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

FIFTY-TWO

Diane winked at me, like we were sharing a private joke, and I couldn't help but smile. She was making an effort to blend in with the 'everyday'-setting of the kitchen, even though I could see the fear still remain in the wrinkles around her eyes and how her easiness didn't quite reach the atmosphere around her.

"You do make wonderful pancakes, Max," she admitted.

"That he does," I said, before Max could answer. Even though he was in my mind, I could tell that he was surprised by my forwardness and it was a surprise shared by his mother as she raised her eyebrows in curiosity.

"He's cooked for you?"

I nodded, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. Damn my bodily reactions!

Max wasn't making it better by throwing me a grin, knowing exactly where my mind had gone. Knowing exactly what memory I would associate pancakes with for the rest of my life.

I felt three sets of eyes on me, making me drop my head to hide the emotions on my face. Max's father must know what we had been up to. Max had insinuated as much when he had told him that we had fully bonded. Catching the contemplative wrinkles crinkling Diane's forehead, I had a feeling that Max's mother was slowly putting two and two together.

If she hadn't, she probably did the second Max walked up to me, placed his hand on my hip, whispered "Breakfast is ready" close to my ear, and let his hand slide along the small of my back before he continued towards the table.

I must have looked as surprised as Max's mother. She looked like she was one step away from having her mouth drop open. I was surprised at how openly Max was touching me in front of his parents.

He really had thrown every caution to the wind. He really was serious about it being the two of us now. No more hiding.

"You want coffee, Di?" Mr. Evans asked when I turned to follow Max towards the table.

"Thank you," Diane answered.

I locked eyes with Max before walking around his back and resuming my seat next to him. Max leaned in and pecked my cheek. A gesture so light and ordinary that my soul vibrated.

"Do you want coffee?" he asked.

I grimaced and suggested, "Tea? I haven't learned to drink coffee yet."

"We have tea," Diane answered. She seemed relieved to have something to do as she walked up to one of the cabinets and pulled out several boxes with different types of tea. "What's your poison? Green? Herbal? Black?"

"Green is fine," I replied politely. Max was watching me, even when I wasn't returning his gaze, his attention keeping the blush on my cheeks fresh.

"Phil, could you turn on the kettle for me?"

I turned away from the conversation between Max's parents and met the almost wistful expression on Max's face.

I smiled at him in mild confusion, still trying to get used to how to sort through his mind to find the thoughts that would answer my questions. "What?"

He returned my smile, shook his head in denial and put a light kiss on my lips. "Nothing."

It was turning out to be very convenient to have a mental connection when you wanted to keep some parts of your conversation secret from people outside of the bond. Like a secret - and silent - language. Something I was just starting to reap the benefits from, when Max continued our conversation telepathically.

What was that with my mom? His mind was tranquil, curiously inquisitive.

I frowned. What do you mean?