Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie · (Roswell Fanfiction) · √

FIFTY-EIGHT

Diane interrupted our 'meeting' by stepping around the corner and asking, "Do you have time for dinner?"

I glanced at Diane's open face, before looking at Mr. Evans who was giving his wife a gentle smile. "Of course. I bet the youngsters are hungry."

He smiled at us and I found myself blushing, afraid that Max's father knew what activities Max and I might have engaged in that were efficient at working up an appetite.

I felt Max's amusement at my mortification, but the seriousness of the situation we found ourselves in kept him from laughing, instead pressing a kiss to my temple and whispering, "Let's eat."

"Great," Diane said, sounding relieved.

Max pulled me to my feet and I became aware of the rich smells of a home cooked meal. How had I missed those fragrances before? I must have been really focused on the conversation.

But while my stomach rumbled for sustenance, the smells overwhelmed my frightened and nervous senses, making me nauseous at the thought of eating.

"You need to eat," Max said, an irritated bite to his voice as my stomach threatened to turn over at this soft order.

He pulled a chair out for me at the decked table and practically pushed me into the seat.

"I'm not feeling too good," I mumbled back, swallowing back the nausea.

"You need your strength," Max replied, his tone of voice leaving no room for objections.

"I'll grab something to eat in the car on the way to the meeting," I tried and my stomach made a worrisome twist as Diane placed a large roasted chicken in the middle of the table.

My body was craving food whilst my mind was abhorring it.

"You'll feel better once you start eating," Max said, already reaching for the chicken even though no one except us had taken a seat.

He grabbed my plate and placed it next to the chicken before carving off piece after piece for me and placing them on my plate.

Diane reentered the dining area at that point, frowning at her son, and scolded, "Max, I'm sure Liz can get her own food."

I understood from the disapproving look she was giving the amount of chicken Max was putting on my plate that she wasn't just talking about my capability of serving myself, but rather that it looked like Max was trying to feed a whole school class of kids rather than one 16-year-old girl.

Max raised an eyebrow at me, the large serving fork frozen in his hand, and asked succinctly, "Is it too much?" Daring me to object.

I sighed loudly, tainted by the annoyance in his system, and tensed my mouth in an expression worthy of a sulking teenager. "At that rate, there won't be any chicken left for your family. Why even bother to cut it up? You could've just put the whole chicken on my plate instead."

Isabel breezed into the room, looking stellar as usual. "I didn't know you were a feeder, brother."

I watched the blush spread over Max's cheeks and I couldn't stop my quiet laugh.

It didn't help that Diane looked utterly confused, her gaze jumping between her children and her husband, while Mr. Evans just looked bored. Combined with my sleep deprivation, the family scene became very comical.

I bit my lower lip hard to stop my laughter from exploding and managed to send Isabel a grateful look as she gracefully floated into the chair next to me. But not before she had grabbed the fork out of Max's hand and shuffled a large part of my portion over onto her plate.