Author’s Note: This is a fic request for my new, extremely talented friend @klaudina-beaumontkk. If you haven’t seen her photo manipulation work, you should really check it out!
We were arranging a barter (of sorts) and I told her I would love to do a fic request for her. She asked for a Maxwell x MC fic from the first book, a situation where the two friends could have hooked up. I’ll be honest, I was nervous to do this as (most of you know!) I’m a die-hard Drake stan . . . but this was actually really fun. I enjoyed getting out of my (Drake-centric) comfort zone and I’m pleased with how this turned out.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this read and, most importantly, I hope this lives up to your expectations @klaudina-beaumontkk!
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Maxwell leaned his back against the bar, vibrations from the loud music reverberating down his spine. He took a sip of his whiskey on the rocks and tried to keep a nonchalant appearance as he surveyed the bar. It was a cool place alright, with rustic decor and hardwood floors throughout and even a mechanical bull in an “arena” in the corner. Modern country played through the booming sound system, causing people to spontaneously break out in line dancing on the dance floor.. Not his usual scene, but the company was good, the drinks were strong and the music was . . . tolerable.
He scanned the dancefloor casually, trying not make it obvious who he was looking for. When he found her he quickly scooted his eyes away, but he couldn’t fight that nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. Rosie looked HOT tonight. Wearing cowboy couture, a low-cut flowered dress that showed off her legs topped off with a cowboy hat, she fit right into the scene . . . . but she would definitely never blend in looking like that. It took every bit of strength he could muster to not stare at her as she laughed and hopped around the dance floor with Hana.
Maxwell didn’t know when, but things with Rosie had changed. At least, they’d changed for him.
Two months ago he’d shown up at her apartment the morning after she’d walked into all of their lives . . . more specifically, into Liam’s life. Sure, they’d all been charmed by her in New York as she showed them around her city and they’d ended up at her favorite desolate beach cove. He’d seen the spark between her and Liam, it was impossible to miss. That’s when the idea popped into his head . . . the chance to redeem House Beaumont with a potential suitor in the running for Liam’s hand in marriage. And what he hoped was a good chance given the chemistry between the two.
During the two months since they’d arrived in Cordonia, he and Rosie had become close friends. She had reassured his feelings of inadequacies that Bertrand constantly reminded him of and make him smile at her impressions if his uptight olde brother. And he had been a trusted advisor and a shoulder to cry on as she competed with the other suitors to become Queen, and all the heartbreak and pettiness that came along with it. They enjoyed many of the same things, discussing the newest movies and singing catchy pop songs while he assisted her in choosing the perfect outfit for every event. Somewhere between the early morning wake-up visits and late night chats, Maxwell had realized he was falling for Rosie.
“Beaumont.” Called a gruff voice approaching him. He turned to see Drake walking towards the bar, motioning a “two” on his fingers to the bartender and pointing to the glass of whiskey in Maxwell’s hand. “I figured I’d find you on the dancefloor instead of in my territory.” He handed him a fresh glass of whiskey before taking a big swig of his own.
Maxwell laughed. “Yeah, just not really feeling the vibe in this place. I enjoy my clubs a little more. . . clubby.” And maybe a little less . . . distracting.
As Maxwell and Drake continued to drink by the bar in silence, the rest of the gang began to migrate over to them. Liam had just shown up and was obviously just as taken by Rosie’s outfit as he was. As Rosie and Hana chatted with Liam, he could see the tiny beads of sweat settling on her neck and collarbone. She laughed almost breathily, as if she was still tryin to catch her breath from the boisterous line dance. Maxwell swallowed hard as she caught his gaze and stilled, giving him a small smile of acknowledgement. Fuck, man. Just act normal! He attempted to smile back convincingly, but he was pretty sure it had turned out cheesy. Liam said something to Rosie, grasping her attention again, and he quickly took the opportunity to turn away from the group and fiddle with his drink on the bar.
He could smell her perfume before he felt her edge up next to him, the fresh floral aroma he’d grown familiar with. “Hey you.” She said in a playful tone as she nudged her shoulder against his. “I’ve been missing you on the dancefloor. Come dance with me? No one else out there can keep up with me.” He glanced over at her, falling into her deep blue eyes before she quickly winked one at him. He grinned, starting to loosen up a bit at her cheerful mood.
“Well, this music is not exactly conducive to my particular dance style. Too twangy and too many cowbells.”
“Hmmm, so that’s it. Let me see about that.” With that she pushed back from the bar in one swift movement and started walking towards the DJ table. She leaned over and whispered in his ear, glanced through his playlist before pointing to one and nodding. She smiled and patted the DJ on the shoulder before turning and walking back towards Maxwell.
“Alright, what was that about?” Maxwell couldn’t help but get excited as she approached him with a smirk on her lips.
“Something you will thank me for in a minute. I know you too well.” Rosie paused as the upbeat country song came to an end, then beamed as she heard the first few notes of . . .
“Thriller!” Maxwell exclaimed, laughing. “You know I can’t pass up doing the choreography for this!”
“I know. Now let’s get out there and show these folks how it’s done!” Emma grabbed his hand and dragged him to the middle of the dancefloor before jumping right into Michael Jackson’s infamous dance moves.
They danced in sync, gathering a few other dancers and a small crowd cheering them on. Maxwell couldn’t help but to laugh as they flowed through the movements and sang out loud.
As the song came to an end, Rosie came over to him and grabbed him in a big, sweaty hug and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. She stepped away, hands gripping his forearms and gave him a knowing look. “See, I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist! Thank you, I’ve been missing my dance partner tonight.”
He peered into her eyes and chuckled, still trying to calm his breathing as his heart rate slowed down. “No, thank you. I’m so glad you set that up, I needed that tonight.” As he finished speaking, a slower song started to play in the background.
“You know I’d do anything for you, Maxwell. You’re my best friend.” Her eyes twinkled as she gazed up him. “Here, dance this one with me while we catch our breath.” She placed his hands at her waist before looping her own around his neck.
Suddenly, Maxwell felt like a pubescent teen with his first crush. He feared she could feel his nerves pulsing in his veins through his fingertips or feel the sweat he felt beginning to accumulate on his neck. They swayed in silence for a while, then Rosie gently placed her head on his shoulder and nestled in close to him. And then he didn’t feel nervous anymore, he felt only . . . content.
“Maxwell?” Rosie asked softly. “I have a confession to make.” She didn’t lift her head, but continued to move with him and listen to his heartbeat.
“Hmm?” Maxwell felt his heart in his throat, anxious for what came next.
She paused, then took a deep breath before her confession. “I . . . I can’t marry Liam.”
With that he stilled. He didn’t move at all, couldn’t even remember how to breath. Finally, all he could say was “Oh?”
She pushed away from him and peered up at him with tears in her eyes. “No. No, I can’t, Maxwell. I’m so sorry. I don’t love him.” She inhaled a sharp breath, then continued. “I’ve always known I could only marry for love. I want to live the rest of my life with my best friend.” She looked almost as if she were questioning him, not making a statement.
Maxwell looked down for a moment, unable to speak. Finally he muttered “Bertrand will be disappointed. We will of course support you in whatever you need to do . . . . “ his voice trailed off. He gazed at her, then said softly “I just want you to be happy, Rosie.”
She took his hand and cupped his palm on her cheek. “I know you do. I’m your Little Blossom.” There was that look again. That look like she was asking him something . . . and suddenly, he panicked.
He dropped his hand to his side and stepped back. He stared at a spot on the floor next to her feet and cleared his throat. “I . . . I should go inform Bertrand. He will know what to do next.” He glanced back up at her. Was that disappointment in her eyes?
“Yes, of course.” She muttered. And with that, he turned and walked briskly out the door.
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The conversation with Bertrand had not gone well. As Maxwell had explained the situation, all Bertrand could speak of was “obligations” and “imminent ruin.” Geez, no pressure Bro, Maxwell thought.
As Bertrand plotted how to best remedy the situation, Maxwell’s mind wandered back to Rosie’s confession. He could still feel her in his arms, tucked in perfectly like the missing half of him. He remembered the asking in her eyes as she spoke, as she waited for his response. He heard her soft whisper. “I’m your Little Blossom.”
Suddenly he felt a surge of determination and purpose. You are in love with her, you idiot. Go tell her. He quickly stood up, startling Bertrand in the midst of his rant. Bertrand gave him an odd look. “She made up her mind, Bertrand. We need to let her live her life by her own rules, not ours.”
As Maxwell hurried toward the door, Bertrand shouted gruffly. “Where are you going? We need to devise a plan!”
“The plan will work itself out, Bertrand. Now I have somewhere I need to be.” He swooped through the doorframe without a look back at his perplexed brother.
At first he walked briskly towards Rosie’s room, full of resolve to share his feelings with her. But as he neared her door, he slowed down to pace himself and gain his composure. He stared at the door, frozen. This simple act of knocking, that he’d done so many times before . . . but this time, it was different. He took a deep breath, then knocked three times on the door and waited.
The room was silent, and he wondered if she’d not come home yet. But then he heard a faint shuffling, followed by footsteps and then the click of the door handle as she opened it. She looked surprised to see him, her brow furrowed in confusion. Her eyes were slightly red and puffy, and she sniffled a bit as if trying to hide the tears that she’d been crying. Yet to Maxwell, she’d never looked more beautiful. Her hair was disheveled and face bare of makeup, nothing to mask the red eyes and blotchiness. She was wearing a baggy long-sleeved “Cordonia U” t-shirt and pajama shorts and big fuzzy socks. She was a mess. A remarkably beautiful mess.
“What do you want Maxwell? Did you come to tell me how mad Bertrand is? How I ruined everything?” Her eyes filled with tears again and she looked away as she brushed them away with her sleeve.
“No. No. . . I mean, yes, Bertrand is mad, but . . .” he stuttered.
“Then what?”
He took a deep breath, exhaled, then blurted it out. “I’m falling in love with you, Rosie.” There, no going back.
She faltered at his statement, a perplexed look on her face as if he were speaking a foreign language. “What?”
Maxwell looked deeply in her eyes, trying to portray his intention as he spoke. “Look, I know I brought you here for Liam. To become Queen and to save House Beaumont. But somewhere along the way I started falling for you. You’re my best friend, and I can’t imagine . . .”
Rosie grasped his face in her hands and stood on her tiptoes to press her lips firmly against his. He stood there stunned for a moment, then wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back with relief. The kiss was passionate and fierce, a confession finally out in the open. Then as they slowed to catch their breaths, Maxwell began placing short sweet pecks around her lips, cheeks and chin, causing Rosie to giggle with happiness. They just held each other in a warm embrace for a moment before separating.
“I thought, tonight . . . I thought you didn’t feel the same way. I thought you were mad about what would happen to House Beaumont.” Rosie smiled up at him and traced a line from his eye down his cheek. “But deep down inside I hoped . . . I knew that you felt the same way.”
Maxwell bent down to catch her lips again in a slow kiss. “Of course you knew. You know me better than anyone.”
Rosie giggled. “If my intuition was off, then I should have at least known by your behavior earlier tonight. You couldn’t even look at me without blushing.”
“Did you see yourself tonight? Can you really blame me?”
“Well maybe I was hoping you’d look.” Rosie grinned wickedly, then placed her hand in his and pulled him forward. “Now, are you going to come in here or what?”
Maxwell didn’t blush this time, but let her lead him into her room willingly. “Of course, my Little Blossom.”
END