Sloppy Seconds The Tucker Max Leftovers Novels & Stories

“Wait—you always eat breakfast, even when we have conditioning.” Max shrugged, grabbing another plate. “Yeah. When I plan to do the bare minimum. I decided to put in effort today.” Zach launched into an enthusiastic recounting of Max’s goalie goal. Ava listened, interested, asking questions while Max kept quietly pushing more vegetarian plates toward Jamie. Jamie leaned in slightly, voice low enough that only Max could hear. “Was it… really okay? With Dane?” Max winked, then popped another bite into his mouth. “Yep.” A mountain of empty plates piled up beside the two hockey players like they were in some unspoken eating competition. Max was clearly winning. Zach had loosened up, though, and

Parker’s had struggled to stay open after the flood and if the people of the town hadn’t been there to support them, they would have closed the doors. I sat down at the counter. Diane was still busy so she didn’t see me yet. “Excuse me, ma’am. Can I have a BLT without the T please?” I heard her laugh. She didn’t even turnaround. “Mayson Cole, I know that is you because no one else orders their sandwich like that. No one could ever get you to eat tomatoes.” I had really missed this place when I was gone. There was no where near college in Arkansas that was like Parker’s. Only one time did I go into a diner and order my sandwich that way and they looked at me Ike I was completely out of my min

I dropped the fries and picked up a fork to eat it. I dipped the fork into the chicken when I noticed it didn't have the same look as mine. "Something is wrong." I said furrowing my brows. "What's wrong?" Jace asked. "This wasn't how I dressed the chicken." I said and he furrowed his brows. "No that's the way. Did you cram the way you designed it?" He asked and I nodded. "Of course I did." I said and they sighed. TBC... What is going on here?? Wahala wa o

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.

"You can and do. But you don't always look like you're going to vomit while doing it." Max stopped in his unpacking, a bunch of frozen broccoli halfway over the counter. "I don't look like I'm about to throw up." "You look just like you did the night you told me of Derek. Which is to say, scared but attempting to cover it below culinary perfection." "I'm not terrified." "Max." "Okay, I'm a little frightened."

There were at least three casseroles, potatoes, vegetables and of course, a good bottle of wine. “Oh yummy! Gimme!” Sophia said when Sandra uncovered one of the casseroles to reveal Sandra’s homemade four-cheese macaroni. “Watch her, James,” Derrick warned. “She gets territorial when it comes to Sandra’s mac and cheese. The rest of us have to fight her for whatever we get.” “I’ll send the leftovers home with you, Sophia,” Sandra soothed. “There won’t be any leftovers after they all get done,” Sophia groused. “I made an extra one for you,” Sandra whispered.

He opened the refrigerator, stared into it for a second, then looked over at me. “What?” “I was thinking we should probably eat something while we wait.” “That sounds suspiciously responsible.” “Don’t tell anybody.” I found leftover pizza and handed him the box. Marcus put a couple slices on plates and shoved them into the microwave while I climbed onto one of the stools at the counter. For a while, we went right back to talking about Jarek’s birthday. We debated whether Max would actually ride all the way to Middletown for the party, whether Lola would convince half the Devil’s Den staff to come with her, and how we were supposed to find out Jarek’s favorite cake without making him suspicio

Dumbo looked awkward walking in it, but he was still willing to brave the acid rain just to see his boss. The two dogs played downstairs while Poppy and Brandon practiced their fighting drills on the rooftop. Poker was addictive. Once they got started, they played for hours and couldn't be bothered to cook. Nicole asked halfheartedly, "I've got some expired instant noodles. Want those?" Marcus had completely lowered his standards. "As long as they don't kill me." "You'll find out after you eat them." She wasn't joking. They really were expired. She had taken them out of the storage space and left them in the villa a year ago.

Carlie and I had dragged him out anyway and he had made his disgruntlement very clear. “I think we can break the rules and change into our casual clothes,” I said. He grinned. “Thank god. I don’t want to show up looking like a chump.” “A chump?” “Yeah, you know—a dork. Dumbass.” “I got it. I’m stuffed. I’m going to put the leftovers away and change. Be ready to go in about an hour.” He snatched another roll and headed upstairs. I stuffed the refrigerator with leftovers, realizing I had ordered way too much, which wasn’t a bad thing by any means. I loved leftovers. We would be in town a few more days and would hopefully eat the rest of it.

Then we head over to California Pizza Kitchen for dinner. "Wanna play 'Never Have I Ever' with the rest of our fries?" Max suggests after we've finished our main courses. "Sure." "Alright, but since it's clear we've both experienced a lot in our lives so far, how about we eat fries only when we've done the statements? It's" – he checks his phone – "eight o'clock now. The one with the most fries left on their plate by nine pays for dinner some other time. Deal?" "More food for me, so yeah, I'm in," Max chuckles, initiating the game.