Chapter 3
The amusing adventure of snooping through Ethan's schoolwork was long forgotten once Maxim was sat across from Greg and Naomi at the dining table.
They weren't caught in awkward silence, but Maxim felt awkward anyway.
He felt like an intruder, a rando who'd just burst into their house and was now sat there.
They started by discussing the gas leak, then the weather, then the drive here.
Maxim ended up talking about the Mustangs for awhile, because he and this nice Crestonian couple only had two things in common: hockey, and loving Ethan.
And Maxim sure as hell didn't want to talk about Ethan when he wasn't here to dilute the conversation.
So Maxim just rambled for a while about his coach, his teammates, his contract.
Differences to Belford.
Naomi was definitely holding back her true opinions on the Mustangs in favour of polite
mhmms
Oh, interesting
; it didn't take a genius to get that.
Although by the end of dinner, the conversation wrapped up with Maxim and Naomi having a cordial agreement of nice sounding words that essentially meant the Mustangs were shit from a butt.
Naomi kind of had a mischievous glint in her eye when she said they had a history of 'trying their best', likely with an 'and failing' omitted.
Maxim had to stifle a knowing smile at that, and instead said, "I will make sure they try even harder," to which the two acknowledged.
Maxim might have been their son's archrival (not really), but he knew they at least respected his skills.
Naomi stood to clear their plates, but looked pointedly at Maxim.
"Do you want seconds?
I don't really know how to portion for a guy your size, so it might have not been enough."
"No, no," said Maxim, standing up as well to attempt to take over dish duty.
"I am very full.
And very delicious," he said, looking to Greg who'd done the cooking.
It wasn't just to be polite, the meal was
good while also being balanced.
Spaghetti and meatballs in a well-seasoned tomato sauce that contained a multitude of different vegetables, with roasted asparagus
salad on the side.
Healthy, balanced, but with actual taste and form, a quality Maxim couldn't recall enjoying the last time he'd shared a meal with a Whitmore.
The salad was a proper Cobb Salad with Romano and croutons, something Maxim didn't even realize he'd missed.
"Well, if you get a hankering for a midnight snack, we've got a snack drawer and Nova in the fridge," said Greg, walking over to the counter to pull out and showcase said snack drawer.
It was packed.
Sweet, salty, crispy, crunchy, soft, chewy, anything was in there.
Maxim doubted he'd take up that offer out of politeness, but he definitely considered it a bit too long.
Though Maxim had wanted to do the dishes, Naomi had insisted that guests weren't allowed to do chores, plus they had a fancy new dishwasher installed.
She was hard to say no to, so Maxim retired to his room with a grateful goodnight.
He was not very surprised to find the exact same brand and scent of soap and shampoo in the shower as Ethan had now, as he rarely switched.
He must have decided on it when he was school-aged and had kept using it ever since.
Maxim smelled like Ethan after his shower, and he loved that.
The room smelled like Ethan too, even though he hadn't lived there in years.
It felt like being in his presence.
Maxim flopped down a little too hard on the small bed, causing it to creak a little.
It'd be embarrassing if it broke, so he shifted a little more carefully when he turned to his side as he took out his phone, waiting for Ethan to pick up the video call.
The screen filled with a freckled face framed by glasses after a few rings.
They just stared at each other for a while, taking in the other's face separated by a tiny rectangle of glass, before Ethan broke into a warm smile.
"Hi," he said, in that gentle tone Maxim basked in.
"Hi,
moyo sokrovishche,
" murmured Maxim back, equally as gentle and a little quieter because he didn't know how thin the walls were at this house.
"How's it going so far?"
"Good," replied Maxim, because it was good.
"Dinner was very good.
The shower is very good.
The toilet is very good.
Very strong water."
Ethan rolled his eyes.
"I mean with my parents."
"Good.
They are nice."
"What did you guys talk about?" Ethan was looking into the screen a little more intensely.
His phone was propped on his desk, where it seemed he'd been in the middle of journalling or brainstorming gameplay.
He was leaning over on his elbows, giving Maxim his full attention now.
"Emm," said Maxim.
"Weather.
Traffic.
Mustangs."
Ethan narrowed his eyes a little.
"Nothing else?" Aha.
"Yes," Maxim drew out slowly.
We did talk about something else." He paused, trying not to smirk.
"What?" Ethan pressed impatiently.
The detour from Linden Road."
"Ugh," said Ethan, and Maxim couldn't help but laugh with endearment.
"No, we did not talk about you, sweetheart." Ethan's annoyance seemed to soften up with the pet name, but he was still a little petulant.
"You guys really didn't mention me?
Not even once?"
Maxim laughed again and shook his head against the pillow.
"I'm not sure if I should be happy or sad at that," Ethan grumbled.
"At least no one's complaining or gossiping about me."
Maxim wanted to kiss that grumpy little frown so badly, but settled for clutching the blanket that smelled like Ethan's preferred fabric softener a little higher up his body.
"You worry too much,
Your parents love you the most, they would never say something bad about you."
"Sure, but they could say something
embarrassing,
" said Ethan.
"Or you could.
Who knows."