Page 47 of Room Serviced
Max
What movie?
Sloane
It is literally called Ghost. There’s a pottery class, and the ghost erotically hugs a woman from behind while she makes a bowl, I think? I haven’t actually seen it
Max
This is a real movie?
Sloane
Yes! It’s about sexy pottery ghosts!
“That her?” Zach asked, and Max jerked his head up. Zach was watching him, looking mildly entertained, and Max suddenly wondered how long he’d been watching. Also, what did he mean her? Sloane was a her, yes, but not in that tone, and not the way that Zach was using it. They’d hooked up and now they were back in their respective homes and that was all, and absolutely none of that was Zach’s business.
“Her who?” Max asked after the silence had gone on far too long.
“Wow, okay,” said Zach. “So, yeah?”
“It’s just Sloane, asking about the video,” Max said, which wasn’t even a lie. It wasn’t.
“You do know you’re the world’s worst liar.”
“I’m not the worst.”
“I bet you’re close.” There were, what, eight billion people in the world? There was probably someone who sneezed or fainted whenever they lied. Max couldn’t be the worst. “So you did hook up with her.”
Max slid his phone back into his pocket and walked the five feet into the kitchen so he could answer to the fridge instead of Zach’s face. Maybe that would help.
“Just because we went ghost hunting together doesn’t mean we hooked up,” he said, rifling through the fridge and settling on a can of seltzer. “Also, how is that your business?”
Shit, he was being shady as fuck. It wasn’t like Max bragged about the people he slept with, but he also never cared who knew. He opened the can and took the first few sips with the fridge door still open, awash in yellow light and cool air. Zach didn’t say anything until he re-traversed those five feet of floor space back into the living room.
“Sorry,” Zach said, and looked…contrite? Fuck, was he dying? “I was just—sorry. Lauren and Delia were speculating after your Insta stories.”
Max had posted a couple of shots of the hotel and then one of him and Sloane out by the pool. Just some regular, bland vacation shots.
“And then the video is, like—” Zach said, and then waved his hand at the laptop, which was apparently the end of the sentence.
“Like what?” Max sat, then turned the screen toward himself, waking it up.
“Nothing,” Zach said, and Max shot him a look because that was clearly untrue. “Okay, nothing for anyone who hasn’t known you for, like, ten years,” he amended. “You’re flirting a lot—it’s cute. Stop giving me the fucking death stare. Why are you being so weird?”
“I’m not being weird,” Max said, weirdly. Zach made a creaking sound of disbelief. “No, it’s just—I don’t want Sloane to get blindsided or anything, you know? She signed up to go ghost hunting, not have everyone know her business. If there’s something personal like that in here, then I should…” He trailed off, clicking through the video again.
“Dude, I swear, there isn’t,” Zach said, and stood. “Like, maybe your friends will notice, but everyone else is gonna be distracted by the laundry-symbol pentagram. Your secret is safe.”
“It’s not a secret,” Max called after him.
“Yeah?” Zach said, his beer bottle clinking into the recycling. “Hey, does she know you like her?”
“Shut up,” Max said, and Zach fucking cackled.
Max
My lawyer says it’s obvious we hooked up
