Chapter 14

Max's POV

"Priscilla, please try to calm down," I murmured, my voice filled with concern. I reached out to her, gently pulling her out of my embrace, and locked eyes with her. The tears streaming down her face began to subside as she looked at me, searching for solace.

"Don't cry, Priscilla. I am here with you, and I promise that nothing will harm you," I reassured her, my voice unwavering. She gazed at me with a teary eye, and I delicately wiped away the remnants of her sorrow.

Her voice trembled with anguish and vulnerability as she spoke, "I'm scared..." The sight of her in such distress tugged at my heartstrings, causing a deep ache within me.

"Priscilla, there is no need to be afraid. I am right here by your side, and I will not leave you," I declared, continuing to wipe away her tears, offering her comfort in any way I could.

"Please, stay with me," she murmured, her voice choked with sobs that threatened to overwhelm her.

"Of course, I will stay with you, no matter what," I assured her, my voice filled with unwavering determination. Gently, I guided her to lie down on the bed, ensuring her comfort. I positioned myself beside her, covering us both with a warm blanket, creating a cocoon of safety and protection.

Priscilla's POV.

I slowly opened my eyes, squinting against the blinding rays of the morning sun that streamed through the window. As I sat up on the bed, my senses gradually awakened, and I noticed the presence of another person beside me. Curiosity piqued, I gently shook his slumbering form, only to realize that it was Max, my roommate.

"Hey… Who are you?" I inquired, my voice laced with a mix of surprise and confusion. I turned my gaze towards him, my eyes widening as recognition dawned upon me. It was Max, the same Max who had crashed on my bed last night. Frustration surged within me, and without thinking, I pushed him, causing him to stumble and land on the floor.

"Hey, what are you doing? Why did you push me like that?" Max groaned, his voice tinged with annoyance as he struggled to rise from the floor. His eyes, still heavy with sleep, struggled to fully open.

"What are you doing in my room, on my bed?" I demanded, my tone laced with a mixture of anger and disbelief. I glared at him, awaiting an explanation for his audacious intrusion.

"Hello, you are the one who begged me to stay, and this is my house, which means this is my room," Max retorted, his voice tinged with a hint of defiance.

"If that is the case, then you deserve what I did to you," I retorted, my frustration mounting.

"Are you even a girl? You are so wild for your good," Max remarked, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to fully awaken.

Before I could respond, a sudden wave of nausea washed over me, causing my stomach to churn. Panic surged within me, and I swiftly rose from the bed, rushing towards the bathroom. The sensation of impending sickness overwhelmed me, and I found myself hunched over the sink, retching uncontrollably. It felt as though my insides were on the verge of being expelled as if I might vomit my liver out.

From the entrance, I heard Max's voice calling out, concerned about lacing his words. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine worry.

I couldn't help but let a hint of annoyance seep into my tone as I replied, "Do I look okay?" I swiftly rinsed my mouth with water, the cool liquid providing a momentary respite, before flushing the sink. My frustration mounting, I couldn't resist adding, "Do you want to watch me bathing?"

Max's response was swift and reassuring. "Of course not," he replied, his voice tinged with a touch of amusement.

Feeling the weight of my irritation, I couldn't help but let my impatience show. "Do you need any special invitations to leave?" I glared at him, my eyes narrowing in frustration. With a sigh, he finally relented and left my room.

After a soothing bath, I emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped securely around my body. As I made my way to the closest, my eyes widened in surprise and disbelief. The sight that greeted me was a collection of girlish clothes, overflowing from the shelves. Dresses, bags, watches, necklaces - everything one could imagine that only a woman would wear.

Anger surged within me, and I stormed out of the room, my towel serving as a makeshift shield. Fortunately, the house was empty, save for Max, who was seated at the dining table.

"Max," I exclaimed, my voice carrying a mix of frustration and exasperation, "I'm not going to wear that nonsense from the closet." My words reverberated through the room, causing Max to turn and look at me, his expression a mix of confusion and concern.

"Priscilla," he began, his voice gentle yet firm, "you know that I'm a man, right?" His question hung in the air, leaving me momentarily taken aback.

"Of course, I know that," I retorted.

"Then why are you standing naked in front of me? Aren't you embarrassed that I'm watching you like this?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes. "Didn't you just say that you've seen better girls than me? So why should I be ashamed? Besides, I still have this towel. I need clothes to wear, I can't go out like this. Right now, I'm in my right mind."

"Unfortunately, you have no choice but to wear those clothes. I bought them with your hard-earned money yesterday," Max stated.

I felt my blood boil and glared at him. "How dare you use my money without permission and buy those stupid clothes! I'm not going to wear them."

"Should I just throw them away then?" he asked, unfazed.

"Of course not, that's my money," I fumed.

"Then go and get dressed before you catch a cold," he said nonchalantly.

"I hate you, Maxima," I spat and stormed off to my room.

"Unfortunately, I don't feel the same way," Max called after me.

Max's POV

I couldn't help but chuckle softly to myself as I observed Priscilla, her petite figure storming up the stairs in a fit of anger. She was quite the character, always wearing a scowl or a glare, never once gracing us with a smile. It was a mystery to me how she managed to maintain such a perpetually irate demeanor. Meanwhile, the maids began their dutiful task of serving breakfast, their movements graceful and efficient. As I patiently awaited my meal, I couldn't help but notice the absence of my dear grandmother, who had ventured out to visit her friends. Lurry was off at school, while Liz had already departed for work.

After a few minutes had passed, Priscilla descended the staircase, her attire consisting of a pair of blue jeans, a vibrant green crop top, and a pair of sneakers. Her long, black cascaded down her back, untouched by any styling products, yet still radiating natural beauty. She gracefully pulled out a chair and settled herself down, her actions accompanied by an eerie silence. Without uttering a single word, she began to serve herself a portion of food on her plate.

Unable to resist the urge to compliment her, I spoke up, my voice filled with genuine admiration. "You truly look stunning in those vibrant colours, Priscilla. They suit you perfectly," I remarked as I began to serve myself a portion of food on my plate.

A hint of annoyance flashed across her face as she retorted, "I've already told you, I despise it when someone tells me I'm beautiful. Please refrain from such comments." With that, she proceeded to focus on her meal, her attention solely on the food before her.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I couldn't help but inquire further. "So, should I then assume that you prefer to be called ugly?" I asked, my tone laced with a touch of mischief.

A mischievous glint danced in her eyes as she replied, "That would be an improvement.

" So are you always like this? "I asked and she glared at me.

" Like what? "She asked.

" Always cold and angry? "I asked.