Words: 2.5k
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[12:01 AM – Max's Apartment – Bedroom]
Knock knock knock.
Max crept toward the window with the quiet intensity of someone about to commit a felony. Baseball bat in one hand. Kitchen knife in the other. Robe cinched so tight it looked like it owed her rent.
Another knock.
She yanked the curtain aside and slammed the window open, ready to swing for the fences.
"WAIT WAIT WAIT!"
THWACK.
The bat barely missed a face.
Alex flinched, hoodie up, one hand raised in surrender, the other gripping the edge of the windowsill.
"Max! It's me! Your favorite billionaire! Please don't commit murder on your birthday!"
Max blinked. The knife stayed up.
"You're lucky I'm not armed."
"You are armed."
"With a gun!"
Alex rolled his eyes. "I climbed three stories to surprise you, not star in a true crime documentary."
She narrowed her eyes. "How did you even get up here? I live on the third floor. There's no fire escape."
"I know." He grinned.
Max's eyes widened. "Wait… you climbed? With what? Spider privilege?"
Alex held up his hands, as if that explained everything. "Parkour. Also... love. But mostly parkour."
She reached out and yanked him through the window like a boss pulling a late intern into a Monday meeting.
Alex tumbled onto the floor in a heap, hoodie askew, backpack was shockproof, so there wasn't any need to worry about the content inside.
Max slammed the window shut, locked it, and turned to him.
"Are you stupid or just aggressively romantic?"
He stood, brushing dust off his hoodie like nothing happened. "Little from column A, little from column I'm-an-idiot-who-bakes-at-midnight."
She folded her arms. "You brought me a bomb, didn't you?"
"No," he said, unzipping the backpack. "Worse. I brought sugar."
He pulled out a container. Inside, a gorgeous, slightly lopsided chocolate cake sat like it was posing for a dessert magazine shot in a warzone.
He set it carefully on the table and pulled out a candle. Then, with a magician's flair, a bottle of wine.
"Homemade cake. One candle. One bottle of overpriced alcohol I forgot I owned. And yes, I hiked up three floors like a romantic burglar."
Max stared at the cake, then at him. "You baked that?"
"Twice."
"Did you suffer?"
"Oh yeah. The spatula was... sentient."
She tilted her head. "What?"
Alex leaned in. "Don't ask questions you're not emotionally prepared to handle."
She laughed, just once, that low smoky laugh that made him feel like he'd earned something.
"You know," she said, walking over, and she was smiling. "Most people knock on the door with gifts."
"I wanted the element of surprise."
"You almost got a concussion."
"I am kinda nimble and I could have definitely dodged that."
She looked at the cake again, slowly reaching out.
"Did you actually... bake this? No assistants?"
"Swear on my abs."
She touched the hard plastic cover, real frosting, messy swirls. Then pointed at him.
"And the wine?"
"Been in my fridge since 2003."
She blinked.
"It's aged. Like regret."
Max cracked another grin and grabbed two forks from the drawer. She plopped down cross-legged on the floor, robe barely holding it together, and motioned to him.
Alex grabbed the cake container, popped the lid like it was a treasure chest, and set the whole thing on her coffee table-slash-shoe-shelf. Then, very carefully, he jammed the single candle into the center.
He struck a match with one smooth flick and lit the candle. A soft orange glow flickered across his face.
Max stared at the ridiculous setup. Hooded billionaire crouched on her floor. Homemade cake. One lone candle. And a bottle of wine that probably had its own Wikipedia page by now.
She was… confused.
And maybe two degrees away from crying. But like, angry crying. Tough girl tears. The kind you eat with sarcasm and a side of denial.
Alex sat down across from her, crossing his legs like this was a normal Tuesday.
He lifted his hands. "Go on. Blow it out. Make a wish. Unless you already used your one wish on 'don't die via window intruder.'"
Max just stared at the candle. It danced slightly, like it knew secrets.
She hadn't had a real birthday in years.
Correction. She hadn't had a real birthday ever.
Usually, it was her making sarcastic jokes, lighting a match over a stale cupcake, and pretending that Target wine counted as a celebration. (Her private celebration she does alone). Caroline and the diner family always tried to do something. But it was never like this.
Nobody had ever climbed a building for her.
Nobody had baked her a cake from scratch, and possibly, trauma.
Nobody ever made her feel like she was worth a candle.
Her throat tightened.
So she did the only thing she knew how to do when her brain went mush.
Max took a breath.
Not a big one. Just a small, almost imperceptible breath.
She leaned forward, staring at that dumb little candle glowing on top of her chaos cake. Her brain was buzzing, but her chest felt quiet. Still. Almost... soft.
Her lips parted.
No one heard the wish.
Not even Alex.
Let him be okay.
Let him stay okay.
Let him keep smiling like that without burning out or breaking in secret.
Let him be happy… even if he doesn't know how to say the word out loud.
Then... pfft.
She blew out the candle.
No speech. No dramatic pause. Just the flick of breath and the faint curl of smoke.
Alex smiled. "That looked like a dangerous wish."
Max rolled her eyes. "It wasn't. I wished for more forks."
She then grabbed the big knife that she had taken out earlier for self-defense.
Alex leaned back slightly. "Please don't stab me. That cake took two emotional breakdowns and a cursed spatula to make."
Max held the knife like a scalpel, cutting into the cake with surgical precision. "Relax. If I stab you, it won't be over cake. It'll be over taxes or emotional repression."
She cut a slice as Alex softly clapped, wishing her Happy Birthday.
Max carved the slice clean, lifted it with the knife like a queen serving judgment, and held it out toward Alex with mock ceremony.
"Here," she said. "Cake for the dumbass who climbed a building without dying. Eat it before I change my mind."
Alex reached for it, only to have Max yank it back.
"Uh-uh," she said. "You forgot the ritual."
He raised an eyebrow. "Ritual?"
She leaned forward, dead serious. "The Birthday Offering Ritual. You make the cake. You climb the wall. So..." She held the cake between their lips and smiled.
Alex leaned in, lips inches from the cake, and matched her smirk with one of his own.
"Alright," he murmured, "synchronized bite. But if this turns into a trust exercise, I want you to know I still don't trust you near electrical outlets."
"Shut up and bite, billionaire."
They both leaned in.
Teeth sank in at the same time. The cake was rich and ridiculously good.
Then Max laughed mid-chew, bumping into his face. Her nose smudged chocolate against his cheek. His frosting hit her lip.
"Oops," she said, mouth full, already grinning.
Alex tried to back up, but she moved first, smearing her thumb across his frosting-marked cheek like a mischievous raccoon.
Alex blinked at the frosting on his cheek.
"You just raccooned me," he said.
Max smirked. "Consider it payback for almost dying via surprise window man."
He wiped his face with the back of his hand, then very deliberately grabbed a chunk of frosting from the side of the cake. Max saw it coming a full second before it happened.
"Don't...!"
Too late.
Alex smeared the chocolate across her cheek with slow, dramatic flair.
"Oops," he said, with zero actual remorse.
She stared at him, stunned. Frosting on her face. Knife still in hand.
"You started a frosting war. Inside my apartment. On my birthday."
"Technically, I escalated it. You started it when you fake-shared the cake."
She dropped the knife, calmly wiped frosting off her cheek with two fingers, and then, without warning, smeared it across his nose and down his neck like she was finger painting with vengeance.
"Oh, it's on now," she said.
He lunged forward, catching her wrist, but she twisted like a greased cat and popped him in the face with a fistful of chocolate icing.
"You little goblin..."
Alex lunged again. She dodged, laughing, but he caught her by the waist and spun her around, cake forgotten, world narrowed down to sugar and war cries.
Max shoved a palmful of frosting right into his mouth mid-spin. "How's that taste, corporate boy?"
Alex mumbled through the cake, "Tasty."
They were laughing, both half-covered in chocolate, Max's robe slipping off one shoulder, his hoodie riding up. Her hair was wild, and his face was a sugar crime scene. Her left boob was completely visible and so was her tummy and a little bit of upper pubes.
And then...
They paused.
Breathing heavily. Inches apart. Frosting in their hair. Max with a smear of chocolate across her collarbone. Alex with frosting on his lip.
They locked eyes. Something shifted.
Max looked down at his mouth.
Then leaned in.
Slow. Deliberate. Still grinning like a criminal.
She licked the frosting off his bottom lip.
Alex froze.
Then exhaled a quiet, stunned, "Damn."
She kissed him right after that. No warning, no hesitation. Soft but messy, sugar-sweet and low-burn electric.
He responded instantly, one hand in her hair, the other gripping her hip like he'd been holding back since the dawn of time. They tasted like cake and laughter and... Love.
The kiss wasn't aggressive or anything, but gentle and sweet, and it lasted for twenty to thirty seconds.
When they pulled apart, Max rested her forehead against his, still catching her breath.
"You're lucky I like frosting," she whispered.
"You're lucky I like danger," he whispered back.
Then she shoved him playfully and stood up. "Alright, stop being hot for a second and maybe pop the wine?"
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, dazed. "Uh... yeah."
Alex fumbled in the backpack, pulling out a bottle of dark red wine like a magician unveiling a rabbit. Then, because clearly, he had thought of everything, he reached in again and pulled out two plastic red Solo cups.
Max cackled.
"Hahaha. You brought an expensive bottle of wine and two frat party cups? I love you so much."
Alex shrugged, already uncorking the bottle with the casual ease of someone who had definitely opened wine while dangling off a windowsill before.
"Plastic is safer during frosting combat. Don't question the genius."
He poured them both a generous glass and handed her one. They clinked cups.
"To your birthday," he said. "May it never be this normal again."
She took a sip. Then raised an eyebrow.
"Tastes like expensive guilt."
He nodded. "Aged in barrels of good decisions."
They toasted again. And again. Until the bottle was half gone and the frosting war was just a sugar-slick memory.
Max leaned back on her elbows, toes curled under the edge of the rug, cup half full, robe loose, hair wild.
"You know what?" she said, her voice quieter now.
Alex looked over at her.
"This might be the dumbest, messiest birthday I've ever had."
He waited.
She turned to him, smiling that small, rare smile that only showed up when she let her guard down around him.
"And maybe my favorite."
He bumped her cup gently.
"Happy birthday, Max."
She bumped back.
"Thanks for climbing the building."
He grinned. "Thanks for not killing me."
They sat in silence for a moment.
Then Max reached over, grabbed another forkful of cake, and fed it to him with all the grace of someone feeding a raccoon in a hoodie.
[Some times later...]
Max pushed herself to her feet.
"Alright," she said, stretching with a groan. "Time to clean up.
But before she could take a single step, Alex reached out from where he was still half-reclining on the floor, his palm landing squarely on her hip.
"Nope," he said, tugging lightly.
Max glanced down, one eyebrow arched. "Are you trying to floor-seduce me with choco breath and Solo cups?"
Alex tugged a little more, pulling her closer. "I climbed a building. I brought you cake. I earned one human cuddle."
"I don't cuddle," she deadpanned, but she wasn't resisting either.
"Oh, you do now."
With one smooth tug, Max stumbled right onto him with a surprised "Hey...!"
Her knees hit the floor on either side of his waist. One hand braced on his chest. The other still holding her wine cup like a true professional.
Her robe slipped.
Alex's hands were already at her hips, but his eyes suddenly shifted, catching the slow drop of fabric.
Max followed his gaze.
The robe had slid off both shoulders and was now hanging loosely at her elbows. Her entire chest was bare, big boobs and nipples perked like they were in on a joke he hadn't been told. The curve of her waist, the line of her belly... Her little pubes... every inch kissed by the soft apartment light and a few streaks of forgotten frosting.
Alex froze. Breath stuck. Pupils slightly dilated. Hands still on her hips, but now doing absolutely nothing productive.
Max blinked.
"Seen it before," she said casually, swirling her wine.
"Yeah," he whispered. "Still... kinda forgot how rude your body is."
She smirked, leaning in a bit. "Rude?"
"Disrespectful," he clarified, lips quirking. "Every curve just walking around here like laws don't apply."
"Oh, and you're the sheriff of modesty now?"
He nodded solemnly. "Yes. And ma'am, I'm going to need you to cover up before this turns into a deeply illegal situation involving frosting and licking."
Max set her cup down on the floor, then slowly rolled her shoulders, letting the robe slip fully off and pool at her waist.
Alex made a strangled sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a hiccup.
Max tilted her head. "You okay there, Moneybags?"
He blinked. "I'm fine. I'm good. Totally... good."
"You're blinking a lot."
"I'm recalibrating."
"To what?"
"Reality. Where gravity exists and I'm not hallucinating the sexiest birthday nymph on Earth sitting naked on me."
She grinned, brushing her hair out of her face and sitting back a little straighter, fully straddling his waist now, every inch of her bare skin pressed to him like a test of his spiritual discipline.
"Well," she said, mock-innocent, "it is my birthday."
He nodded, eyes still glued to hers... barely. "I support this birthday."
She reached down, poking his chest. "And... Are you gonna do something naughty to me?" She reached for the little leftover cake, took a little cream, and covered her nipples with it. "Maybe punish me for almost hitting you?"
....
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[6 advance chs] + [14 chs of Two and a Half Men: Waking up as Charlie Harper] [All chs available for all tiers]
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