Sincerely, Yours

Chapter 1

Maxine "Max" Durand stood in front of her mirror, examining herself for what felt like the hundredth time. Her long chestnut hair, streaked with caramel highlights, was still damp from her shower, cascading in loose waves down her back. She lifted a hand to run her fingers through it, shaking her head slightly to give it that effortless, tousled look that took, in reality, way more effort than she liked to admit.

Her reflection stared back at her, green eyes glittering under the bathroom light, pupils slightly dilated from the steamy warmth that still hung in the air. She smirked at herself, cocking her head to the side. She wasn't usually one for fussing over appearances, but something about today had her feeling... well, she wasn't sure. Antsy? A little off-center. Like she needed to look *just right* even though she and Jax were only going for their usual weekend brunch.

Brunch. At the diner they'd been going to for years.

Why did she care what she looked like? Max exhaled sharply, dismissing the question. It was just one of those days, she told herself. Nothing more, nothing less. She tugged at the oversized graphic tee she wore, the one with *Not Today, Satan* emblazoned across the front in bold, white letters. A gift from Jax, naturally. They had a whole running gag with matching shirts—Jax's was black with the same phrase, and more often than not, he'd wear it just to annoy her.

Max stared down at the shirt, debating whether to tie it up on the side or leave it hanging loose. On a whim, she twisted the fabric into a knot on her hip, feeling it cinch at her waist and show off a sliver of skin above her joggers. She shrugged, satisfied with the look. Casual, but still... something. She slid her feet into her favorite white sneakers and grabbed her hoodie off the bed, slinging it over her shoulder before stepping out of her bedroom.

As she padded down the hall, the familiar sounds of Jax clinking dishes in the kitchen reached her ears. She smiled to herself. He'd always make a mess of the kitchen, then try to clean it up before she noticed, thinking she wouldn't see the trail of evidence he left behind. She leaned against the doorframe and watched him for a moment, admiring the easy grace with which he moved around their shared space.

Jaxon "Jax" Hayes, with his tousled dark hair and lean, athletic build, was sprawled out in front of the sink, rinsing a mug. He wore one of his many flannel shirts—this one a deep red and navy—open over a fitted white tee. Max couldn't help but notice the way the fabric clung to his chest, the faintest outline of his abs visible through the thin cotton.

She swallowed hard and forced herself to look away, feeling an unexpected flutter in her stomach. *What the hell was that?* She shook her head, banishing the thought as quickly as it came. It was just Jax, her best friend and roommate for the last two years. No big deal.

"You planning to actually get ready or what?" Jax's voice, laced with teasing, broke through her thoughts. He hadn't turned around but clearly knew she was there, as he always seemed to.

Max rolled her eyes and pushed off the doorframe. "Relax, Romeo. I'm ready. I was waiting on you."

Jax turned, drying his hands on a dishtowel, his hazel eyes meeting hers with that familiar mix of mischief and warmth. His smile broadened, and that damn dimple on his left cheek made its appearance, as it always did when he was about to make some sort of smartass remark.

"Really?" he asked, tossing the towel onto the counter. "Because last I checked, I've been ready for the past fifteen minutes. You were the one having a personal fashion show in there."

Max raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. "How do you know what I was doing?"

Jax leaned against the counter, shrugging. "I know you. Plus, I can hear you cursing at your closet from across the hall."