No strings attached (yeah, right.)

Max was sitting on her bed, scribbling on some crumpled-up paper—again. The pen was flying in her hand like it had a mind of its own, but she was trying to ignore it. She didn’t even know why she was doing it. It was just... dumb.

She scowled at the paper, her handwriting all over the place, sharp and messy, just like her.

But there it was. The name. Her name. Max Black. And then...

Caroline Channing.

Her hand froze.

She stared at it for a second too long. What the hell? Why the hell had she written that? She didn’t even like the idea. Or did she?

Her stomach churned, and she crumpled the paper up, hurling it at the trash can like she was trying to kill her own feelings. Max didn’t do this. She didn’t write dumb crap like that. She didn’t fantasize about... that. Disgusting.

But that was the thing. Caroline was always around. Always in her space, in her head, in a way that Max couldn’t quite shake off. She’d even caught herself, on more than one occasion, imagining what it would be like to be more than just roommates. And she hated herself for it. Hated it.

Max let out a dry laugh, falling back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Jesus, Max, you’ve lost it,” she muttered to herself. “You’re writing her damn name down like you’re planning a wedding or something.”

But it didn’t stop there. Oh no, it got worse. She could feel it—this stupid warmth creeping up her neck. She was feeling something, but she didn’t know what the hell it was. It wasn’t like her to want to feel things, especially not with Caroline.

Caroline was Caroline, all sunshine and optimism, and Max? Max was a disaster. So why the hell would she want to complicate things by getting all... soft? She’d seen how quickly things could fall apart when people let down their walls. And Max had enough experience with people screwing her over to know better than to let anyone get too close.

And yet—

Max sat up, running a hand through her hair. This was ridiculous. She was ridiculous.

She reached for the pen again, but stopped herself. No. She wasn’t going down this road. Not tonight. Especially not tonight. Max grabbed the crumpled paper, shoving it deep into the trash can, as if it could somehow erase the thoughts she was having. But even as she did that, part of her knew it wasn’t enough.

That name. Caroline Channing.

Max squeezed her eyes shut. She was so screwed.

"Okay, okay," Max muttered to herself, trying to snap out of it. "Just... get it together, Black. You're fine. You’re just writing things down because you’re a damn weirdo. That’s all. Just... breathe. Whatever."

She lay back again, staring at the ceiling like it had answers. But there were no answers. Just the same stupid thoughts, the same stupid what-ifs. What if things were different? What if she was different?

What if Caroline was different?

Max groaned, turning on her side, trying to will herself to sleep. She wasn’t going to think about it. She couldn’t. This was Caroline we were talking about. Her best friend. She couldn’t go there. Not now. Not ever.

But deep down, Max wasn’t so sure anymore.

She just hoped Caroline wouldn’t find the crumpled-up paper in the trash. Because if she did? Well, Max wasn’t sure she’d survive the humiliation.

Max flopped back down onto the bed, arms splayed out like she was giving up on life. She stared up at the ceiling, but instead of seeing the same old cracked paint and worn-out light fixture, she saw Caroline’s face.

Caroline.

Of course, she did. Max couldn't stop thinking about her. It was like Caroline had taken up permanent residence in her brain, and Max was starting to wonder if she'd ever get a damn eviction notice.

“Ugh, she's probably curled up in her stupid pink vagina bed, sleeping like a damn princess,” Max muttered under her breath, her voice dripping with disgust, even though she knew she'd never admit it aloud. "In that stupid bed, in that stupid position—"

Max cut herself off, groaning into her pillow. What was she even saying? This was ridiculous. She had better things to do than think about Caroline, especially not in a pink vagina bed.

But still... Max couldn’t help it. Caroline in that bed, all tucked up in her cozy little corner of their shitty apartment, looking like she had everything together. Caroline’s stupid optimism, the way she smiled at her like she hadn’t ruined her life a million times over, was starting to get to Max in ways that felt... wrong.

Max pulled the pillow over her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Stop thinking about it, Max, she ordered herself. You’re fine. Everything’s fine. Nothing to see here.

But the more she thought about Caroline in that damn bed, the more it nagged at her. Caroline was like some glowing beacon of everything Max wasn’t, and it made her want to scream. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t... right.

A small voice in her head whispered, Maybe it’s not so bad to let someone in.

Max shoved the voice aside with a mental eye-roll. She didn’t do letting people in. That was for suckers.

And yet... Caroline. Always Caroline.

"She's too good for me," Max muttered into the pillow, her voice muffled. "Way too good for me."

But the words felt hollow, even to her own ears. Because somewhere deep inside, she knew she didn’t believe it.

Max rolled over, grabbing her phone and checking the time. It was late. Too late for any of this crap. Still, she couldn't help but wonder if Caroline was still awake, tossing and turning in that pink bed, thinking about her.

Probably not. Caroline had a whole different world in her head, one that didn’t revolve around Max Black’s issues. And that was the way Max liked it.

Right?

But somehow, even as she stared at her phone, waiting for some miracle distraction to keep her from thinking too much, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was... off.

Something she couldn’t control.

Max huffed, throwing her phone aside, and glared at the ceiling. "God, what is it about you, Caroline Channing?"

And there, in the stillness of her room, Max knew she didn’t have an answer.

So, she did what any rational person would do.

She texted Caroline.

Even though they were literally a room apart, and even though Max knew that it was the most idiotic thing she could possibly do. But her thumb hovered over the screen, like it had a mind of its own, and before she could talk herself out of it, her fingers were typing.

Max:
you asleep, princess?

Max immediately regretted it. Of course Caroline was asleep. Caroline was always asleep, wrapped up in that pink bed like she was living in some weird fairy tale, and Max was just... the uninvited, cynical guest at the party.

But once the text was sent, she couldn’t take it back. She sighed, flopping back onto the bed like a fish out of water. She could feel her face heating up, even though she knew Caroline would probably never see the text. It was stupid. So stupid.

But then—

Ding.

Max sat up so fast, she nearly knocked the lamp off her nightstand.

Caroline:
No, just thinking about the weirdest thing. What’s up?

Max blinked at the message, her brain trying to catch up. She didn't know if she was more surprised that Caroline had actually responded, or that Caroline was clearly awake, even though it was, like, three in the morning.

Max ran a hand through her hair. She was so screwed.

Max:
Nothing. Just wondering if ur in bed

Caroline:
Of course I’m in bed. Where else would I be?

Max snorted, rolling her eyes. This was classic Caroline. Always so... pure. So straightforward. She could be texting someone in the middle of a storm, and still sound like she was on a breezy beach vacation.

Max:
Idk. Thought you might be out partying, slaying the world or whatever

She immediately regretted that too, but the message was sent, and it was too late. It felt like she had to keep this up now. Like she had to keep pretending she wasn’t spiraling, pretending that none of this bothered her. But it did. It really did.

And Max wasn’t sure if it was worse that she was texting Caroline at this hour, or that Caroline made her feel like she was being watched. Like every little thing Max did was somehow... noticed.

She waited. Maybe this was dumb, Max thought. Maybe I should go to sleep. Get over this. Stop texting like some lovesick idiot.

Then—

Caroline:
Nope, just here, alone with my thoughts. They're kind of... max-y, if you know what I mean

Max’s stomach did a weird flip at that. Her name. Why did it make her heart race?

Max:
oh? please tell me about my thoughts. I’m dying to know how weird you think I am

Max bit her lip after hitting send, already regretting opening that door.

A few seconds later, the text came in.

Caroline:
You’re not weird, Max. You’re… complicated.

Max stared at the screen for a solid minute, reading the words over and over. Complicated. She felt something shift in her chest, like she’d just been punched in the gut, but it was the good kind of punch—if that even made sense.

Max:
Ugh. Who even says stuff like that?

She was trying to brush it off. Trying to make it seem like Caroline was just being... Caroline. But inside, everything felt too heavy, like something was being pulled apart.

Caroline:
Someone who’s trying to be your friend and not freak you out. But it’s okay, you’re safe. Promise.

Max stared at her phone. Safe. God, Caroline had no idea how dangerous being close to her felt.

She thought about the crumpled paper in the trash. The stupid name she couldn’t stop writing. Max closed her eyes for a second.

She had no idea what to do with any of this.