Free Max by C.J. Duggan Page B

Besides, as if Max would even
give a shit if I had a boyfriend or not. As for them teasing me over him, I
would just pretend that never happened. He shouldn’t have been listening in the
first place.
    “Come on, help me deliver these to the bar,” Amy said,
grabbing onto two plates loaded with Parmi, chips and salad.
    “W-what?”
    Two more plates of the same appeared as Heather slid them in
place of the meals that Amy picked up. Amy nodded her head to the two other
plates.
    “These are for the bar, come on.”
    My eyes shifted from the sink to Melba. “B-but I thought I
was doing the dishes …”
    “The dishes can wait, the food can’t,” snapped Melba. “Come
on, move it, move it, move it. What do you think this is, a beauty parlour?”
    I quickly untied my sodden apron and moved to grab the
plates, lifting them with a new dread as I followed Amy out of the kitchen door
toward the last place I wanted to go. Amy pushed the door open with her back,
holding it open for me to go first.
    “No blushing now,” she teased, and I felt instantly sick
with every step that brought me closer to the main bar. Knowing there was not a
chance I wouldn’t—anytime I was near Max I could feel my cheeks flame, it had
been the reaction I had always suffered from around him. Now he would be
looking for it and so would Amy. This was exactly why I wanted to keep away. I
felt like an idiot, an idiotic girl suffering from puppy love. But then I tried
to shake it from my thoughts. Pfft, I had a boyfriend, remember? An amazing
hulk of a boyfriend, so what did it matter if I blushed over Max?
    I lifted my chin with a new air of confidence as I walked
through to the main bar, waiting for Amy to direct me to where the meals were
to be delivered.
    I turned to see a big goofy grin spread across Amy’s face,
but it wasn’t directed at me, it was directed toward a table of boys in the
corner of the bar. One I noticed straight away. Even with his back turned
toward us I could recognise the broadness of his shoulders. His imposing figure—even
when seated—certainly drew your eyes to him and by the expression on Amy’s
face, there was no doubt this was the same boy I had seen with her on the landing
this morning. Sean, I think she said his name was?
    The boy sitting across was the opposite in every way. Sean
was golden with blue eyes, whereas this boy was bronzed, with dark brown eyes,
and in a word, handsome, like old Hollywood-style looks. I tried not to stare
at him as we neared the table. To Sean’s left sat a cute, fairer boy with a shy
smile and kind eyes that were the first to see us approach, I gathered, as he
straightened in his seat and moved his beer out the way, making room for the
plates. I came to stand near the boy to the right side of Sean who reclined in
his chair with an air of careless coolness; it’s amazing how someone’s body
language can give off that ‘I don’t give a shit’ element to their personality.
This boy didn’t move out of the way, the only thing that moved were his eyes—hazel
and filled with many mysteries as they shifted from my plate to my face—staring
with an amused curve to his lips that made my eyes snap away.
    “Parmies, chips and salad: you boys are nothing if utterly
predictable,” mused Amy, who placed one meal in front of Sean, then moved to
sit one in front of the shy, cute boy. I quickly followed suit to place one in
front of the smirking-cocky boy and Mr Hollywood.
    “So you must be Mel?”
    The unexpected question from Sean caused me to flinch and
almost knock over Hollywood’s beer, before he quickly grabbed and rescued it,
offering me a smile.
    “Whoa, almost,” he said, making light of my clumsiness.
    “Sorry.” I blushed, deeper than ever, as I used his
serviette to mop up the slight spillage from his beer.
    “Don’t worry about it,” he said, grabbing the serviette and
taking over from me, “I’ve split way more beer than that in my lifetime.”
    I smiled weakly,