Becoming His (39 page)

“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.”

T
he next few weeks fly by as we attend classes, work on papers, read assigned chapters, and work on various projects. Wes and I have slowly become friends after we were paired together on a project for Philosophy. I start seeing him more and more as he comes around to visit Max. He’s actually a pretty decent guy as much as I initially hate to admit it. He’s easy to get along with and seems to sincerely care for Max. He even has a pretty good sense of humor. Although he has a tendency to quote shows I’ve never watched. I repeatedly explain to him that I grew up in a house with six women and that Seth MacFarlane really didn’t grace us with his presence much. We even begin running together pretty consistently, mostly because of having a fairly similar class schedule. Occasionally Max joins us, but he prefers going after classes, saying that the exercise at the end of the day helps him get out of school mode.

“Ace, we’re seriously running out of time. We need to figure out what we’re going to do for your birthday!” Kendall complains, stirring a bowl of pancake batter that I placed beside the stove, waiting for the griddle to get hot.

“Stop stirring!” I say, waving her away.

“Birthday. What are we going to do for your birthday?” Kendall asks, sounding more annoyed.

“I don’t know. I’m sure there’ll be a hundred parties going on that we can attend.” I pour a measuring cup of batter and watch the first pancake form.

“Wow, it smells really good in here,” Jameson says groggily as he sits at the kitchen table looking half asleep. “We have a pitcher?” he asks, eyeing the glass pitcher holding orange juice.

“Shhh, we’re discussing birthday plans,” Kendall snaps, waving her hand at him dismissively.

“That’s right. Ace, when’s your actual birthday? I know Kendall mentioned celebrating on Halloween.”

“It
is
Halloween,” she says.

I look at Jameson questionably. Kendall’s never a morning person, but she’s in a particularly grouchy mood this morning, especially for something that seems so trivial.

I dish up some bacon and hand Jameson a bowl filled with scrambled eggs before returning to the stove to flip pancakes.

“It’s Saturday. Saturday mornings I’m supposed to wake up and see this beautiful face,” Max says, holding my face in his hands. I smile and lean forward to kiss lips that are minty from toothpaste. He grins, standing before me wearing only a pair of black mesh shorts. “You’re in trouble.” He growls quietly, lightly biting my ear.

“
We’re
in trouble,” Jameson says, taking a piece of bacon, “We’re being domesticated. We have a pitcher.” He waves his hand in front of it.

Max ignores him and kisses me again.

“Can you guys wait like fifteen minutes? I’ve been hearing about these pancakes for the last couple of months.” Jameson groans.

I laugh and plate some pancakes. As I pour more batter, Max wraps his arms around me from behind and holds me tightly against his chest as I continue flipping and pouring.

“You’ve permanently ruined me of every other pancake. My mom’s going to be heartbroken,” Jameson says between mouthfuls.

“It’s the chocolate chips,” I confess.

“No, it’s the deliciousness,” Jameson mumbles, making me laugh.

“You know, we could go to the haunted house,” Kendall suggests, scrolling through her phone.

“You want to wear your naughty nurse costume through a haunted house?” I ask her dubiously.

“No, just for something to do. We could go this weekend!”

“You girls are so going to scream!” Jameson chides.

“Do you want to go?” Max asks, looking at me with uncertainty.

“About as much as I wanted to get a tattoo. Yet, I still have a tattoo.” He smiles and softly kisses my temple.

L
ater that morning I text Abby, extending an invite to her and Jesse. Surprisingly she accepts and we agree to all meet at seven at Antonio’s Pizza Palace. I’ve hardly seen Abby in the past couple of weeks other than the few occasions that she and I have made plans to hang out. I tried to apologize for the excitement that led to Max coming over and ransacking our apartment, and although she seems to have forgiven him, Jesse has no interest in hanging out with us, and it causes a bit of tension between us.

The haunted house is horrifying. I literally feel like it strips four years of my life away as we’re chased by a man with a chainsaw, another with a large axe, and countless other menacing characters through the scarcely lit space as spooky sounds and screams echo around us. By the end, Kendall has latched herself like a barnacle to both Jameson and Max. While I’m tightly wound around one of Jesse’s arms and Abby has a strangle hold on the other.

“Seriously. Never again,” I repeat, reluctantly releasing my hold from Jesse as we make it through the exit. I jump as a hand lands on my back and look back to see Max grinning at me.

“A little jumpy?” he teases, arching that single eyebrow with the look that melts my annoyance with him before it can even fully formulate.

I am jumpy, to the point that it’s a bit embarrassing. I cling to Max’s side for the remainder of the evening that we spend back at the guys’, laughing and telling stories. The previous awkwardness with Jesse seems to have been left behind in the walls of the haunted house. Perhaps it’s from seeing Max in a more relaxed setting and realizing that the version he’d seen wasn’t his normal state. Or maybe it’s the fact that I was plastered to his side like drywall out of desperation for what seemed like hours, but was probably closer to twenty minutes. I don’t spend much time speculating what has changed the overall demeanor, but I’m grateful for it as I sit back and soak it in.

M
y birthday passes in a buzz of costumes and parties, ending at the hospital where Savannah delivers my fourth niece, Sawyer. Her arrival is the greatest gift, making my birthday nearly as perfect as she is.

“I
can’t stop reading this!” Kendall squeals, pinching the bridge of her nose. The book drops to her chest as she falls back into the couch beside me.

I grin at her and nod. “I know, it’s like a train wreck. You can’t turn back and it keeps getting worse!”

She giggles, pumping her feet into the air.

Jameson and Max enter the room and I glance at the clock on the wall, wondering what they’re doing back so soon. They were supposed to go to the gym, and I was hoping to be gone by the time that they returned. It’s only been fifteen minutes.

Max and I are experiencing one of our first awkward stages. We’ve just returned from Arizona where we attended his older brother Billy’s wedding. The long weekend had been amazing, until the night before we left when Max made a comment about sex just being sex that sent me on the strange path I’m still trying to navigate, making me speculate things about our relationship that I haven’t before now.

“What’s with this chick crying every time they have sex? That’s not normal! Is it?” Kendall asks, looking at me confused, “Do you cry during sex? I don’t.”

“Can we not be that open with all of that, babe?” Jameson asks, obviously uncomfortable.

“Wouldn’t you rather hear what I have to say, as opposed to doing it behind closed doors? Because it’s going to happen, one way or the other.”

“You don’t just start a conversation like that about sex!” Jameson cries, and if I wasn’t in such a mood I’d probably laugh at the vulnerability he’s showing.

Jameson has become one of my favorite people. I’m beyond happy he and Kendall are dating. The first day that I’d met Jameson my initial thought was that the calm, inquisitive, and caring side he’d shown me at the track was just a façade, but it wasn’t. He is hilarious and goofy with a radiant energy, and calm and caring with a more inquisitive nature than most.

“Like you guys don’t talk about sex, please!” Kendall retorts.

“Yeah, isn’t sex just sex? Something we just do because it’s our primal instinct? We are animals,” I say.

“And with that, I think you’re done reading this book,” Jameson says, grabbing the book off of her chest and winging it across the room. “Something tells me they need to talk.” He grabs Kendall’s hand and pulls her up.

“Here’s some good advice, don’t repeat whatever it was you said before,” Kendall says, widening her eyes and nodding at him before they walk down the hall disappearing into Jameson’s room.

I intentionally avoid Max by turning my back and heading up the stairs to get my things.

“How long are you going to freeze me out?” he demands, following close on my heels.

“I’m not freezing you out.”

“The hell you’re not! You’re pissed at me for what I said, and you’re trying to make me pay for it!”

“Pay for it? You think I’m trying to make you pay for it?”

“People have casual sex all the time! I’ve had plenty of it; sex isn’t always about emotions and deep-seated promises tying two people together. It’s naive to think that!” Max’s eyes are dark with anger as he throws an arm in the air.

Although words rush through my head faster than I can aptly process them, I don’t respond. I don’t think I’ll be able to without losing my composure, and the last thing I want to do right now is cry in front of Max, especially when he’s saying these words.

I grab my backpack that thankfully still holds my books and laptop, and without attempting to gather my other belongings that are strewn around, I turn to leave. I know I won’t be able to keep things inside much longer.

“You always want to run away when shit gets real!” His voice is a notch louder than normal as he stands in the doorway with his hands clutching the molding. “You have to stop running!”

“What am I supposed to do, Max?”

“Fight! Tell me that’s not what it means. Tell me how you feel!” His voice still carries an authoritative edge, but it wavers at the end, as though he’s realizing these words shouldn’t be said as a demand.

“Are you kidding? You want to completely demean me and our relationship, and now you want me to profess my feelings for you?” I feel my eyebrows lower as I look to him for an answer. All he does is stare back at me with hard eyes, his jaw clenching.

“Move!” I demand, gripping my backpack.

“What is running away going to accomplish?”

“What is being
here
going to accomplish? All I want to do right now is get away from you! I’m disgusted with you!”

“You’re disgusted with me for having casual sex?”

“I’m disgusted with you for pretending to care!”