Becoming His by Mariah Dietz
We’ve experienced uncharacteristically large amounts of rain this summer, something we Southern Californians don’t handle particularly well. I’m sure people around the country would laugh if they knew how excess rain literally immobilizes our city. Thus when Sunday arrives and the clouds and weather forecast promise rain, it isn’t even falling before half the family has called to cancel. Once the storm warnings start running over the TV and our phones, the rest of the family cancels as well.
“I sure hope the boys are bringin’ their appetites tonight,” Mom says, returning to the den where Kendall, Dad, and I are watching a movie. “Jenny just called, she said she and Lilly are going to stay another night and will drive back in the morning.”
I glance at Kendall. This means it will just be our parents, Jameson, Max, and Susan for dinner. She looks over at me and smiles reassuringly. Things have been going well between her and Jameson, and I figure if she can be at ease with this situation, then I should be as well.
Shortly after the movie Kendall and I make our way into the kitchen where I’m tasked with chopping vegetables for the salad. Kendall’s assigned with setting the table. Claps of thunder echo outside and the rain graces us with its anticipated appearance.
As I finish dicing a tomato, the doorbell chimes charging me with a nervous energy that has me spending far too much time trying to decide if I should go and answer the door. Mom looks at me from where she hovers by the stove checking on her lasagna with an expectant look that quickly morphs into confusion. I dismiss it and the doorbell, focusing on chopping a cucumber instead.
My dad clears his throat and makes his way to the foyer. I have no idea why I feel so nervous tonight. I know I’m being ridiculous and making this into a much bigger deal than it really is. I take a deep breath, willing myself to calm down.
Distracted by my little mental freak out, I completely miss what the three have said as my dad’s laughter alerts me that they’re in the kitchen.
“I hope y’all are hungry since your poor mom was called in. That means it’s just the six of us tonight,” my mom says, catching me up to speed. I notice her take a couple of steps, stopping beside me.
“It smells amazing in here,” Jameson says, taking a deep breath through his nose as I pile the cucumber into the salad bowl and reach for an orange bell pepper.
“It does,” I hear Max agree. “These are for you, Muriel, for having us over for dinner again.” The urge to look at him gets stronger, knowing he’s mere feet from me as I focus on gutting the pepper.
Mom jabs me with her elbow, and I glance over to see her eyes focused on the bar with a wide smile spread across her perfectly made-up face. I glance over to see what has made her so elated and my gaze immediately gravitates to Max. Our eyes lock for a quiet second before I look to my dad and then to Jameson standing beside him. Then my stare falls to the large bouquet of light pink flowers setting on the counter in front of Max. I look back to Max. He’s still looking at me.
“You got pink peonies?” Kendall gasps, descending the stairs. “How did you know?” When did you leave?
“They’re for Mom,” I instantly reply.
“It surprises me too.” Mom practically swoons as she scoops up the chunks of pepper that I chopped and drops them into the salad bowl.
“I understand the words you guys are saying, but they’re not making any sense, it’s like code,” Jameson says, looking around to each of us.
“Oh, it’s just ironic,” Mom answers, moving to place a tray of bread in the oven, “David has been gettin’ me flowers every Friday since we began dating, and when the girls were little they used to go with him to pick ‘em out. I always knew which girl accompanied him based on the flowers I received, each one had their favorite. However, when Ace went, I never got the same ones.”
“Until she saw those,” my dad interjects, pointing a finger to the vase of peonies. I stare down at the carrots that I just finished chopping, feeling slightly mortified by this story.
“These are your favorite?” Max asks.
I glance up, noting everyone’s attention is trained on me, and stop when my eyes meet Max’s. I nod.
Thankfully the timer for the bread goes off, breaking the moment. As my mom goes to retrieve the bread, my dad starts talking about an issue he’s run into with Clementine and signals for the guys to follow him to the den.
“Was that incredibly awkward for everyone, or just me?” I whisper to Kendall as inconspicuously as possible as she comes around the island to stand by me while I drop the remaining vegetables into the salad bowl.
“Just you,” she whispers. “Pink peonies!” She quietly squeals, gripping my arm as she does a small bounce on the balls of her feet. I brush her away and instantly hiss at her to be quiet.
“Come on, ya’ll, no more sports talk right now. We’re eatin’ dinner!” my mom calls, taking her seat at the far end of the table, across from dad’s seat.
“Ace, you fish?” Max asks, holding a picture of a seven-year-old me holding a halibut with my dad’s assistance since it was nearly as big as me and weighed more.
“You’re showing them pictures?” I groan, knowing full well there are at least a dozen pictures that could easily be classified as mortifying.
“Just that one. We were talking about fishing,” Dad answers as he takes his seat beside me with a grin. “Tell them about your fishing skills, Ace.”
I roll my eyes and laugh at the amused smirk on my dad’s face before I turn to Max and shake my head. “No, I don’t fish.” I reach for the picture frame Max still holds and set it on the table beside me, face down. “There’s a follow up picture to this one somewhere, as I bawled my eyes out, realizing the fish was going to die, and it was my fault.”
“But you eat meat?” Jameson asks.
“I know, it’s hypocritical. I just don’t deal very well with death. Later you can sit with Mom, and she’ll happily psychoanalyze the situation with you.”
“Why wait?” Kendall teases. I grab a chunk of carrot from the salad bowl and throw it at her, hitting her squarely in the chest.
“Kendall, no!” My Mom shouts quickly as Kendall reaches for a roll with every intention of retaliation. “There will be absolutely no food fights tonight!”
Kendall slowly lowers the roll to her plate. I know she hasn’t conceded—Kendall doesn’t know how to concede—so my attention continuously flickers to her as I listen to my dad.
“So, Jameson, did you grow up in Alaska?” I turn to watch Jameson’s reply, feeling slightly anxious about the subject of Washington coming up after the whole wedding incident. Before he replies, an olive plops into my lap and I turn my attention to Kendall and glare in warning. She instantly shakes her head, her eyes feigning innocence. She gestures to mom, who’s staring at Jameson waiting with rapt interest for his response. Her lips twitch as she fights a smile, and I narrow my eyes at her, waiting for her to turn and acknowledge me. It only takes her a moment before she does, and she widens her eyes in response, holding out her palms in innocence.
“Actually, I’m from Yakima, Washington. My parents own a fruit farm up there. I went up to Alaska to try something new.”
“I’ve never made it that far east. I’ve only ever been to Seattle. Is it pretty wet there?” Dad asks as mom begins plating pieces of lasagna, and I pass the salad bowl to Kendall. I quickly scrutinize her face looking for any trace of her being uncomfortable so I can change the subject, but neither she nor Jameson seem to flinch at the subject being posed.
“No, we’re on the other side of the mountains. Our summers are fairly similar to here, hot and dry. But it can get pretty cold during the winter.”
“Are you a skier?” Mom asks curiously.
“I grew up skiing with my parents, but then I started snowboarding when I was like twelve, and pretty much stick to that now. Do you guys ski?”
“No,” Dad says with a quick laugh as he shakes his head. “I can’t talk them into playing tennis. You really think I’m going to get them to go skiing?”
“I’d be up for hanging out in the lodges and drinking some buttered rum. Some of the snow clothes are pretty cute. Get some big scarves and boot socks.” Kendall looks over to Mom with a growing excitement.
“I’d be in there with you. I have no intention of strappin’ my feet to a board and sailin’ down any mountain to my death any time soon.”
“Oh, ma moitié, you’d start on a bunny hill, small falls.” My mom raises her eyebrows to him as if questioning his sanity, making Dad quickly change subjects.
“So, Max, have you decided which field of medicine you’re going to focus on?”
“I’m not positive. Right now it looks like either spinal or neurological.”
“We need new dinner guests, ones that make us look better,” Kendall teases.
I chance a glance at Max to see him still involved in conversation with my dad. I know Max is intending to apply for medical school this year. We’ve discussed this a few different times over the summer after he told me a story about fishing in Alaska and a really close call that his boat had encountered where he thought they were going to lose a crew member, and how that inspired him to help people the way his mom has. However, sitting here, hearing it again, it still catches me a bit off guard to take it all in.
“Ace has considered medicine,” Mom chirps, bringing me back to the conversation at hand. “She’s had some really excitin’ offers, but she needs to focus and make some decisions this year.”
I look up and try to give her a promising smile that seems to effectively placate her before turning my attention back to my lasagna. I slowly move a few bites around my plate, feeling a sense of unease at the mention of my impending decision. Discussing the future has a tendency to overwhelm me, and thinking of declaring a major this year makes me feel nearly nauseous. I’m only nineteen and obviously haven’t been exposed to all fields. How do I know what I’ll want to do in twenty years?
“She still has plenty of time.” I glance over at my dad giving me a reassuring smile as he reaches for his glass of wine.
I’m praying Kendall will change the subject. Usually she never goes this long without talking. But she’s staring intently at her salad, likely distracted with thinking of retaliation.
“So, Ace, where did this nickname come from? I hear we’re playing cards, and I need to know if there’s something I should be aware of,” Jameson asks.
“That’s a good question, I’ve never heard this. You’ve just always been Ace,” Max adds, tilting his head slightly as he looks at me with genuine interest.
“Oh that’s her daddy’s fault. He used to say everything was ace. It was his way of saying good. The girls all caught on, and when Harper was a baby she was always just the happiest little thing. She hardly ever fussed, and her daddy began calling her Ace, and it stuck,” Mom explains.
I look at my dad and smile as a cucumber sails down the front of my shirt. Turning to confront both my mom and Kendall, I see that they’re both working to suppress giggles.
“Seriously?” I eye my mom. She’s having a difficult time breathing. I shake my head and move the salad bowl away from their reach.
“What game are you guys going to play?” Dad asks, a small smile playing on his lips with amusement.
“I don’t know. They can choose,” I reply, looking at Max and then to Jameson. I catch sight of something flying through the air and am just able to lean back in time to see a chunk of tomato land squarely in the center of my dad’s chest, causing a smile to erupt on my face.
“Muriel!” He growls with a wicked smile. He tears off a chunk of bread from his roll and hurls it at her. Mom bursts into a fit of giggles and begins flinging the salad on her plate as fast as she can grab it. Saying my mother has bad aim is a gross understatement. Vegetables are flying, hitting everyone at the table. Many miss altogether and land on the floor.
Food fights are a fairly common occurrence in our house, but based on the expressions from both Max and Jameson, they’re not accustomed to spending meals hurtling their vegetables across the table.
My mom pauses, making my dad stop, and then she lunges forward, grabbing the salad bowl. She then turns her aim to Kendall and me.
“Mom, you always regret this!” I warn between giggles as I raise my hands to deflect the barrage of vegetables. Kendall and my dad are already throwing things back at her, while Jameson and Max are frozen, staring at us.
I pick up a small handful of vegetables from the table and throw them directly at Max’s chest. His jaw drops, making me laugh harder. I quickly scrimmage up another handful and chuck it at Jameson, turning before I can see his reaction as my mom begins throwing entire rolls in my direction. Bread and vegetables are flying as Jameson and Max join in.
Kendall and I definitely have the disadvantage. The boys aren’t about to throw things at our parents, and our parents are more than happy to team up. Mom retreats to the kitchen, returning with the economy sized bag of rolls. The four of them anxiously grab for the fresh ammo and sling them at us. I stand from my chair, turning my back to them, and hear Kendall push her chair back as well. The food suddenly comes to an abrupt stop, and I hesitantly turn to glance over my shoulder to see Max and Jameson stand from the table, looking devious as all hell.
Kendall screams as they begin stalking toward us and I follow her as we begin backing up, trying to gauge their intentions.
“I’d run if I were you two,” Mom teases.
I glance to Kendall and then take off. I hear her clamor up the stairs, shrieking, as I tear around a couple of corners and dash downstairs with Max uncomfortably close behind me. Once I reach the basement, I turn to face him with the pool table between us. Even with my pulse racing and my breath coming in quick spurts, a giant smile is painted across my face.
“Truce!” I laugh, holding out my hands in surrender. “I waive the white flag.”
Max shakes his head and the mischievous grin on his face confirms this is far from over. I slowly edge myself to one side of the table, and Max shadows my every move, crouched like a cougar as his eyes remain fixed on me. We do this dance for a couple minutes before he makes a sudden lunge across the table, catching me completely off guard. He’s nearly able to get my arm as it takes me a second too long to react. I fall to the ground and crawl under the table and then sprint down the dark hallway, ducking into Jenny’s old bedroom. I stoop beside her old armoire and pull my knees to my chest as I try to control my breathing. My heart beats so fast and loud I can hear it in my ears making me nearly miss the quiet padding of Max’s feet. I watch through the tiniest crack between the armoire and the wall as he creeps into the room. I stop breathing in fear that he’ll hear me and watch him stand in the doorway for a long moment before retreating just as quietly.
Slowly, I stand up, straining to hear any sign as to where he might’ve gone. I quietly make my way to the hall and catch sight of him as he walks into Mindi’s old room. For a split second I contemplate trying to scare him, but the knowledge that success in doing so will guarantee me a trip into the swimming pool stops me.
I quietly turn, keeping my eyes on Mindi’s room, and run into a solid object. I whip my head around as Jameson yells, “Boo!” Then I hear Max’s approaching steps.
Jameson releases his hold around my waist as Max heaves me over his shoulder and takes me back into Mindi’s room. I catch sight of Jameson as we cross the threshold, grinning happily over his shoulder as he makes his way back to the stairs.
Max drops me in the middle of Mindi’s old bed and doesn’t hesitate before he begins ruthlessly tickling my sides. I giggle and squirm, pleading for him to stop. Eventually he pauses, hovering above me, his eyes level with mine. “You threw vegetables at me!” He moves his hands to rest on either side of my head. My heart beats so hard it’s difficult for me not to focus on it, until Max leans a little closer, and the scent of him invades my every thought.
I stare at his dark hair that looks so soft my fingers itch to run through it. Slowly my eyes drop to his and I find that he’s looking at me with a promise of something that awakens every nerve ending in my body. It’s so intense I have to look away. My focus drops instantly to his lips as his tongue slowly rolls out, wetting them, and stirs the rush of emotions that are running through me like lava, lighting every inch of my skin on fire. I divert my attention to his jaw, where the hint of a five o’clock shadow dares me to run my fingers across it and feel its sharp contrast. My eyes snap back to his, which are locked on my lips, and for the first time in my life, I don’t weigh the options or overanalyze anything. The tiny voice I hear in the back of my mind when I make decisions, even inebriated, is absent.
I grip Max’s face with both of my hands and eagerly crush my lips to his as my fingers continue around the back of his neck, holding him to me as they lace together. My lips burn with heat as my body automatically arches to feel his as I experience my first taste of Max; it’s consuming and blinding, and more fulfilling than I could have possibly imagined.
A small groan climbs from the back of Max’s throat as I catch his lower lip with my teeth, encouraging me as I gently tug on it before lightly swiping my tongue over the same spot. I feel his arms press down on either side of my head as he begins to pull back from me, and my eyes flash open as the fear that I’ve just crossed a line that he didn’t want me to grips me. Before I can finish processing the thought, Max’s eyes open. They’re warm and heavy with lust as they search mine. The right corner of his lip quirks up in a half smile, and he reaches a hand to the back of my head, pulling my mouth to his, and takes over. There’s a silent demand behind his kiss that I instantly surrender to.
Max stands up, not breaking our kiss, as his hands run down my sides and over my hips. He clutches the bottom of my thighs in his hands, urging me to wrap my legs around his waist which I do without a second thought. He lifts me easily, pressing my body against his. My fingers run through his hair and over his neck, and I wrap my arms around him. I feel the wall at my back as Max’s left hand cradles my face, and his tongue slowly slides across my upper lip, making me feel half crazed. The urge to feel every inch of Max against every inch of my body consumes me. I ball my hands into his shirt, working to pull myself closer. His chin dips and his lips glide along the side of my neck, tracing the same path with the tip of his nose, before tightening his grip on my thighs and fusing his mouth back to mine.
“Ace!” Kendall’s voice carries down the stairs, startling us both and interrupting the most intense kiss of my life. Max lets out a deep breath, gently dropping his forehead to mine. His chest rises against mine in fast bursts. I can still taste his breath lingering on my lips, and I can’t stop my tongue from sliding out to savor it. My lips feel smoother and hyper sensitive, feeling his every breath and storing them each to memory.
Max takes in a deep breath as I reluctantly unwrap my legs from around his waist. His hands slowly lower me to the hardwood floors.
“We’re doing this,” he says, still keeping my body pinned against the wall, his eyes boring into mine. “No more excuses, it’s our turn.” Max dips his face catching my lips once more with his in a desperate kiss that has me wondering if Max is talking about sex here, or something more.
“Ace!” Kendall calls again, causing Max to take a step back as he sucks in a labored breath. The irony is not lost on me that if Kendall knew what we were actually doing down here she’d likely be barricading the stairwell.
“We should go. I don’t want your parents to ban me from your house,” Max says, running a hand over his hair.
I take a breath, still not able to speak after that kiss, and nod.
“I’ll follow you,” he says, taking another step back and gesturing toward the doorway.
“Don’t trust my self-control?” I tease, running a hand through my hair to ensure that it doesn’t reflect what just occurred.
My entire body tingles as his fingers graze the top of my cheekbone. My eyes lock onto his and I watch them shine brightly in the dim glow of the room. His fingers trail down my face, stopping when he reaches my jaw. He gently holds my chin and firmly presses his thumb to the center of my bottom lip, like he knows it’s burning. His eyes blaze with excitement, and rather than feeling relief from the coolness the pad of his thumb offers, the contrast sends an exhilarating current through me. How can one simple touch be so intimate? I try to focus on breathing when I hear Kendall yell my name once again, this time sounding more agitated. I take a deep breath as Max takes another step away from me, his hand slipping from my face as his eyes stay focused on mine.
“She’s going to come looking for you in a second.”
I nod, knowing he’s right and hating that fact. I take a few steps forward, slightly terrified to leave the safety of this room, fearing that once we step out of here the world will reappear and we will lose this moment, this attraction, and heat.
“Plus, this way I get a great view,” he says, lightly slapping my butt. Apparently Max isn’t too concerned.
“What’s taking you guys so long?” Kendall whines. She doesn’t look suspicious at all, just annoyed. I turn to face her, conjuring up my best look of innocence.
“Jameson says it’s either poker or twister.” Kendall dramatically closes her eyes. “There’s no way I’m playing Twister this sober, so we’re—” Kendall stops and tilts her head to the side looking from me to Max and then back to me again. Her chin angles a little further to the side as her eyes grow wide and her mouth forms into a look of shock and surprise.
“Oh my God, you guys finally—” Max’s hand wraps around my hip, pulling me against his side where he holds me tightly.
“Strip poker works for me too,” Jameson interrupts, rounding the corner with a deck of cards in his hand.
“They’re finally …” Kendall starts waving her hands in the air, making large gestures and then pressing them together. “I can’t believe it! That took soflipping long!”
Jameson’s eyes dance from Kendall to Max and me, the scar on his lower lip more pronounced from his giant smile.
Heat rises to my face as I try to return the smile when Max’s, Kendall’s, and Jameson’s phones all go off in a chorus of chimes and vibrations. I look over to Max as he fishes his phone out, and Kendall laughs, scrolling through her phone.
“Now we’re in trouble,” she says, holding her phone out to me. “Mom’s learning to text.”
I wince at the reality as I accept her phone. Our mother is technologically inept to the point it’s painful. Our Grandmother understands texting and computers better. My eyes scan over the message several times to interpret it through the spelling errors, and then I look at the picture she sent of the kitchen: a mess with food strewn across the table, chairs, and floor.
Mom: Sorry y’all missssed dinner we had one hell of a bottle tonihtg.
Their phones continue chiming as people start responding. The worst part of texts being sent to a group is everyone gets the replies as well.
“Who’s Tina?” Jameson asks, reading one of the messages. I look over to his phone, reading a reply from a California area code:
So glad ur texting, what did those girls do to the kitchen? Luv, Tina
“Probably someone she met at a grocery store five years ago,” I reply, only half joking.
“Why don’t we watch a movie? We’ll go to Max’s, no chick flicks tonight,” Jameson suggests, turning the volume on his phone down to silent as the messages continue to pour in.
I nod, glancing over to Max grinning, his fingers constricting as he pulls my back further into his side.
Once in Max’s basement, Kendall heads over to the stacks of movies and begins flipping through titles as Max goes on a quest for snacks, something that I’ve taught him is essential for vegging out. Though right now I don’t think I can eat anything. It feels like I’m going to take flight at any second from the swarms of butterflies in my stomach.
When Max returns with bags of processed sugar filled morsels, Kendall asks him to find some blankets. She stands beside me as Jameson gets the movie set up. I feel a little guilty that Landon is excluded, but Jameson assures us he’s content with a girl he met up in San Diego.
“Are blankets to hide wandering hands?” I tease, configuring my hand in the shape of a deformed spider and use my fingers like legs to crawl up her arm.
“I hope so,” she whispers.
I work to stifle my laugh as I shake my head at her.
“Mister pink peonies? God, seriously, I hope he rips your clothes off. Better yet, I hope you rip his clothes off.”
“Kendall!” I whisper, glancing back at the stairs to make sure Max hasn’t reappeared.
“What? Max is hot, and I have a feeling he’ll make sure you’re well taken care of.”
“Is this really the advice I’m going to get from my big sister?” I ask, not able to hold back the laugh that is half because I think she may be right, and half due to the embarrassment spreading through me like wildfire.
She rolls her eyes in return. “Enjoy it. He likes you, you like him! We’ll sit up front so you don’t feel like we’re watching.” She winks and then turns, slapping my butt.
“That kind of just turned me on,” Jameson admits, looking a bit dazed as he stares between us. I roll my eyes, tossing a throw pillow at his head as Max reappears, carrying an armful of blankets.
Making good on her word, Kendall grabs a blanket from Max’s arms and heads to the first couch, where they plop down in a heap with Kendall already giggling and shrieking.
I don’t know if Max senses my nerves. If he does, he attempts to vanquish them by grabbing a blanket and my hand and tugs me to the last couch pulling me down beside him. He casually drapes the blanket over our laps and stretches his arm over my shoulders so I’m a bit closer to his side.
The movie’s been playing at least thirty minutes before I realize I haven’t been paying attention to it. I honestly can’t recall a single scene or line. I’ve been completely lost in thought and I’m not even sure what I’ve been thinking about, just a big jumble of emotions, fears, and hopes that have been shooting through my mind like fireworks since our brief and heavy make out session.
My thoughts come to a halt as soft moans filter through the room from the direction of Kendall and Jameson, and I feel myself frown in disgust. The last thing I want to do right now is hear them doing … whatever it is that they’re doing.
Either Max understands, or has the same feelings. Taking my hand in his, he leads me to the stairwell. “The room’s yours,” he announces before heading up the stairs where we continue up to the second floor and into his room.
I haven’t been in here since Max was sick, and the memories of those three days hit me like an attack: Max’s comatose request for me to stalk him, the small pieces of him that I saw that had drawn me closer, and the hours that we lay together in his bed watching movies. My eyes flash to the bed and the familiar chocolate brown sheets. I’ve slept in those sheets!God I’m being a tween.
“Hey,” Max says, softly running a hand up my arm. I turn my attention over to him as he stands beside me, his brows knitting together as his eyes shift over my face. It’s his calculated, ‘I’m in your mind, reading everything you’re not saying’ face, and I smile to reassure him.
“We can go back to your house or go get some ice cream or something?”
I shake my head in protest. “No, really. I’m fine.”
“Ace, just because we’re in here, doesn’t mean … I mean I’m not expecting … anything.” His eyes are focused on mine. “Nothing is going to happen, unless you want it to.”
“I think that’s what makes me nervous.”
His eyes narrow with thought, trying to ascertain my admission.
“I really want this,” I quietly clarify, dropping my eyes to watch my thumbs and forefingers rub the hem of my green shorts.
Max’s hand gently wraps around my chin, and he lifts my gaze back to his. “I’m right here,” he says and then shakes his head. “I’m not going anywhere.” He lowers his face to mine and kisses me once, softly on the lips. I feel a magnetic pull to him that makes me want to irrationally wrap myself around him.
“Let’s put on a movie,” Max says, releasing my face as he makes his way over to his TV and I think about his words, I’m not going anywhere. Am I worried about him going somewhere? Is that what this flustering panic is about, that I’m afraid he’s going to leave? Maybe.
“How about The Bourne series? If you get tired of looking at me, I hear Matt Damon is fun to watch,” he says, flipping through some movies.
“Sure.” I sit on the edge of his bed and watch as he slides the movie in. Seeing his large hands being so gentle and nimble brings me back to all of the times I’ve seen him working on his motorcycle or on Clementine with my dad and Kyle, carefully moving with precision and expertise on pieces that seemed too small for his hands.
Max stands and grabs a remote as my thoughts return to the here and now as he heads back to me.
“Alright, this is a four movie series, which means for the next three nights you’re going to have to be over here watching the entire series,” Max explains, standing in front of me.
“Are you asking me for a four day commitment?” I tease.
“I’m just explaining the rules. If we start this, we’re not turning back. You need to make sure that you understand what you’re getting yourself into.” My eyes flash to his as the humor leaves his face and I realize he’s not referring to the next four nights. “No more trying to ignore your feelings and avoiding me.” I can’t tear my eyes away from his, which are staring at me with such intensity I’m tempted to sign away my soul and body if that’s what he’s asking for.
“Just you and me,” Max says, closing the last couple of inches between us. “But this decision is yours.” If only he knew that this decision was made long before this moment. “You need to say it,” he says, apparently sensing the fact that I’m preparing to agree to his terms with a kiss.
“You and me,” I repeat softly. “I understand.”
Max looks at me for a long moment, his blue eyes seeking something from mine. Apparently he finds it, because his face visibly relaxes, and then he closes the gap between us, pressing his lips firmly against mine with a new sense of urgency. The same heat returns filling my body with an undeniable fire that makes me feel like I’m going to combust.
Max breaks away and his eyes run a trail from mine to my lips several times before he grins. “It’s even better than I thought it would be.” My heart beats a bit faster at his words, increasing the need that I feel to continue this, continue kissing Max. He gives me a smile and turns to the TV, bringing the movie to life before climbing on the bed. He grabs my hand and gently tugs, motioning for me to join him, and I settle into the small mound of pillows at our back as he slips an arm around me, wrapping his hand around my hip and pulling me closer to him.
The movie plays for a while and I focus on paying attention to it. I’m even enjoying it, wondering why I’ve never watched the series before, when I notice Max’s hand fractionally move, tightening his grip on my waist, making my breath leave me in a sudden rush. I turn to Max and catch him looking at me with an intensity that tells me he’s the hunter and I’m about to be the prey as he watches my every move. The exhilaration of seeing him look at me like this washes all of my inhibitions away and before I can think twice about it, I swing my leg over his lap, straddling his waist and find his lips.
Max’s lips meld to mine and a small groan escapes as desire builds inside of me like I’ve never felt.
I’ve kissed a decent number of guys in my life. The first couple, and then a few later on, had made me wonder why people kiss; they had been messy and forceful, leaving me with the strong desire to brush my teeth. Most had been fun and taught me to really like kissing, feeling a boy being soft and tender was something I enjoyed the thrill of, and knowing that they wanted me had fueled me to kiss guys sometimes even though I had little interest in them. Kissing Max is something entirely different. I’m not thinking, I’m reacting, like a puppet being directed by his body, his mouth, and his hands, which move over me burning a brazen trail in their wake. All I can think about is how I can get closer to him, touch more of him, taste more of him.
He turns his head and makes a soft trail to the sensitive skin behind my ear that he had found in the basement. Shivers course through me as he continues down to my collarbone and my hands drop to his waist, where I tug on his shirt, trying to rid the barrier. Max pulls back and quickly peels it off tossing the wad of cotton against the wall behind me, where it falls with a nearly silent hush to the floor. I look down at his body and watch as his broad chest rises and falls with his breaths, tracing over the tattoos that wind from just above his elbow to his shoulder and down around part of his chest with my eyes before looking back up to his face. His eyes are filled with fervor and excitement that fills me with a similar effect to taking straight shots of vodka. I reach for his shoulders and pull his face back to mine where I close my lips over his.
As the kiss deepens, my hands travel across the contours of his chest and stomach until they reach the V-cut that is so perfectly prominent along his hips. A growl cuts from Max’s throat that only serves to build my excitement. His hand captures both of my wrists and he pulls back, dusting a line of kisses across my shoulder, before he leans back and creates a barrier of air between us that suddenly seems nearly impenetrable from the havoc he wreaks on my nerves and emotions.
“We have to slow down.” His voice comes out husky and thick, and I slowly nod in response, not certain of how else to respond.
“Ace, I’m not looking for you to be one of those girls. You’re different.” My mind begins racing in an attempt to understand every possible explanation this vague sentence holds.
“Talk to me. Stop over analyzing things and talk to me.”
“You don’t want me.” My words are a statement, not a question.
Max shakes his head with a small chuckle, “I’m going to be beating myself up for the next decade for stopping us here.” He gently reaches up and runs his thumb down the side of my face.
“Is it because you know?”
“Know what?”
“I’ve never … that I’m a virgin,” I say, nervously toying with the sheet.
“Kyle really is going to kill me,” Max groans, leaning back against the pillows. “You’re a virgin?” he asks a bit too loudly. “How in the hell did that happen?”
“What do you mean how did that happen?” I ask, feeling slightly indignant. “Kendall told you that I was at the bonfire.” I scoot further back, the gap growing between us.
Max grabs my hips and pulls me closer, shaking his head. “No she didn’t.”
“Yes, she did. When you asked if Eric was my first.”
“I didn’t realize she meant you were a virgin! I’m sorry, it’s just in high school, I knew tons, like seriously ridiculous amounts of guys from school that were infatuated with you! You dated a good number of guys, I just assumed …” I look at him and shake my head slowly. “We definitely need to slow down then. I mean, really, that could have gone, and then …” Max’s words cut off as he gets lost in thought. “Ace, I don’t want you to be just some girl. You know that right?” He carefully watches my eyes, waiting as I absorb his statement. “We’re doing this, you and me, we’re dating. I want to be the guy your parents and you trust and respect.”
“Then we may have to create a three-foot rule, because I feel like I’m trying to corrupt you or something over here.” This time when I scoot back he allows me to do so and runs a hand down his face.
“You’re really a virgin?”
“You say that as if it’s the biggest mood killer,” I say, frowning.
“No, believe me, it’s far from a mood killer. I just never expected it.” he says, taking a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter though, I wasn’t going to allow things to go that far tonight regardless.”
My eyes travel from Max’s face, down to his bare chest, and I grab another pillow from beside me and place it between us.
Max laughs, grabbing it. He tosses it to the wall his shirt had hit. “I want things to be different with you.”
“Are you, Max Miller, telling me that you want to have an emotional relationship with me, prior to having a physical one?” I ask, turning my eyes to his face.
“I’m telling you, Harper Bosse, that I want to learn everything about you, and I want us to be able to have a strong enough relationship that when I piss you off … because that will happen on occasion and when it does, you and I have something stronger than sex that will help us get through it.”
“You are such a girl,” I tease.
Max grins at me. “I blame Jameson, he looks like a dude, but really, that guy probably has more estrogen than your entire house.”
I laugh and then start thinking about Max’s previous relationships; it never seemed like any of them stuck around long, prompting me to my next question. “So how long is slow?” I ask.
“I don’t know, a while,” Max says, shrugging. “A month or two, maybe more?”
“You’re serious?” My eyes widen in shock and disappointment. That wasn’t the answer I had been expecting.
“I’m going to make sure you don’t regret it.”
I sag into the pillows in defeat. Honestly, I’m glad he stopped us. The fact that Max respects me enough to not want to have sex right away, even when he hadn’t known that I’m a virgin speaks volumes to me. However, there’s a frustration brewing in me that makes it difficult to focus on being rational.
We watch nearly the entire movie with our full attention. Well, nearly our full attention; occasionally something breaks our focus, like when I try to resituate to get my phone out of my back pocket and accidentally scoot a bit closer to him than I’d intended and feel Max’s muscles tighten. At first he does nothing to my disappointment, so I press back even further into his pelvis and feel his breathing stop for a moment before he surprises me by rolling me onto my back and straddling me, locking both of my hands in one of his above my head and kissing the hell out of me.
Once, I’m not even trying to catch his attention and simply brush some hair back that tickles my neck, then I’m being pulled on top of him, his hands splayed over the curve of my hips.
“I should go home.” My voice is soft as the credits finish and the screen goes dark. Really, the last thing I want to do right now is leave, even if nothing more happens. Just staying right here in Max’s warmth with his scent enveloping me makes me resist wanting to ever move again.
“I’ll text Kendall and find out what she’s doing.” I grab my phone off his nightstand and prop myself up on my elbow to text her, trying to remain in our cocoon as long as possible.
Me: Hey, you still awake? We should probably go.
I hit send as Max lightly trails the tips of his fingers over my shoulder and down along my spine making goose bumps erupt over my skin. I watch as he smiles, his eyes seeming to notice the effect he has on me.
I climb out of bed knowing that if I don’t, it will be me that tries to cross the boundary line again.
“Jameson and I are going to San Diego tomorrow … or today to bring a couple of car loads up. I should be home by like five. Do you want to grab some dinner with me?” Max gently holds both sides of my face in his hands and moves my head up and down in a nodding motion.
I laugh, cupping my hands over his. “I’ll be here.” Max grins, softly kissing me once more as my phone buzzes indicating a text message.
Kendall: Ready when u r ... Anxiously aw8ing details.
“Your entire family is going to know when slow ends, huh?” Max asks, making no attempt to hide the fact that he just read my screen.
“That is a risk.”
“Talk about pressure,” he jokes, heading to retrieve his shirt from the floor.
Downstairs we find Kendall and Jameson making out against the wall in the foyer. I step around them to slide my feet into my flip flops before returning to Max. Grasping his shirt in my fists, I give him one last kiss.
“Say ‘goodnight, Jameson,’” I instruct, stepping around Jameson and Kendall again and opening the front door.
“Goodnight, Jameson,” Kendall mumbles, still kissing him, making no attempt to move as I head outside.
When I get up to my room I turn on the lights and see Max at his window, looking at me. I smile and wave, crossing the room and open it.
“Goodnight, Ace.”
“Goodnight, Max.” I call and leave the window open as I go and change and brush my teeth to get ready for bed.
Max’s light goes off shortly after mine, and I lie in my bed hardly able to sleep as the excitement of the last few hours runs through my head on repeat.