Goldie Locks: Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance

I didn’t want to overwhelm her with questions, but now I can see even she’s willing to give it some thought.

Two heads are better than one after all.

She looks thoughtfully at the same horizon, but then puckers her lips, making a face.

“It’s sweet of you to say so, Max. But trust me, there’s no one in my life. Not now, not ever,” she reaffirms, making me feel that little stab of hurt again.

Didn’t she see what she does to me? Doesn’t she get it?

I feel like shaking her, grabbing her by the shoulders, and showing her just how much she means to me, but I have to remind myself, time and place. And everything on her terms.

I can’t push myself on her though, not if she doesn’t want me.

“I’ll tell you this much, Max,” she continues. “I’ve had plenty of people make fun of me, play pranks, and make me the butt of every joke since I was in grade school. Nothing changed through college either.”

She sounds like someone who’s seasoned in being down on herself, but if all that she’s said is true can I blame her?

“But why?” I hear myself asking her, asking the world really. “Why? How could anyone do that to you?”

Her head tilts and she narrows her eyes, only relaxing when she sees I’m being genuine.

“Ummm… My weight. My height, my clumsiness?” she tells me, a matter of fact. As if those are things I can even think about her let alone see.

Which I can’t. I don’t see any of that when I look at her, and I tell her so.

“Well, I don’t see those things when I look at you,” I tell her, surprising myself by suddenly feeling bashful, shy.

Only because I want to tell her just one thing, but I’m not sure if she feels exactly the same way.

“And what do you see when you look at me?” she asks, cocking a brow.

“I see someone who maybe wants a change. Someone who’s smart, caring. Beautiful,” I manage to get that much out.

She scoffs a laugh, blushing as she looks away.

“You’re very diplomatic, even sweet Maxwell Bear. But I’m not sure my life, let alone my little problem is so easily fixed by simply wanting it to change,” she finally sighs, turning to face me, her eyes looking sadder than ever.

“I wanna help you, Phoebe, I really do,” I tell her. “But you have to let me in.”

She licks her lips, opening them to tell me something when we both hear a gruff voice from behind us.

“Hey! Yo, Gold? Why’d you take off so fast?”

I’m on my feet in a second, turning with my fists balled up and ready to strike.

This piece of shit who’s been following her is about to get my own brand of justice.

I feel Phoebe right next to me, her hands on my arm, pulling it down.

“Max, no don’t. It’s… It’s my boss.”

I relax, a little but still keep an offense position as the guy gets closer.

He’s half a foot shorter than me and looks like he could take care of himself. He sniffs loudly as he eyes me up and down.

“Problem, fella?” he growls, cracking his neck before eyeballing Phoebe with a grin.

“Your dad’s lookin’ out for ya, Phoebe? That’s nice. But you ran off before I could talk to you after you finished your shift,” he tells her.

I let my hands relax, but keep close to Phoebe. Being called her dad makes me feel ancient. But I guess he’s just calling it how he sees it.

“Sorry, I just wanted to get home,” Phoebe pipes up. “What did you want to see me about?”

“Just askin’. If you still want that day off? I got somebody else who can take your spot for the next two days. I know you said you needed extra money, but the unions… I can’t work you nine days in a row. Sorry kid,” he says, looking over to me again, frowning at my suit.

She groans and starts to protest, but I squeeze her arm gently and lean in to tell her what I’ve been waiting for anyway.

“It’s alright, sweetie. We talked about me helping you out anyway, remember?” I ask her, noting her look of confusion but her boss looks like he’s done playing messenger for the day.

“See you Monday night, Gold. And don’t be late,” he says coldly, turning without saying goodbye and leaving us alone again.

“Nice guy, must be a hoot at the Christmas party,” I observe, but Phoebe’s not in a joking mood.

“What was all that about?” she growls at me, twisting her face in anger.

“I was all set to do extra to make up for what I owe… what I owe you now, then you come out with that?” she says, flushing a deeper shade of red.

“I was gonna talk to you about it,” I confess. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this past few hours, about how I can help you,” I remind her.