Becoming His (14 page)

“Let’s see if there’s a back door.” I plead as several more guys begin running toward the commotion, throwing punches and yelling.

Max looks at the chaos ensuing and nods. As he turns, his hand readjusts to my hip, and his long calloused fingers wrap around me. The feeling shoots a foreign surge of energy through me, distracting me from the task at hand.

“Lead the way, Captain.” Over all of the chaos, Max’s deep voice becomes a singular sound for me as I feel his lips graze the shell of my ear.

I focus on working our way against the crowd of people that have now come to either observe or participate in the growing fight.

“This way.” Max tightens his grip on my hip and steers me to the right. I look over and see a set of glass French doors leading outside and take Max’s hand in mine as I head toward them.

We make our way out into the dark night. Most of the blinds in the house are closed and the darkness seems utterly endless as my eyes work to adjust to the contrast, my ears ringing as they do the same.

Max’s hand loosens around mine, and I automatically release my grip and turn to face him. He’s right behind me, closer than I’d expected, and I’m surprised to see the distinct look of ire across his face forcing me to take a step back. His scent that I’ve become so drawn to over the past several weeks is more distinct now that we aren’t surrounded by so many people. It causes a contrasting emotion to his visible anger that I’m scrambling to prepare for.

“What in the hell was he thinking bringing you to a place like this? And he left?” he yells. “Why in the hell did you agree to come here? Do you know what goes on at these parties? Did you drink anything?”

I shake my head, feeling slightly offended by his accusation. “I’m not an idiot, Max. We were here like fifteen minutes and then I lost him.”
Or he lost me
… I silently wonder why in the hell he would ask me to come here with him and then leave me.

“I’m going to kill him!”

“Why waste your time?” I mutter, nervously gliding my fingers up and down my outer thighs, following the seams of my jeans.

“Why in the hell are you wasting your time with him? The sex can’t be worth all the other shit.”

“Let’s just go.”

“I’m serious, Ace, if I see his face around, I’m going to break his fucking jaw,” Max promises.

“Fighting’s barbaric,” I reply, annoyed that he’s suddenly turning his macho side on.

“What?”

“Barbaric. Ruthless, savage, wicked, cruel. Fighting. Is. Barbaric.” Max looks down at me and the storm that has been stirring in his eyes slowly recedes.

“Would it be barbaric if I run him over with my Jeep?” he asks, raising that single eyebrow again.

“We can discuss it on the way to the bonfire.” Max falls into step beside me, placing a hand to the small of my back as I hear a quiet chuckle escape him. I try with an exhausting level of effort to not look over at him and lose to the crushing desire to see his face while he’s laughing.

W
hen we reach the bonfire it’s inescapable that Kendall’s had too much to drink, and I instantly feel guilty. I look over to see how Jameson’s fairing with it and am interrupted with Kendall’s angry spew.

“You’re dumping him!” she cries, spotting me. She’d been distracted when we first arrived, loudly talking to a couple of people still standing beside her.

I cringe, hoping some sensibility of not discussing my personal life in this forum dawns on her. Quickly.

“I know, I told her even if he’s great in bed, it’s not worth this shit.”
That’s not going to help deter Kendall.

She turns to Max. “Like Ace would know!”

“No way, he’s not your first!” Max doesn’t pose this as a question, but rather a fact, and Kendall stares at him for a long moment, filling me with unease.

“Who are you to judge? You’ve slept with
how many
girls?” I watch the girls beside her turn their attention to us, obviously intrigued. Although I’m relieved to have the attention diverted from me and my sexual encounters, or lack thereof, I really don’t want to discuss Max’s either.

“If he’s your first, I’m really going to kill him, barbaric or not.”

“He’s not her first!” Kendall shouts, making me cringe.

“Shhh!” I hiss, grabbing Kendall’s arm and looking over to Jameson pleadingly. He’s staring at me as if lost in a trance, and I roll my eyes at him, realizing he’s probably drank too much as well.

I’m not sure why the idea of my virginity being known to Max, or anyone else for that matter, embarrasses me exactly. It’s something I’m proud of in many ways, but I suddenly feel very young and inexperienced, and the combination makes me feel a strange sense of inferiority.

This almost instantly makes the logical side of my brain irate. I know without thinking this is in no way true, and I feel annoyed with both Kendall and Max for so publicly discussing this.

“This is none of your business. Either one of you.” I glare between Max and Kendall.

“Did you at least ask him about the other girl?” Kendall’s voice is hesitant and filled with pain as she looks at me waiting for my reaction. I can’t believe Jenny mentioned seeing Eric with another girl to Kendall and didn’t warn me about it! I look back at her impassively.

“He’s cheating on you?” Max’s eyes widen and his voice rises. “Why are you still dating him?”

“Because she doesn’t care about him. She never has,” Kendall answers, ignoring my look of contempt. “But seriously, Ace, you’re going to let him embarrass you? I don’t get it!”

“Kendall, this isn’t the place to discuss any of this. You’re drunk, and—”

“It’s because of me, isn’t it?” she whispers, grabbing my arm. “I teased you for being a serial dater. That’s why you haven’t pulled the trigger!”

“It has nothing to do with you,” I snap, pulling my arm away from her. “Neither of you need to worry about it. I’m fine.”

“But—” Kendall begins to object with a look of fury on her face.

“Kendall, you’re drunk and yelling about my personal life in front of everyone. No. I’m not discussing this here or now.”

“Ace—” Max starts, which only elevates my frustration.

I take a couple of steps back. “I appreciate you coming to get me, but I’m done. You guys have fun.” I turn around and head back to the house with the intention of calling a cab home.

I make it to the house before realizing my cell phone is locked safely in Max’s Jeep.

I slump into a patio chair on the front porch with a sigh, letting my anger for Max and Kendall distract me from facing the fact that I need to end my relationship before things get more complicated.

“You didn’t make it very far.” I look up, surprised to see Jameson. “Kendall can be loud as fuck when she’s drunk. I realized this was one of the times that you were referring to. I’m sorry I didn’t help. I was distracted by my light bulb moment.”

“A drunken epiphany, great. I can’t wait to hear it.” I groan, leaning my head back on the chair.

“I’m a little buzzed now, but not drunk.”

“What was your light bulb moment?” I ask, not caring to get into the details of his inebriation level.

“You like Max.”

I straighten in my seat and look at Jameson, suddenly very interested in his inebriation level, hoping he really is drunk so there’s a chance he won’t remember this or that I can possibly distract him. Drunk people have amazingly short attention spans.

His hazel eyes are sharp as they stare at me. I watch the recognition dawn on him and know instantly that I’m screwed.

“I knew it!” He quietly cheers. “So, you’re staying with your loser boyfriend to pull the shade down on everyone from realizing you like Max. Why?”

“Because,” I answer with a groan, dropping my head against my forearm resting on the table.

“So you’re still trying to pull the shade on yourself as well. Great, we’re really starting at square one here.”

I glare at him as I lift myself back up.

“Why don’t you want to like Max?”

“I’m not Max’s type.”

“Have you considered letting Max make that decision?”

“He’s my neighbor, Jameson. My neighbor that up until a month and a half ago I’d barely spoken to. If I tell him I like him, it will make things really awkward.”

“He likes you! But he’s not going to act on it until you dump the douche.”

I scoff, closing my eyes against my arms, trying to resist allowing myself to hope that he’s right.

“Seriously. If Max knew you had feelings for him, he’d be all over that.”

“I’m not Max’s type, Jameson,” I repeat, sitting up to face him. “I don’t hookup and bounce from one guy to the next.”

“According to Kendall you date guys you aren’t that interested in. Maybe you both need to try something new.”

“Look, I really don’t want to discuss this tonight. Any of it, Eric, Max, sex, none of it. I just want to go home. Can I borrow your phone?”

Jameson fishes his phone out of his pocket and keeps a firm grip on it as he places it in my hand until I meet his eyes.

“Just think about it.” I open my mouth to protest, and Jameson shakes his head. “Don’t just be logical about it.”

Thankfully of the ten numbers I actually have memorized, I’m able to get a hold of Jenny, who comes to get me with few questions. When we pull up to our parents’, she looks over at me and smiles warily before she offers me one piece of advice. “I’m not really sure why you’re holding on to this one, Ace. We both know you don’t need a man to be successful, or to define you, or for anything else. You’re a strong, smart, and beautiful woman, and I hate to tell you this, but he isn’t bringing out those qualities in you, babe.” She turns off the car and opens her door before I can respond or ask about her and Paul. It’s obvious things still aren’t going well since she’s staying here.

F
eeling stubborn, I head to see Eric the next day. I plan to confront him about the girl, and the party, but when I get there he beats me to it. I listen as he profusely apologizes giving me the same excuse I’ve heard countless times over the last nine months—a printing error occurred and he had to leave. He continues, explaining he thought Kendall would be able to come get me since the bonfire was so close.

I know I should probe further, demand more of an explanation than the lame one resembling a colander with all the holes it bears, but I don’t. I sit beside him on his suede designer couch as he flips through the channels and try to banish Jameson’s words from my brain—where they’ve been replaying all night.

“W
hat do you think they’re going to do? I don’t understand what they’re trying to accomplish,” I comment, turning from the news station he’d turned on.

Eric’s head is down, his thumb racing across the screen of his phone, completely distracted and obviously preoccupied. A fleeting thought passes through my mind as I wonder if it’s the girl Jenny had mentioned.
What the hell am I doing?

“I’m pretty sure you’re the one that wanted to watch this.” I’m annoyed as I glance at the clock on the wall, which tells me I’ve only been here a little over two hours. It feels like it’s been days.

Apparently he doesn’t realize I’m talking to him and not the coffee table. My anger builds as the realization that even if I’d been speaking rhetorically, he should still be paying attention.

“Eric,” I snap, narrowing my eyes on him.

Eric’s fingers pause as he tilts his head up and raises his eyebrows without tearing his eyes from his phone. Even without fully looking at me, I can see the clueless expression on his face and I find myself picking at every detail of him. I hate this expression, and I know it well; he’s trying to look boyish and innocent, and instead I just find it unattractive and dense. I look at his cheekbones that seem almost hollow, and his eyes which look more like murky pond water rather than the soft, warm caramel I’d thought when we’d first met.

“What are you doing?” I demand, and for the first time I don’t really care that I sound impatient and rude.

“Just checking on things. Did you need something?”

“Checking on what
things
?”

“Things you’re too pretty to worry about,” he replies, trying to pacify me with a grin that I begin mentally critiquing as well.

I let out a sigh and stand up. “Alright, well I’m going to go.”

“Where are you going?”

“Home,” I answer almost vehemently as he stands up beside me.

“Why are you leaving?”

“Because you’re not even paying attention! You’ve said all of twenty words to me in the last two hours.”

“Harper, you’re being needy,” Eric says with an exasperated sigh.

“Needy?” The word feels foreign and uncomfortable leaving my mouth. “Needy!” This time I nearly spit it. “You think expecting you to pay attention to me is needy?” A laugh follows my words as I look to the ceiling in disbelief. “I’m going home.” I grab my purse and head toward the door.

He doesn’t object or follow as I wrench it open and head to my car.

W
hen I arrive home I’m still seeing red and kick myself for not clearly ending things when it had been the perfect opportunity.