#new nails

He always knew when Yn was close.

It wasn’t a sound exactly—more like a shift in the air, the feeling that the room was about to get warmer, brighter. When the lock clicked and the door opened, Max’s mouth tilted into a smile before he even looked.

“Hey,” he called, lazy and familiar.

“Hey,” Yn answered back, voice light, pleased with herself.

She stepped inside, shrugging out of her jacket, her hair glossy and styled just enough to look effortless. She smelled like that salon she loved—warm oils, expensive creams, a hint of something floral that always clung to her for hours after. Max watched her cross the room, eyes drifting down automatically to her hands as she dropped her bag on the counter.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just held one hand up between them, palm facing him, fingers spread.

Max sat up straighter.

“Oh,” he said, interest sharpening immediately. “New nails?”

Yn beamed. “Do you like them?”

He stood, crossing the space between them in three long strides. He took her hand carefully, like he always did when she had a fresh set, turning it under the light. The nails were perfect—elegant, glossy, a deep neutral shade that somehow still felt bold on her.

“They’re beautiful,” he said honestly. “Really fucking nice.”

He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, slow and deliberate, lips lingering just a second longer than necessary. Yn’s smile softened, her shoulders relaxing the way they always did when he did that.

“I knew you would,” she said.

Max grinned. “I always do.”

She laughed quietly, leaning back against the counter. “You should’ve seen the place today. It was packed.”

“Mm?” He let go of her hand reluctantly. “Busy day for being pretty?”

“Very busy,” she said, eyes bright. “Massage rooms were full, hair section was chaos. Even the nail techs were stressed.”

Max snorted. “Sounds like my nightmare.”

“You say that now, but you love that I go there.”

He shrugged, unapologetic. “I love when you spend money on yourself.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said simply. “You work hard. You deserve it. And…” His mouth curved. “I like knowing I pay for it.”

Yn laughed again, softer this time. “I know you do.”

She pushed off the counter and wandered closer, kicking off her shoes. “Anyway,” she continued casually, “you’ll never guess who I saw there today.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Lewis.”

The name landed lightly, tossed into the air like it meant nothing at all.

Max blinked. “Lewis?”

“Mhm,” Yn said, nodding. “He was in one of the chairs near the back.”

Max frowned, processing. “At the salon?”

“Yeah,” she said, too casually. “He was getting his braids done.”

Max stared at her. “Lewis?”

She bit her lip, clearly enjoying this. “Yes, Max. Lewis.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t know he went to that place.”

“Well,” Yn shrugged, “apparently he does. Or at least today he did.”

Max crossed his arms, eyes narrowing slightly, more confused than threatened—at least at first. “Did you talk to him?”

“A little,” she said, reaching into her bag. “We were sitting close. He was really nice.”

Max hummed, noncommittal. “He usually is.”

Yn finally pulled something out of her bag and held it out toward him between two fingers.

His credit card.

She smiled sweetly. “Here. You can have this back.”

Max looked from the card to her face. “Why?”

“Well,” she said lightly, “the nails were super expensive today.”

He chuckled. “That’s fine. You know I don’t care.”

“I know,” she said quickly. “But you don’t have to worry.”

Something in her tone made his stomach tighten.

“Why not?” he asked slowly.

Yn shrugged again, eyes sparkling. “Lewis paid for them.”

The room went very still.

Max stared at her like she’d just switched languages mid-sentence. “What?”

“He insisted,” she went on smoothly. “We got along really well, and he said it wouldn’t hurt his bank account anyway. You know. Because he has so much money.”

Max’s jaw tightened.

“Lewis paid for your nails,” he repeated, voice flat.

“Yeah,” she said. “Sweet, right?”

He scoffed. “No.”

Yn blinked, feigning innocence. “No?”

“No,” Max said, taking a step closer. “Why would he pay for your nails?”

She smiled wider. “I don’t know. He offered.”

“And you accepted?”

“Well,” she tilted her head, “it would’ve been rude not to.”

Max ran a hand through his hair, a sharp edge creeping into his expression. “That’s weird.”

“It’s just a nice gesture,” she said. “You always say money doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t,” he shot back. “But that’s my girlfriend.”

Yn’s eyes flicked up to his. “And?”

“And I don’t like him paying for things for you,” he said bluntly.

“Oh,” she said softly. “You’re jealous.”

He scoffed again. “I’m not jealous.”

She laughed. “You are.”

“I’m not,” he insisted, but his ears were already turning red. “I just don’t like it.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he said, stepping even closer now, crowding her space, “I’m the one who takes care of you.”

Yn looked up at him, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You don’t own me, Max.”

His gaze darkened—not angry, but intense. “I know.”

She reached up, tapping his chest lightly with one finger. “Then why are you so bothered?”

He grabbed her wrist gently, holding it there. “Because I don’t want anyone else thinking they can buy you things.”

Her smile softened, something warm and affectionate beneath the teasing. “He doesn’t think that.”

“How do you know?”

“Because,” she said, lowering her voice slightly, “I told him I have a boyfriend who spoils me rotten.”

Max paused.

“You did?”

“Of course,” she said. “And he laughed and said he could tell.”

Max’s grip loosened, but the possessive spark was still there, simmering. “Still.”

She slipped her hand free and leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “He said you must be very generous.”

Max smirked despite himself. “I am.”

She placed the credit card in his hand, curling his fingers around it. “And generous men don’t need to be jealous.”

He looked down at the card, then back at her. “Did he actually pay?”

She held his gaze for a beat.

Then she burst out laughing.

Max blinked. “What?”

“I’m joking,” she said between laughs. “I paid with your card.”

He stared at her. “You—”

“I just wanted to see your face,” she said, still laughing. “You should’ve seen yourself.”

He exhaled sharply, half-relief, half-annoyance. “You’re impossible.”

“You love it,” she teased.

He shook his head, then suddenly straightened, decision snapping into place. “Put on your jacket.”

Yn paused. “What?”

“Your jacket,” he repeated. “We’re going out.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Where?”

“To buy you a Birkin.”

Her mouth fell open. “Max.”

“I also have a lot of money,” he said firmly. “And it doesn’t hurt my bank account.”

She laughed. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I don’t care.”

“Max, it was a joke.”

He stepped closer again, voice dropping. “I don’t care.”

She looked up at him, caught between laughter and something softer. “You don’t need to prove anything.”

“I want to,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because I like when you have nice things,” he said honestly. “And I like when they come from me.”

Her teasing faded, replaced by something warm and real. “You’re insane.”

He leaned down, kissing her hard—brief but full of intent. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers.

“Go,” he murmured. “Jacket.”

She sighed dramatically, but she was smiling as she reached for it. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope.”

As he guided her toward the door, hand warm and steady at her back, she laughed softly. “You know I was going to pay you back anyway.”

He opened the door, leaning down to murmur against her ear, “You can pay me back later in the bedroom.”