Becoming His by Mariah Dietz
The next morning I open my eyes and see Max’s face inches from mine, his eyes still closed. I stare at him, memorizing every minute detail—every line, every curve, every eyelash. There’s nothing extraordinarily special about this moment, nothing significant and earth-shattering, yet I know instinctually that I’ll remember it and how Max makes me feel for the rest of my life.
Imust have drifted off again. When I stretch my arm out to touch Max and feel nothing but cool linen, my eyes pop open and glance toward my attached bathroom to find the door wide open and the lights off. I incoherently mutter my disappointment into my pillow before I climb out of bed and check the rest of the apartment with no sign of him. I check my phone to ensure there aren’t any messages before going to take a shower, deciding that Max must have gone with Jameson to work out. My mom’s right; our generation has missed out since pen and paper is archaic.
I finish rinsing the shampoo from my hair as the shower curtain slowly opens, making me scream and flail in a maneuver that I’m sure is anything but sexy.
“Sorry, sorry!” Max says, trying to hide a smile. “I was just going to see if I could join you, not scare you.”
“Did you not watch Psycho?” I cry, feeling my heart race through my palm clinging to my chest.
“I’m surprised you have,” he teases.
I splash a handful of water at his face and chest. “Get in here, Norman Bates.” He laughs and pulls off his clothes with a couple of swift movements before getting in the shower.
My eyes travel over Max, etching every detail of him into my mind that I wasn’t able to see earlier this morning. He’s so beautiful it’s difficult for my eyes to focus on a single spot as they rove over his face and body, devouring him.
“Where did you go?” I ask, reaching for the conditioner as I shrink back so I take up as little room as possible. Shower scenes in movies have both characters looking flawlessly beautiful with water cascading over them, making them look sensual and sexy. Glancing over at Max, it confirms that he could easily do one of these scenes. However I can feel my wet hair sticking to my shoulders in thick clumps, and there’s a pretty good possibility that I have raccoon eyes from my mascara, plus the obvious fact I’m naked, surrounded by very bright fluorescent lighting. Thank God I already shaved.
Max intercepts my reach for the conditioner. Opening the bottle, he pours some into his palm. “Coffee and muffins.” He nods at me, eyeing my hair. I look at him, seriously considering objecting to this idea, when he holds up his other hand and extends his index finger down and turns it, indicating for me to turn.
He gently rubs the conditioner through my hair, massaging my scalp with the pads of his fingers, and I feel myself relax against his touch.
“No more disappearing acts for you either.”
His hands fall to my shoulders and I tilt my head back, basking in his touch.
“I didn’t disappear. I was gone less than fifteen minutes. You weren’t supposed to wake up.” His lips graze along the tender skin behind my ear, leaving a soft trail of nips and kisses along my shoulder, making my heart race faster than it had when he’d startled me.
He grabs the sides of my shoulders and turns me to face him. His hands run down to my hips, where he softly clutches and walks me back a couple of steps so I’m under the shower head. I close my eyes and reach up to rinse my hair and hear Max let out a small groan.
“I have to get out of here or I’m going to attack you,” he says gruffly.
I open my eyes and feel the water running down my face to find he’s gone to the far end of the shower and grips the shower curtain, prepared to get out. I cross to him and press my body against his and kiss him.
“I need to go get a condom,” he says, pulling back from me.
I grab his wrist and he looks at me and shakes his head. “Max, I’ve been religiously taking the pill since I was fourteen. The statistical probability of—”
He interrupts me by pressing his lips to mine. He pulls back slightly and cups my cheek in one of his large hands that feels hot against my skin while his bright blue eyes lined with dark lashes shine with dampness from the shower and hold mine. “One day, I want you to wear nothing but that expression and use more phrases like statistical probability.” His voice is thick as he leans down and kisses me again. Hands glide down my sides, falling on my lower back as he takes another step closer to me. My mind begins spinning, wondering how in the world this works as the overwhelming sensation of clumsiness fills me.
“Stop thinking.” Max growls.
My eyes flash open, wondering how in the world he knows I’m contemplating this entire scenario. He stops kissing me, pulling his head back so he can stare into my eyes as I watch him read me.
“Would you rather—” I shake my head before he can finish, diligently working to tune out the visions of us falling and breaking our necks in here. I place my hands on his shoulders and press my mouth to his as I lean further into him. He groans a deep, throaty moan that I feel against my lips. His hands grip the back of my thighs, silently urging me to wrap my legs around him. As I do, I wonder if every girl fears that they feel like a whale in this situation. My thoughts cease as I feel the cold tile against my back and Max’s heat against my front. He deepens the kiss, and my excitement and need consumes me as I run my hands over his short hair, trying to pull him closer to me.
“There’s nothing sexier than seeing you turned on,” Max rasps.
I open my eyes to see him looking at my face hungrily.
“God, I want you,” he whispers, shoving himself further against me. His words and arousal are enough to make my entire body clench with need, causing heat and pressure to burn low in my belly.
I lean forward and kiss along his jaw, feeling the prickly roughness from his scruff, and it excites me even further. I arch my body against his, silently begging him.
“Tell me you want me.” Max’s voice is a pleading whisper, and I pull back slightly to look at his face and see doubt in his eyes that I don’t understand nor recognize.
I place both of my hands on his face staring into the blue abyss where I completely lose myself and any inhibitions that I have left. “I want you,” I softly confirm, tightening my legs around his waist. “I want all of you, Max,” I whisper, dropping my hand to land on his chest over his heart, feeling the warm steady beats accelerate.
Max closes his eyes, accepting my words, and when he opens them I find a resounding calmness as he squeezes my thighs and pulls me back slightly before plunging inside of me, taking the air from my lungs as he kisses me with an immeasurable amount of hunger.
We never make it to the park. Max leaves the confines of my bedroom only once, and that’s to answer the door when we order Chinese takeout late in the afternoon.
We spend the rest of the day lazily sprawled out on my bed like it’s a sanctuary, taking time to slowly and thoroughly study one another’s body and the reaction from each part as it’s nibbled, kissed, sucked, and licked in a mind-blowing, tantalizing experience. Periodically we speak, whispering secrets and truths, dreams and fears. It’s the most perfect afternoon of my entire life.
The next day I walk into Philosophy and take my seat, smiling to myself as I unpack my laptop. Fingers drum along the edge of my desk and I look up to see Wes giving me a tight smile. I’m sure the shock on my face is evident as he sits at the desk that has been unoccupied on my left as his smile grows.
“Hey, stranger. Hey I just wanted to—”
Thankfully Professor Parker walks in before he can finish. I feel my eyebrows furrow, trying to understand what he’s doing in here, but Professor Parker doesn’t seem surprised by his presence at all.
When class ends I again wait for Nate to get up before I stand, grab my bag, and head outside while reaching for my phone. I see that I have a text from my dad when I hear someone approaching me.
“Ace, hold up a sec.”
I look over my shoulder to see Wes and don’t slow my pace as I continue toward the track.
“Okay, so this is really awkward,” he says, and I stop, turning to allow him to finish because he’s right, this is really awkward. If he wasn’t one of Max’s friends I would probably keep walking but we need to clear things up. “I had no idea.” He starts again. “I mean, he’s mentioned you several times, but I didn’t realize that Ace was short for Harper.”
“It’s okay,” I say, shaking my head. “It really isn’t important. I just want us to forget about it and pretend it never happened. I won’t leave him, Wes. We have a really great thing between us.”
“You didn’t tell him, did you?”
“No,” I answer, glancing ahead at the field, feeling a bit ashamed that I didn’t. “I don’t want to harm your friendship, and I’m going to assume you have no intention of harming my relationship.”
Wes nods in understanding. “I swear. I would never do that to Max. We’ve known each other for like ten years,” he explains, placing one hand on his chest to display his sincerity.
“Then there’s nothing to tell.” I shrug as I turn to head toward the track again.
“Maybe we could go running together. Try to be friends, since I’m going to be around Max and all.”
I stop and glance over my shoulder and see his hopeful expression. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Wes. You’re Max’s friend.”