His Basement, His Office - Chapter 4: Chapter 4
You are reading His Basement, His Office, Chapter 4: Chapter 4. Read more chapters of His Basement, His Office.
"…Brother, you actually agreed?!"
Maxwell glanced around my apartment as I handed him a glass of water. He thanked me, and I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling awkward.
"So… have you eaten yet?"
He shook his head. "No, just had a drink."
"Then… want me to make you some noodles?" I hesitated, deciding against suggesting takeout.
"Are you feeling better?" Maxwell frowned.
"Much better, much better," I said with an awkward grin.
I couldn't exactly admit it was because he looked exactly like the killer from my dream, could I?
A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Then I'll trouble you."
That smile alone left me momentarily stunned. Damn, he's good-looking. And that smile?
I grinned like an idiot as I whipped up a bowl of tomato and egg noodles.
Maxwell took a bite and exhaled lightly—still hot. For a second, I felt like some doting housewife making a late-night snack for her overworked husband.
What the hell? I mentally slapped myself and quickly grabbed my phone to distract myself with random videos.
Maxwell ate with surprising speed, polishing off the noodles in no time. He stood, heading toward the kitchen with the empty bowl.
"Hey, hey—I'll wash it!" I scrambled to stop him.
He raised the bowl just out of reach. "You weren't feeling well earlier. Just rest. Besides, you cooked—it's only fair I clean up."
As I watched him walk into the kitchen, I internally cheered.
Oh my God. No way this guy's a killer. He washes dishes! He's a freaking saint!
I swear, I almost wanted to kneel in gratitude. Washing dishes was my personal nightmare—hence the takeout addiction.
Maxwell probably had no idea how many brownie points he'd just earned with a single act of dishwashing.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Maxwell was lost in thought. The person in that dream looked exactly like me… How could a staunch materialist like him even begin to process that?
Maxwell glanced around my apartment as I handed him a glass of water. He thanked me, and I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling awkward.
"So… have you eaten yet?"
He shook his head. "No, just had a drink."
"Then… want me to make you some noodles?" I hesitated, deciding against suggesting takeout.
"Are you feeling better?" Maxwell frowned.
"Much better, much better," I said with an awkward grin.
I couldn't exactly admit it was because he looked exactly like the killer from my dream, could I?
A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Then I'll trouble you."
That smile alone left me momentarily stunned. Damn, he's good-looking. And that smile?
I grinned like an idiot as I whipped up a bowl of tomato and egg noodles.
Maxwell took a bite and exhaled lightly—still hot. For a second, I felt like some doting housewife making a late-night snack for her overworked husband.
What the hell? I mentally slapped myself and quickly grabbed my phone to distract myself with random videos.
Maxwell ate with surprising speed, polishing off the noodles in no time. He stood, heading toward the kitchen with the empty bowl.
"Hey, hey—I'll wash it!" I scrambled to stop him.
He raised the bowl just out of reach. "You weren't feeling well earlier. Just rest. Besides, you cooked—it's only fair I clean up."
As I watched him walk into the kitchen, I internally cheered.
Oh my God. No way this guy's a killer. He washes dishes! He's a freaking saint!
I swear, I almost wanted to kneel in gratitude. Washing dishes was my personal nightmare—hence the takeout addiction.
Maxwell probably had no idea how many brownie points he'd just earned with a single act of dishwashing.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Maxwell was lost in thought. The person in that dream looked exactly like me… How could a staunch materialist like him even begin to process that?
End of His Basement, His Office Chapter 4. Continue reading Chapter 5 or return to His Basement, His Office book page.