“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 so flipping 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.