Ditched

Chapter 16

Max was sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine. It had a wedge of cheese, a bunch of grapes and a loaf of bread on the cover. It looked like a stuffy publication and so out of place in his hands. I was sure he was researching, judging by the serious looking little wrinkle between his brows as he read. I placed my arms around his neck and gave him a sideways squeeze.

His hands were both wrapped around the magazine so he just leaned into me.

“What’s that for?” he asked.

“Just to say thank you.”

He dropped the publication onto the floor. Then he looped his arm around my waist, dragged me over the arm of the couch and pulled me onto his lap. I fell with a little shriek.

“Now tell me what this is all about,” he said.

I shrugged, taking in his expression. His amazing eyes, the way he tilted his head to the side, just a bit. He always seemed so intent on hearing what I had to say.

It had been raining all afternoon. It had started out soft but had progressed hourly. I was thankful because Mike had decided to move on. Villette had been insisting he stay with them for a few days. With the rain slamming down, there wasn’t much to do here. So he’d finally packed up his bags and gone.

“I just wanted to say thank you. For everything. You’ve always been way too good to me. If you hadn’t let me come with you…If I’d stayed…I probably still wouldn’t have my head on straight. So, that’s what I wanted to tell you. Thank you for all of that. For being you. For just being a really good friend and a really good person.”

He tensed slightly underneath me and I worried I had said something wrong.

“Are you,” he frowned, “are you trying to say goodbye? Did you decide you’re ready to go home?”

I realized he looked equally parts startled and crushed at this possible revelation. But it could have been just because he’d gotten used to having me around. Used to having a roommate.

I shook my head and raised my eyebrows. “The thought of going home honestly never even crossed my mind.”

I felt his tension flow away even as both arms circled me, pulling me to him. I went willingly, returning the hug for possibly longer than necessary. The warmth of his body made me want to melt right there, in his arms. I buried my face in the space between his shoulder and his neck, wondering what he’d do if I started placing kisses there. I was too much of a coward to find out. I finally released him, just a bit, but I didn’t go far.

“Good,” he said, breathing out a sigh. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you said you were ready to go home.”

Thunder rumbled above us, and then the sound split the air with a crack. I jumped and he laughed. “You seem a little jittery,” he noted.

I shrugged. “Yeah, maybe.”

Max had hugged me more times than I could count over the years. He’d never pulled me onto his lap before. As I sat there now, I realized he’d likely just come to the same conclusion. He shifted uncomfortably but he didn’t move his arms from my waist, where they were loosely resting. So I made no attempt to get up. His face was so close I could feel his breath on my cheek.

“Is something bothering you?” he asked. “You look like you want to say something.”

I nodded. “I do. I want to tell you that you treat me way too good. I want you to know that I know that. And I appreciate it.”

He shook his head. “That’s not true. I just treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

The look on his face told me he meant it. Maybe he was right. Maybe I did deserve to be treated that way. What I did know for sure was that I was going to try my best to make sure it was reciprocated.

I was willing myself to say something right then. If I’d been in the same situation with someone other than Max—wondering how they felt—I might have just asked. But I was afraid to say anything because I didn’t want to ruin anything.

The fact that this was Max should’ve made it a hundred times easier to talk to him. Instead, the fact that this was Max made it a hundred times harder. I knew I was being a coward and he’d already given me so much. Yet, I wanted him to be the one to bring it up.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. It was obvious that he was concerned. His face was only inches from mine. His arms were still around me and I was still firmly planted in his lap.

I rested my head on his shoulder and said, “I’ve never been better.”



***



Eventually, I’d slid from Max’s lap and we’d put in a movie. There wasn’t a whole lot else to do with the weather behaving the way it was. The storm fluctuated from a light drizzle to a heavy deluge throughout the evening, never tapering off completely.

I’d been comfortably curled up against Max’s side. His arm had been firmly around me so I’d barely noticed the storm. I’d pretended it was because of the storm that I felt the urge to sit so close. Whatever my reason, he hadn’t seemed to mind. Every time I thought I’d built up the courage to say something, a wave of doubt hit, tearing it down.

I’d gone to sleep thinking about Max. I’d awakened myself thinking about him, too. In no time, the lovely thoughts of Max were jolted from my head.

When I awoke, it was to absolute darkness. My bedroom seemed eerily unfamiliar. I blinked a few times, trying to gather my wits. I could still hear the rain pelting, the waves crashing and the wind blowing. The only sounds I could make out were the sounds of nature. I realized I didn’t hear the hum of the air conditioner. My room wasn’t lit with the subtle glow from the red numbers of the alarm clock. There was no pale glow of the street light slanting in through my window.

It only took me a few seconds to realize the electricity was out.

I tugged the blankets up around my head. Though I’d been there for a month now, the room still didn’t feel entirely familiar. With the strange atmosphere created by the storm, the room suddenly felt creepy. It was crazy how dark a room could be. I blinked into the blackness and realized I couldn’t make out the outline of a single thing. The waves, which normally sounded so relaxing, didn’t sound peaceful in the storm. They sounded harsh and angry.

I burrowed down deeper. I wasn’t comforted, not even when the rain finally faded off again. The room was disconcertingly quiet. My breathing sounded far too loud and it seemed as though my eyes were never going to adjust to the blackness.

Before I could over think what I was doing, I tossed my covers off. I swung my feet over and then carefully felt my way to the bedroom door. I tiptoed across the hall to Max’s room, reaching out to find that he’d left his door open. I took small, shuffling steps through the darkness, finally bumping into the edge of his bed.

“Max?” I whispered. My voice sounded so loud against the silence. He didn’t stir so I tried again. “Max?”

I stood there for a moment, squinting into the gloom. The storm had pulled in cool air with it. My teeth were seconds away from chattering. I hesitated, wondering if I should just go back to my own room, or if I should wake Max. Or…if I could just crawl in beside him. I wondered if he’d care. He hadn’t seemed to care the other times we’d had to share.

I lifted the covers and edged my way in. I’d meant to stay on my side. Truly, I did. But having Max right there brought out everything I’d realized I’d started to feel about him the last few days. I wiggled across the bed, drawn by his warmth. I couldn’t see him in the darkness but I could feel him. He was lying on his back. I moved until I was pressed up against his arm. I ran a tentative hand across his chest.

Without warning, the rain started in again. It slammed against the roof.

“Max?” I tried again.

“Hmmm.”

I wondered what exactly I should say. What was the proper protocol for hopping into someone’s bed during the middle of a thunderstorm?

I moved my hand to his shoulder and ran my fingers down his arm.

“Mmmm,” he hummed the sound. “Please tell me I’m not dreaming,” he mumbled. He rolled over on his side as he pulled me closer. His fingers skimmed the hem of my short cotton boxer shorts.

“You’re not,” I told him.

His body tensed and his hand slid back up, so that it was resting on my waist. In his surprise, he held his breath for a moment. Then he blew it out. I couldn’t see him but I could guess he was trying to push his way through his groggy confusion.

“It’s storming,” I explained. “The electricity went out and I couldn’t get back to sleep. My room is way too dark. And quiet. It was creepy and I started to feel a little bit...nervous.” That sounded so lame. True, but lame.

“Oh.” He still didn’t move. We were both on our sides now, facing each other. His hand still rested on me.

I let a small laugh slip out. “Why would you think you were dreaming? Do you do that? Dream about me, I mean?”

I was aiming for a teasing tone but I knew I failed miserably. The words came out sounding exactly like what they were. I was digging for answers and trying to find a way to quench my curiosity. The question was met with silence. I realized I shouldn’t have blurted it out because the question was clearly loaded. I didn’t want to shoot the moment all to hell before it even got started.

When he hesitated, it sent my heart off in a frantic beat that resembled a game of hopscotch in my chest.

“Do you want me to go back to my room?” I whispered.

“Not necessarily. I was just…surprised you’re here. I didn’t realize you were afraid of storms.” His hand seemed frozen on my waist. As if he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“I’m not afraid of storms,” I denied.

“Okay,” he said, sounding amused. His thumb brushed against my bare skin and the hopscotching picked up its pace. “Then what are you doing here?”

“Maybe I am a little afraid of storms,” I admitted. The answer was as good as any. My hand had fallen from his elbow. It was now wedged between us. I lifted it, placing it on his bicep and sliding it up to his shoulder. His breath may have caught, or it may have been wishful thinking. “It’s not just that it’s storming. The electricity is out. So it’s dark. I mean like beyond dark. And my room is so quiet. And it’s really creepy and…quiet,” I pointed out, trying to grasp onto a tiny bit of dignity. The rain had stopped again, as if to prove my point.

“Storms, silence and the dark, it’s practically a trifecta of scary things,” he teased as I slid my hand a little further so I could run my fingers across the back of his neck. “If I’d known that’s all it would take to get you in here on your own, I would’ve flipped the breaker weeks ago.”

Despite hearing it from both Mike and Lanna, some small part of me had still refused to believe it. But Max’s comment caused relief to flood through me. Maybe there was a chance for us.

“Holly? You okay? I was kidding. I shouldn’t have said that,” he immediately backtracked.

“No, it’s okay. I was just thinking.” My voice was shaking. Did I really want to do this now? Yes. Could I do this? Because once I did, one way or another, it was going to change everything.

“You’re thinking about…?” Max prodded.

“How badly I want you to kiss me.” There, I said it.

Other than the sound of our breathing, there was nothing but silence—the amplified, silence—for several long seconds. I couldn’t decide if it was better or worse that I couldn’t see his face.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he finally said.

My hand slid away from him again as my heart slammed around. I started to back away. “I’m sorry…I’ll just…I’m going to…” I sputtered a few more half sentences before Max’s arm scooped around me. He slid me across the bed until my body was pressed against his again. He held me much closer this time. I was acutely aware of how little fabric there was between the two of us. I was sure he was too.

He didn’t say anything for a second as he rested his forehead against mine. “Sorry,” he breathed the word out. “I just needed a second to wake up. You really took me by surprise.”

“I know, sorry,” I whispered back. He still had his arm around my waist. I tentatively slid my hand up resting it on the back of his neck yet again.

He rubbed his cheek against mine. “You really want me to kiss you?”

My voice sounded embarrassingly breathless when I said, “Only if you want to.”

The last few days when I’d been thinking about kissing Max, or Max kissing me—and I’m not ashamed to admit, I’d been thinking of it a lot—I pictured it being gentle and sweet. I assumed if it ever happened, the kiss would be just like Max’s personality.

I was completely unprepared when it happened for real. The way he kissed me was completely unexpected. He kissed me like I was something decadent he’d been waiting for. Like he wanted nothing more than to devour me. I felt myself wanting him to. I wanted to be consumed. I found myself making little gasps for air every time his mouth left mine to explore another part of me. When his mouth came back to mine I couldn’t stop myself from moaning into it.

My body exploded into a sensation of pure bliss.

I couldn’t decide if I should be grateful for, or cursing the thin fabric between us. Max seemed to be having the same moral dilemma.

I ran my hands across the bare skin of his back as he toyed with the hem of my shirt. His hand slid up, skimming along my ribcage and then floated back down again. He gripped my waist and flipped me from my side onto my back. He rolled with me, so that my body was buried under his. His mouth never left mine. I gripped his shoulders, not wanting him to pull away, not wanting it to end.

I was sure at that moment that Max’s first kiss had ruined any other first kiss that might follow. I wasn’t sure, even then, that I ever wanted there to be another first kiss.





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