Becoming His (32 page)

“I appreciate that, and I’m sorry for my escape. It was childish and not the right way to resolve things.”

“But …”

“You know Nathan Hudson means absolutely nothing to me. Nothing,” I repeat to add emphasis. Max nods and runs a hand over his hair. “I don’t want someone to be the reason we fail before we’ve hardly begun, especially not him, because I really like kissing you, Max.”

“I really hate that son of a bitch.”

“And you really like kissing me too,” I say, pushing up on my toes to kiss him again. I feel the smile on his lips before he kisses me back with more force.

I turn as Kendall slaps me on my ass. Her chin tilts and her blue eyes connect with mine, and just like that we’re okay. Growing up with as many arguments as we did, we’re both quick to forgive and forget, and usually smart enough to know when to be mad and when to let things go.

H
eading back to my apartment, I’m feeling the effects of not eating enough and drinking two shots and a beer that was promised wouldn’t taste like beer, but did. I’m feeling silly and giggling about absolutely nothing.

Abby’s still out and I reckon she will be all night when I see her message on our dry erase board hanging on the fridge:

Good luck! Love you, be safe tonight! XOXOXO Abs.

I make my way over to our small living room and drop onto the couch, thoroughly amused by the simple act, and the sound that accompanies my graceless maneuver. “Let’s go!” I proclaim slapping both sides of the couch as Max wanders around the kitchen.

“Where do you want to go?” he asks, opening several cupboards before retrieving a glass.

“I want to do something crazy!” I stand, and go to the fridge where he’s filling the glass with water.

“Something crazy?” he asks, smiling, “Like being crazy and drinking some water so you don’t have a hangover tomorrow? The crazy being that you’re being amazingly responsible?”

I frown at him, making him laugh. “What kind of crazy do you want to do?” He sets the glass on the counter and wraps me in his arms.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Remember, I don’t do crazy very often. You’re going to have to help me out.”

“Let’s get you a jacket,” Max leads me to my room.

“What are we going to do?” I cry, bounding over to where he stands in front of my overly stuffed closet.

“You’ll see,” he replies, looking lost.

I smile and grab a black, light weight jacket and turn, pressing my lips firmly to his. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and dig my fingers into his shirt as my entire body melts into him. “I really enjoy kissing you, Max. Like really, really enjoy it.” I take his hand in mine and drop back to my heels with a small sigh. “Okay, show me crazy!”

Max pauses, a small smile playing on his full lips red and swollen from our kiss. His cobalt blue eyes are full of light as he looks down at me. He wraps his arm around my back, once again pulling me to him, and kisses me hard on the lips then looks at me with a satisfied grin.

M
ax drives a little over thirty minutes while we talk and laugh about every random thought that enters my slightly inebriated mind. Finally we pull up to a small brick building that I can tell is a bar by the beer bottle-shaped neon lights adorning the windows. A dingy sign informs me we’re at O’Tooles.

“I should’ve asked you this, but do you have a fake ID?”

“Fake ID, huh?” I pluck a card from my wallet and hand it to Max.

“You took Kendall’s license?” he asks quietly, as we approach the door.

I shake my head, grinning. “She told them she lost it.” I wink as I pass him and walk into the small, slightly dilapidated building that reminds me a bit too much of the tattoo parlor.

No one bothers carding either of us, and looking around I’m not surprised. The place is a hole-in-the-wall. Granted, it’s a really packed hole-in-the-wall.

I stay close to Max as he leads us to one of the only vacant tables located near the center of the room. There’s a large stage at the front of the bar where a man is brutally mutilating “Cry” by Aerosmith.

I look from the stage to Max.

“Is this the crazy you had in mind?” he asks with a smile.

“Is the crazy part listening or singing?” Max laughs and I smile, watching the ease and beauty behind his joy.

“Have you ever sang karaoke?” he asks.

“I’m tone deaf,” I say, pointing to my right ear. “I don’t even sing in the shower, let alone in front of …” I look around at the crowded room cheering as the guy hits a note that has me flinching. “This is crazy,” I whisper to myself, taking it all in.

“You said you wanted crazy.” His voice holds a note of a challenge that makes my eyes grow at the prospect of really doing this.

“Alright, if you go with me! I’m going to get us a couple of shots. I need some more liquid courage!”

I get back to the table as Max is returning from the stage, grinning as he reaches for the tray crowded with four shots and two beers.

“I thought you didn’t like beer?”

“This is a hard cider,” I answer with a shrug. “I figure in case I need to nurse something, I can drink it. Otherwise, you can.” I take a seat and lean forward so I can talk over the noise. “I know you like whiskey, but I just learned there’s big difference between the different kinds, so I got us each a whiskey sour and a malt. I heard you tell my dad you like lager beers, which I also had to ask the bartender to explain, and he guaranteed me you’ll like this!”

When Max doesn’t reply, I look up to ensure he’s able to hear me. He’s staring at me, his eyes warm, yet guarded, like he’s waiting for me to tell him the bad side of things. I open my mouth to say something, I’m not even quite sure what, when he grabs my arms and pulls me out of my seat and into his chest and roughly kisses me.

“Thank you!” he says, looking at me with his intense blue eyes. I smile before I lean forward, kissing him again.

T
he night passes too fast as we laugh and sing along with others on stage. We chat with another couple that briefly joins our table when the place is too packed for any empty tables, and we kiss. We kiss a lot.

By the time we get home we’re both exhausted and I’ve had too much to drink to not start sleeping soon. Max leads me to my room before heading back into the kitchen. I brush my teeth and shuffle into my room where I peel off my clothes and change before Max appears with two glasses of water. I drink them both and lay my head on the cool cotton of my pillow as my ears ring in the quietness of my apartment.

“Where are you going?” I mumble, hearing the quiet swish of fabric. I look up to see Max standing in my doorway with his back to me.

“The couch.”

I shake my head and pat the bed beside me. “Come on, you can sleep above the sheet if you don’t trust me,” I say, sticking out my bottom lip.

“That pout could make world leaders sign peace treaties.” He sighs in defeat and pulls off his T-shirt. The sight of him unbuckling his jeans has me swallowing.
Maybe this was a bad idea
. Max stands before me in his boxer briefs.

I’ve seen him in his bathing suit dozens of times, this is no different, I repeat to myself as I pull the blankets down. “Don’t worry, I’m too tipsy to try much. I feel like I’m about to sleep for twelve days.”

“I’m worried about
my
self-control, not yours,” Max admits. He hesitates another beat before I see the resolve cross his face, and he slides under the covers.

I snuggle myself close to him and shiver, feeling the warmth of his skin radiating against mine. Max reaches over and pulls me closer, wrapping an arm under my neck so my head rests on his shoulder. He then hitches my leg so it lies between his thighs, my foot between his knees. I drape my right arm across his chest, and take deep breaths of Max as his hand lightly combs through my hair.

“Thank you. That was the best crazy I’ve ever had,” I whisper, closing my heavy eyes as sleep pulls me under.

T
he next afternoon I patiently sit on Kendall’s couch as she wraps up a call to Jameson, huffing about us being on our way.

I lift an eyebrow as she throws her phone in her purse like she’s pitching a softball. “Everything okay?”

She looks over at me and we silently stare at one another for a long moment before she lets out a loud sigh and follows me down the apartment stairs where our shoes slap against the metal. I silently climb into the passenger seat of her car, watching as the words work through her mind. Usually Kendall speaks through her thoughts, rather than processing them first like I do, making me feel slightly anxious for what she’s about to tell me.

Her head leans against the headrest, gazing into the parking lot, while holding her keys in a loose fist. “I think I love him.”

She slowly turns to face me, and I see the fear etched across her face. My sister has used the “L” word in nearly half of her relationships, but I can tell this is different. This is sincere. I remain silent, allowing the words to penetrate the air as we both digest them.

“I love him,” she repeats with more conviction, turning to look at me. I smile at her reassuringly. “We’re dating best friends and I love him. What if something turns bad?”

I shrug, not even wanting to consider the possibility. “We’re all adults, and we’ve been friends, so we know if something happens, we can always go back to that.” Her lips turn down in a grimace, and I reach my hand to grip hers. “Right now everything is going great. You can’t worry about something happening that hasn’t. You’ll drive yourself crazy. Stop acting like me.” Kendall breaks into a grin and lets out a small laugh.

“Seriously, I am becoming you.” She groans, sliding her eyes back to me. “Really, though, I’ll always choose you first. I promise. Nothing will ever come between us.”

“I would never make you choose.”

“You’ll never have to. You’re more than just my sister. You’re my best friend.”

“I love you too,” I say, squeezing her hand. “You should tell him you love him.”

Kendall squeezes my hand in reply and then makes a flippant comment about my boobs looking bigger, and we spend the short car ride joking and laughing.

“A
re you kidding me? For the love of all things holy!” I look up from my phone and see Max’s Jeep and Jameson’s car, then take in the moderately-sized tan house that looks too nice to have college students living in it, even if it is a rental. I look back to her in confusion and see the scowl on her face. I follow her gaze out the driver’s side window to see three scantily-clad women doing yard work.

I burst into laughter and climb out of the car with my bag in hand as Kendall follows me to the door, muttering under her breath. When the door opens Landon stands before us holding a bottle of beer and smiling.

“Hey, ladies! Do you need help with those?” he asks, lifting his beer in greeting.

“I think your neighbors are begging for help,” Kendall snaps, pushing past Landon who raises his eyebrows and looks at me in confusion. He takes a couple of steps forward and peers out the open front door to see a girl in a pair of shorts that look like she outgrew when she was seven, along with a bikini top and cowboy boots, mowing the lawn.

“If that does anything for you, please don’t tell me,” I say, taking a couple of steps inside.

Landon chuckles and closes the door as Max comes in the room, hair still wet from showering and a short layer of scruff on his jaw from not shaving today. He looks sexy as hell. I hoist my bag further up on my shoulder and lean forward to kiss him.

“What’s Kendall talking about? Rabid skanks?” he asks, taking my overnight bag from my shoulder, a smile playing on his lips.

“Your neighbors. They’re working pretty hard to get your attention.” I nod toward the large picture window beside the living room which is mostly bare except for a foosball table. “Tell her they look desperate and trashy.” Max walks to the window and peers out.

“Okay, tell
me
they look desperate and trashy.”

He closes the shade with a pull of the string and faces me with a growing smile. “Rabid skanks for sure.”

Landon laughs, retreating down the hallway. Max leans forward and gives me another quick kiss, taking my hand in his, and proceeds to give me a tour of their house.

It’s apparent it’s been well taken care of, with newer updates that were obviously done with care and precision. It’s clean, but feels slightly empty with sparse furniture and nearly no decorations. We finish upstairs where there’s a large room for storage and Max’s bedroom. He opens the door and I feel relieved he looks as nervous as I feel.

Max’s room is painted white, like the rest of the house. His king-sized bed sits against the far wall, covered in a navy blue comforter with a nightstand on each side, each adorned with a matching lamp. A large bureau sits across from the bed with a TV sitting atop it and a couple of framed pictures I zero in on immediately. There’s one of us from this summer, wearing our bathing suits. I’m sitting on his lap, my back pressed against his chest, wearing matching smiles so big it looks like our cheeks should ache. I don’t know where he got the picture and can’t even remember that moment, but a thrill goes through me seeing I hold a place in Max’s room. Beside it rests a picture of his mom, brothers, and him, all looking much more serious in a beautiful black and white image.