I'm so, so sorry for the long wait. My life has become hectic as of late and I'm trying to figure out how to maintain balance and my sanity. If you're still reading, thank you.

She wakes up disoriented and with the worst headache she's ever had. She sits up in bed, wondering when her single size dorm bed had become so comfortable. She rubs her eyes and remembers some details of last night. Drinks and Max. Holy shit she's in Max's bed. She claps her hand over her mouth to keep from yelping. Not only is she in Max's bed, she's wearing his clothes. She discreetly sniffs the shirt and smiles like an idiot.

She looks at the alarm clock on the small dresser next to her and squints. It's almost ten but there's no light shining through the window. She gets up and quietly moves to the window. She pushes the curtain aside, just a bit, to see that it's snowed even more and the driveways have been blocked, at least in this neighborhood.

Liesel frowns a bit at the sight. Does this mean she's snowed in? Her frown lifts into a grin when she thinks that it might not be so bad to be stuck at Max's for a while. She moves to the door and opens it slowly. She pokes her head out to see the lights in the hallway out, but hears noise coming from the kitchen.

She pads down the hall softly, stopping when she sees Max standing in front of the stove, flipping eggs over.

"Morning," Liesel says quietly as not to startle him.

He whirls around, spatula in hand.

"Liesel," he sounds surprised, then grins, "good morning."

He looks her over. Her hair is mussed and tangled and she looks sleepy. She's still wearing his clothes and he thinks she looks better in them than he ever would.

"Did I wake you?" he asks, concerned that the clanging of the pan and the rattle of plates had woken her.

"No, no," she shakes her head, "is there anything I can help with?"

"Can you grab the plates on the counter?" Max motions to them.

Liesel nods, picking up the two plates with the forks and knives resting on them. She takes them to the small kitchen table, assuming that's what Max wanted.

"Cups?" she asks.

He points to a cupboard above the sink and she nods, standing on her toes to grab two. She sets those on the table as well. She lingers near the fridge, unsure if she can open it. Or is it an invasion of privacy?

"There's juice in the fridge if you want," Max says, as if he can read her thoughts.

She bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. She finds a carton of orange juice and sets it on the table, then settles onto a chair. Moments later Max sets down a plate of scrambled eggs, some croissants, cheese, and butter.

Liesel looks at him, the corners of her lips lifting into a serene expression. He's wearing a plain gray shirt and black sweatpants, and his hair sticks out adorably. He sits down across from her and offers her a sleepy grin.

"Did you sleep well?" he asks.

"Best sleep in weeks," Liesel replies honestly. She's been frazzled for almost a month, what with final exams and trying not to throw herself at Max at every given opportunity. If anything she's shown great restraint and self-control.

"I'm glad to hear it," Max nods.

"I'm sorry you had to sleep on the couch. I should've taken it," Liesel says, busying herself with pouring a glass of orange juice.

"You're my guest. It's only right you took the bed," Max says with a shrug.

Liesel bites her lip, "How horrible was I last night?"

"Not horrible," Max pauses, "just drunk. It happens to the best of us."

The corner of Liesel's mouth twitches into a smirk.

"Any drunken escapades you care to share with the class, Professor?" she asks.

His cheeks turn pink and Liesel stops herself from laughing at him.

"Not with the class, no. With you, maybe," he says after a moment's silence.

Liesel's mirth is gone and her smirk vanishes. Now it's her turn to blush.

"It snowed a lot," she changes the topic.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why could neither of them say what they wanted to outright?

"I saw," Max nods, "might be a while before I can drive you back to campus, I'm sorry."

"That's fine. It's not your fault we're snowed in," Liesel picks at her food, feeling uneasy.

If she were a bolder woman she'd look down at her plate, then look at Max through her lashes, fluttering them. If she were bolder she'd ask to borrow a towel so she might take a shower to get the stale stench of alcohol and the cigarettes from the bar off of her, then walk up to him clad in nothing but said towel, and well… She flushes at the thought. No, no. She isn't a bolder woman. She's Liesel and she's just going to have to find her own way to seducing Max.

"I'll check the news and see if we're due for more snow and when the snow will be cleared from the neighborhood," Max says.

"You don't have a TV," Liesel observes.

"I just watch things on my computer," Max takes a bite of eggs.

"I guess TVs are becoming obsolete," Liesel says thoughtfully. She used to love Saturday morning cartoons, but she never got invested in weekly dramas when she got older.

"Times are changing," Max agrees.

They fall into a bout of silence while they eat. Liesel mostly picks at her food, stomach too busy doing somersaults for her to actually enjoy it. She catches a whiff of her hair and wrinkles her nose. She really does need to shower but how to ask without seeming intrusive or like she has ulterior motives?

While she's lost in her thoughts, Max tries not to look at her. He can't really help himself. He's caught himself looking at her countless times in class, if only for a moment. It's the way she stares at the board, or the way she furrows her brow, the way she concentrates on taking what he's sure are meticulous notes, or the way she snorts and elbows Rudy Steiner in the ribs when he says something funny or stupid or both. This is different. She's right in front of him, close enough to touch. They're sharing breakfast and it's all so domestic Max would glad quit his job if it meant he could keep her.

She looks up and catches him staring. Her cheeks color prettily and she smiles. Max smiles back and they sit there like fools, smiling at each other.

After several moments, Liesel breaks the silence.

"I know it's too much to ask, but could I please use your shower? I smell like the bar," she asks, delicately wrinkling her nose.

Max gapes at her. Liesel. Shower. In his house. Naked. Liesel naked in his shower. He shifts in his seat.

"Of course. I'll go get you a towel and a change of clothes," Max stands quickly, practically running into the hall.

It remains unspoken that Liesel is wearing her only underthings at the moment and she doesn't want to put them back on after being fresh and clean.

Liesel stands and puts Max's almost empty plate in the sink along with their glasses of juice. Her food's remained greatly untouched, not because it wasn't good but because her nerves won't allow her to enjoy it.

She lingers in the living room and Max comes back with two towels (one for her hair, she assumes) a shirt, socks, and sweatpants.

"I didn't have anything else," Max says apologetically. He doesn't often have lady visitors, though he supposes that's a good thing.

"Thank you," Liesel takes them from him gratefully and goes to the bathroom.

She closes the door and chooses not to lock it. She trusts Max. Plus she can be clumsy sometimes and if she trips and hits her head she'd want him to be able to get in quickly to help.

She sheds the pajamas Max had given her and folds them neatly, placing them on the covered toilet seat. She places the towels and clothing in the sink and glances around the sparse bathroom. It's plain. White walls, porcelain sink and toilet, tiled shower. Nothing fancy. There's a distinctly "Max" vibe from the rest of the apartment but the bathroom remains untouched by it.

Liesel turns the knob for the hot water and waits until it's at just the right temperature before jumping in. She slides the door closed and lets out a contented sigh when the water hits her body.

She glances at the sparse assortment on the shower shelf. Shampoo and body wash. Men, Liesel rolls her eyes. She takes a bit of shampoo and runs it through her hair until it lathers. It smells nice. It smells like Max: clean and a little bit forest-y. She rinses it out and shampoos again, just to make sure the smells from the bar are completely eradicated. She squirts a dollop of body wash into her hand and scrubs it over her limbs.

She doesn't want to get out of the warmth of the shower just yet, and she knows her hair will be a tangled mess because there's no conditioner. She'll make due but she wonders how Max's hair looks so soft when he doesn't even have conditioner.

Liesel finally steps out of the shower and wraps the towel around her. She wraps the second towel over her hair. She dries herself off and puts on the pants (too large) and shirt (a better fit, but still loose). She ignores the fact she's not wearing underwear and hopes it's not noticeable. She pulls on the socks and is delighted to find they're quite warm.

She hangs the towel neatly on a towel rack and uses the other towel to scrunch the water out of her hair. After a few minutes she decides to head out into the living room.

She finds Max on his laptop, looking like he's reading the news or something. She slowly walks forward and sits next to him.

"So, the snow?"

Max is on sensory overload. He doesn't hear her question at all. She's wearing his clothes, her hair is still damp, her skin is glistening, the shirt clings to her frame in a way he never could have imagined, and she smells like him. He wills away the tightening in his pants. She's going to be the death of him and he's going to enjoy every moment of it.

"Sorry?" he asks, staring at her.

"The snow situation," Liesel says.

"Oh. We're due for another bout tonight but the roads should be clear in a couple of hours. I can take you home then," Max says.

Liesel's mouth turns into a small frown, but she nods anyway.

"We can watch a movie until then? Or read? I have Monopoly somewhere so there's that too," Max begins to rattle off the options to pass the time.

Liesel bites her lips and scoots closer to him. He freezes and Liesel puts her head on his shoulder.

"A movie sounds good," she comments.

"Any particular one?"

"Something nice. Amelie?" she asks.

Max nods and searches for it on Netflix. He sets the laptop on the coffee table and leans back into the couch as the movie starts. Liesel is nestled against him and he slowly wraps his arm around her shoulders. She moves so that her head rests against his chest and she lifts her legs onto the couch so that she's practically lying on top of him.

They sit in silence, watching the movie for a good half hour. The only sound comes from the film, the snow plows outside, and Liesel's stifled yawns. Max's hands find their way to the top of her head, and his fingers run through her drying hair. It's such a nice sensation that Liesel doesn't have the heart to tell him her hair will be a frizzy mess if he keeps doing that.

At some point she closes her eyes and wraps her arms around his waist. He doesn't move and they sit there, holding each other. She nuzzles against his shirt and she's never felt so calm and safe before in her life. She doesn't want to move.

The film reaches the part where Amelie helps the blind man from the metro through the streets of Paris, where she describes the scene for him and Liesel can't help but tear up. Max notices and moves his hand down her hair to rub small circles on her back.

She mumbles an apology and Max laughs, telling her that it's one of his favorite parts of the film. She tears up again at the end when Amelie imagines Nino coming to her apartment and before she knows it the movie's over. She wipes happy tears from her eyes and smiles.

"Another one?" Max asks.

Liesel shakes her head and Max looks at her in confusion.

"Then what?" he asks, brows crinkled.

She looks at him, unable to form the words. How can he not get what she wants to do? Instead of being direct, she asks, "Could I see the story you've been working on?"

Max is quiet before answering, "Are you sure?"

Liesel nods earnestly, sitting up so that Max can move.

"It's not a masterpiece or anything," he scratches the back of his neck.

"Please, Max?" she bites her lip.

He sighs, knowing he'd give in to her any day. He excuses himself and when he comes back it's with a notebook. He flips to the right page and hands it to Liesel, who takes it gingerly. She looks at him, then hands it back.

"Read it to me," she requests.

Max nods, then settles back onto the couch. Liesel curls up next to him, waiting for him to start reading.

That's it for now. I have the next chapter planned out, I just need to write it. Please let me know what you think!