Page 16 of Out Of Time

He saw her approach the door from the back of the house and his vision blurred, but it had nothing to do with his eyes and everything to do with Remi wearing some kind of glittery bathing suit, with her sparkly legs on display and her hair in two space buns on top of her head. He didn't know what she was dressed as, but he liked it.

She opened the screen door for him, a huge toothy grin on her face, and he noticed she had little pastel jewels surrounding her blue eyes. They were stormy tonight, and he wondered if they were predicting the weather that was upon them.

“I’m so happy you agreed to come. I was certain you would say no.”

And to be fair, so was he.

“Welcome. It’s not much, but it's home,” she said, and something about that statement filled Max’s heart with longing. A longing for a sense of what she had here—a sense of home.

“It’s nice,” he said.

“It’sjustokay. Nothing in comparison to your house,” she teased, and she couldn't be more wrong.

Remi’s house was everything. It was colors, pictures, and little sentiments tucked away on shelves. It was a life lived and being lived. There were memories etched in the chipped flooring; maybe a bottle falling during a drunken night. There was love and happiness in the mismatched furniture. There was a sense of family present, in the small fish tank, with a singular betta.

She was so wrong. His place had nothing on this.

“So, did you come up with a costume? Or do I have to force you to wear something from my box of Halloweens past?” she asked.

“I brought a jersey, figured I could be a hockey player,” he said, feeling stupid.

“No. That won't do.”

“I didn’t have anything else,” Max stated.

“Well, lucky for you I have just the thing,” Remi said, bolting from the living room.

When she returned, she had a headband with cat ears on it.

“No,” Max said instantly.

“You have to dress up, it's the rules.”

“I can’t be a cat.”

“And why not?” she asked.

“Because I’m a massive redhead.”

“Yeah, exactly, you can be a ginger cat, it’s a whole fucking breed,” she said, handing him the ears.

“But these are black,” he argued.

“Max Miller, put the cat ears on or I’ll find something else, and trust me, it’ll only get worse.”

Max put the bottle of alcohol he brought under his arm and took the headband cat ears. Hesitantly, he put them on as Remi bounced on her toes in front of him with excitement.

Once they were on, Max held out his hands in a “ta-da” gesture and Remi squealed with joy.

“Max Miller, you are the hottest black cat I’ve ever seen.”

He felt his face blush. “I thought you said I was a ginger cat.”

“Whatever kind of cat you are, you look purrrrrrrrrrty good,” she said with a wink, and Max laughed for the first time in what felt like forever. He genuinely laughed, and his reward was a double-dimple smile from this beautiful girl.

“Okay, let me grab my bottle and the rest of my costume and we can head out.”

Remi turned to grab her things, and Max tried and failed to not watch her walk away. Her body was so readily available for him to look at, and while he knew he shouldn't, he feasted on the sight of her. The way the costume hugged her ass, and the way her legs were so long and fit. He felt a stir in the pit of his stomach; he ached for her. He ached for more of her than she was offering. It was an ache that would only be dulled by him slowly pushing the sequined straps of the bodysuit from her shoulders and pulling it down her body.

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