Irritable and UptightMature


I didn't really understand why I'd just been so horrible to him. I mean, we'd just made a deal that I wouldn't be nasty to him! And he wasn't being that bad, he was just being... Maximus! His own, annoying, irritating self.

And the waitress! Why was I so bothered? I hadn't even heard the conversation, for god's sake! She was just some petty, desperate girl.

I sat in the passenger seat of Maximus's car with my arms folded, without saying a word. My attempts at calming myself down just made me angrier, and it obviously radiated from me because Maximus took it upon himself to ask if I was all right.

"I'm fine," I replied stiffly, keeping my gaze firmly out of the window.

"God, I was just asking," he muttered, frowning.

"Yes, and I said I'm fine!"

"Chic, you need to chill out," his look told me I was completely out of order.

"Don't call me 'chic'," I threw at him, but still refused to look at him. 

He suddenly pulled in and stopped the car. "All right then," he seemed to be struggling to keep his voice sounding calm. "Briony. What the hell is your problem!?"

"Nothing," I said blankly.

"Well it didn't really seem like nothing back there. You're being such an irritable, uptight bitch"" he countered loudly, forcing me to look at him.

I turned on him. "Fine! It's you. You're my problem! All right?"

He frowned, but I think I confused him a bit because he seemed less angry. "Me?"

"Yes! You're so confusing, Maximus! You can't just have the same personality all the time! You're annoying and you're irritating but then you're nice and understanding, and then you're a complete ass hole again, and then you're being all right halfway through being an idiot! You're just so... so confusing! Why can't you be the same guy all the time?"

Maximus was silent for a while, and he started his engine again and drove back onto the road. Then, when he could tell that my outburst had used up all the energy put into being angry, he asked, "Why are you crying?"

I flipped down the sunshade and saw in the little mirror that tears were streaking down my cheeks. I wiped then away with my sleeve. "I cry when I'm pissed off."

"Oh. There are tissues in the glove box."

"Thanks," I dried my eyes. "Sorry I called you a bastard."

"Sorry I called you a bitch."

And then there was silence.

After about ten minutes moving at snails pace, stuck in traffic, Maximus said, "You know, when I was little there was a pot doll in our front room, and I always thought it was a really small live girl."

"And? Did Rosie remind you of it?"

"Actually, I was going to say that if I didn't know better, I would have thought that Rosie was the pot doll."

He smiled awkwardly, and I laughed despite myself. He grinned, and then he laughed, too. 

Apparently, we could get along after all. 

The End

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