Sloppy Seconds The Tucker Max Leftovers Novelas e Histórias

CHASE The leftover rigatoni was congealing into a sad, reddish clump in its Tupperware container. It was a metaphor for the entire evening. For the entire week, really. “Just put the lid on it,” Sloane said, her voice tight with the kind of irritation that usually preceded a volcanic eruption. “You’re letting the cold air out.” “I’m trying to get the last meatball,” I said, forking it out of the container. “It’s a tragedy of food waste to leave it behind.”

Laura finished her chicken and moved on to dessert, the chocolate mousse, eating it with slow, deliberate pleasure while making little sounds of satisfaction. "Mmm," she hummed. "This is amazing. Are you sure you don't want some, Veronica? Last chance before I finish it all." I closed my eyes, trying to block out the smell, the sound of her eating, and the growing hunger clawing at my insides. Just a few more minutes. I could hold out just a few more minutes. Max's POV: "Come on, come on," I muttered, pacing behind Theo as he sat at one of the security computers, his fingers flying across the keyboard faster than I'd ever seen him type.

Half the class had just seen me standing in the front row of AP Literature with an erection I got from dreaming about the straight quarterback sitting next to me. I was so dead. "I could bet with anything that he had a dirty dream about Sean." That was Max. Of course it was Max. He had this specific tone he only used when he had found something he planned to squeeze for as long as possible. "Got himself worked up and everything." I knew if I let that sit without a response, he would run with it for the rest of the semester. Max Tucker had never needed much of an opening as he would take two seconds of silence and build an entire reputation-destroying narrative out of it.

I held the straw between my teeth. “Not a single one.” We took our time eating, stealing little pecks here and there. They weren’t much, but they satisfied my urge to grab his face as he ate and smother it in little butterfly kisses. I learned that when Tucker was particularly satisfied with his food, he would occasionally sway from side to side and hum a certain smooth jazz song he always played in his car. When Tucker liked something, it stuck with him, be it his taste in wine, music, or food. It was infinitely endearing.

She drops her boots off the coffee table and intercepts Kir before he even makes it to the kitchen island, and grabs one of the bags. Kir drops the rest of the food on the counter. The sound of crinkling paper is loud. The team descends. It’s like watching a pack of feral dogs. Butcher rips the top off a bag and starts tossing foil-wrapped burgers across the island. Max catches two of them with one massive hand. Tariq picks through a carton of fries, rejecting three before finding a sufficiently crispy one. I stay by the front door. Taking a step requires an irritating amount of geometry.

A week after the attack, Savannah mornings smelled like salt, wood, antiseptic, and old leather. Aria's studio sat under a wooden sign: Harbor & Hide Restoration. I worked with a bandage hidden under my sleeve until the tremor in my hands faded. The first time I put my palms on the cutting table, my heart steadied. Leather was not like people. It had grain, temper, and scars. You followed its texture, mended the right place, and stitched slowly. I liked that kind of control.

But the minute she walked into their honeymoon suite, the smell of fries and burgers invaded her senses. ‘Hey babe, I ordered room service.’ Max greeted as he arranged the plates on the coffee table in front of the TV, as they always did when they were still dating and binge-watched one of their shows. ‘I saw you touched none of your food, so I ordered us some burger and fries. I figured nothing could go wrong with that. Oh, and we haven’t seen the last month’s episode of “Almost Human.” There are at least 5 episodes we can watch tonight. Unless you want to watch “Project Runway.”’

When their waitress comes to take their orders, Sophie turns to Max, asking, "So...what should we order?" Max looks thoughtful for a second before answering, "Let's start off with the salmon salad and the beef steak." He pauses for a second, trying to find the best words, then continues, "With the red velvet cake." "You're such a nerd." "Shut up." They end up ordering two plates of tiramisu, four orders of the salmon salad and two pieces of red velvet ice cake. While waiting for their food, they chat about their day and other meaningless stuff. Then Max suggests that they watch a movie.

“Yes she is and no matter where she stays, that would never change.’ “But the house would be so lonely once they leave.” “Am here am I not.” he feigned to be annoyed. “You know what I mean Desmond." she looked sad suddenly “Once they leave we will begin the tour around the world that I promised you.” “Are you retiring?” “Probably, now let's go check on those granddaughters of ours.’ **************** “I would be having Salad, baked potatoes, and steaks. The steaks should be well cooked.” Elena said to the waiter who jotted down her order

Then, she framed me before murdering me as well. She was evil through and through. When her plan fell apart, she resorted to eating in angry silence and muttering curses under her breath. Rufus tried some of the food but stopped after taking a few bites. He questioned with a grimace, "Why does this food taste like foot fungus?" Hilda snapped at him for being picky with his food and said he was free to leave if he didn't like the food. Their relationship had been strained for a long time. They were only barely tolerating each other at this point.