“What are you doing here” I hiss.

It’s two in the morning. Every single house on the street has their lights turned off except for us. And, although I adore attention. I do not adore attention from nosy neighbours and porch cameras.

Max groans, and thuds his envious head of curls against the back of the dumpster.

“Please go away” he says. “I’m trying to sleep”

“SLEEP!?” My mouth drops and a sneer curls my lip.

“What, did mommy and daddy kick you out of the house?”

He shifts on the black plastic and closes his eyes once more, the picture of pure relaxation. He does not give a fuck does he?

I kick the dumpster and it spins forward slightly before I catch it with both hands.

“The only thing stopping me from topping this over and sending you flying onto the curb is the fact that it would wake up my parents.“

He opens one eye, peering up at me from thick lashes and side swept waves. “Thank god they’re asleep then”.

I throw up my hands. The dumpster moves slightly but I catch it with my foot. “You’re insufferable” I laugh, more to myself. “Like, you’re actually crazy”.

Why the fuck is this guy in my dumpster.

“Whatever. You know what?” I nudge my foot and the dumpster tips ever so slightly. “I think watching you fall flat on your ass might be worth my parents sleep.”

“Wait!” He stiffens, hands flying up in defence.

I raise a brow expectantly.

Dragging a hand over his face he sighs, long and hard. I blink at the motion, noticing his large bicep flexing under his t-shirt and then quickly look away.

“My dad kicked me out.”

At that my frustration dips. “He what?”.

“He kicked me out,” he says again, this time slightly louder. I look around to make sure no other lights have turned on and then catch his eyes.

He looks tired. Drawn. And only then do I notice the slight discolouration on his jaw.

I gasp, hands flying to my mouth. Momentarily forgetting my grip on the dumpster. It catches on my foot and I hiss at the pain, automatically retracting it in response.

Max’s eyes widen and one moment he’s sitting on the black plastic bags, a king on his throne, and the next he’s splayed out on the floor.

I would’ve laughed if the sound hadn’t been so fucking loud.

I shake my head and reach down to grab his wrist. He’s glaring at me, brown eyes digging deep into my soul and looking for something to puncture. I paste him a look of my own and we’re both sneering as I drag him into the darkness behind our back gate.

I hear dogs barking and I chance a look over the gate to see a few houses have their lights on, including ours.

“Fucksake.” I whisper. What do we do now. If my parents or the neighbours see us they’ll definitely think we’re up to something romantic.

I whip my face to his in a snarl and jab a pointed finger at his chest.

“Why did you come to my house of all the houses”.

He shrugs but his nonchalant stance is slightly more rigid that usual.

I study him and then school my features. I’m not sure what his dad would do if he found him right now, especially with me.

I rack my brain for an idea and then catch sight of the massive tree in my back garden. Bingo.

I clasp his hand. It’s freezing. How long was he out there?

“Can you climb?” I ask.

He looks at me strangely. “Yes, I can climb”.

“Good!” I say, and all but shove him into the tree. “Get up there kiddo. I’ll be right back”.

“Where are you going?” he hisses.

“I need to make sure my parents don’t think i’ve sneaked out again.”

“Again?” his foot stalls on the tree.

I roll my eyes. “None of your business. Get. Up. There!”

He mumbles something under his breath, thag sounded vaguely like ‘women’ then starts his climb.

I don’t have time to watch him master the full trunk. Turning I tip-toe back to my house as quickly as possible.

I go in the front door and close it gently behind me.

No noise. No lights. That noise didn’t wake them?

I bite my lip and start up the stairs.

Click. The light in the kitchen turns on. And there, standing in all his glory is my father.

I snort and cover my hand with my mouth.

“What are you wearing?” I whisper, cheeks splitting as I take in the satin robe.

He looks down, then back at me. Disapproval and the want to laugh seems to be at war behind his silver eyes and unfortunately for me it seems disapproval wins.

“Sit down.” He points towards the kitchen table and I sigh.