slightest bit, as though in
a question, and Theo explains.
    “His name’s Riley,” he says, and he knows
that the affection for his brother is clear in his voice. It seems that he will
never grow out of that. “He’s fourteen. Kind of a genius. You two would get
along, I think.”
    He adds that last part a bit jokingly, and
Max actually smiles. And again, Theo is struck by how Max's expressions have
slowly started going from smirks to smiles, softer and more genuine. Or maybe
he’s just imagining it. Max seems to notice, though, and when he does, he
quickly tries to stop smiling like that, as though it feels uncomfortable and
unfamiliar on his face.
    “I’ll have to meet him, sometime,” he
says, glancing away for a moment, before looking back at Theo. “So, I’m
guessing there’s not much privacy at your house?”
    Theo cocks his head.
    “Not really.”
    Max nods slowly, and then, for several
seconds, he just stares. He just stares at Theo, an unreadable expression in
those dark blue eyes, and Theo can’t help but stare back, shifting slightly in
his seat. And then, suddenly, Max blinks, as though coming out of some deep
thought, and he clears his throat.
    “Sorry,” he says, in that typical tone of I’m
not really sorry at all that he seems to use a lot. “I know I shouldn’t.”
    Theo frowns.
    “Shouldn’t what?” he asks, honestly
confused, and Max exhales slowly, a small smirk on his face. He licks his lips.
    “I’m exercising a lot of restraint, here,”
he says. “I just want to kiss you, and I know I shouldn’t.”
    Theo swallows nervously.
    “Well, you can,” he says with some
hesitation, but Max shakes his head a bit.
    “No, you don’t understand,” he says, an
oddly hungry, slightly amused look on his face. “I want to kiss you, but I also
want to pin you down and rip your clothes off. And I think that crosses the
boundaries we’ve