Becoming His (40 page)

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Max seethes, his fingers tightening around the molding causes the veins in his arms to become more prominent.

“I thought I knew that, but right now…” my head shakes with defeat “…I don’t know what I know, other than I need to get out of here.”

Before he can respond, I push past him and head down the stairs. I get in my car and throw my bag to the passenger seat and leave.

I drive around aimlessly, not sure where to go. I don’t want to chance running into Jesse and Abby at the apartment, and being peeled like an onion by my dad isn’t appealing. I have no intention of discussing the meaning behind sex with him—ever. Before I realize it, I’ve headed directly to the beach that Max and I found several weeks ago.

I kick my Converse off near the fire pit we’d created and continue down the desolate stretch to where the water softly kisses the sand.

Thoughts flood my mind as I begin to walk toward no particular destination, trying to articulate what’s happening. It takes me a while to realize that I’m further than I’ve ever been and should probably stop. Otherwise, I’ll never make it back before the sun sets, and I don’t have a flashlight to try and find the path that is fairly indistinguishable even in the daylight.

I stare out, facing the waves as my mind relaxes and focuses on the tickle from the water as it washes over my feet, pulling the sand out from under me in small increments, making me slowly sink. I take a deep breath, enjoying the sounds of the surf and the seagulls as they cry overhead, and feel the wind blow through my hair.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I hurt you again.”

I leap in the air as my silence is penetrated by Max’s deep voice.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to startle you,” Max says, a small grin tugging on his full lips. I pull my attention away from his handsome face. The last thing I need to do right now is be reminded at how beautiful he is.

“Why are you here, Max?” I ask, frowning as I look back to watch the water lap over my feet.

“All weekend I kept hearing how great we are together. How it will be our wedding that everyone’s gathered at next.” His voice grows closer.

My head snaps around to face where he stands a couple of feet behind me. “I’m not giving you any ultimatums or pressuring you into anything!”

“I know.” He turns his attention to the water, and then to me. His eyes don’t seem to be able to focus on me as I watch them waver between iciness and warmth. “I’d almost prefer you did! I never know what in the hell is going through that damn head of yours! I don’t know what you’re thinking or how you feel! You’ve dated so many guys, and yet you were a virgin! And you weren’t reluctant to sleep with me at all, even when you thought …”

Confusion clouds my thoughts as I stare at him. What is he talking about? Is he upset about the first time we had sex again? Then it hits me like a wave soaking me to the core: Max is feeling vulnerable and is afraid of me just as much as I am of him.

“You think I’m using you for casual sex?” The words come out barely above a whisper as my mind spins.

He looks at me expectantly.

“Max, I’ve had a crush on you since the day you moved in next door,” I admit, rolling my eyes, having to discuss his insecurities by forcing me to discuss my feelings.
But why am I hiding my feelings? Am I causing his insecurities? But what if Max doesn’t feel as strongly as I do?

I take a deep breath and my lungs quiver, as if they don’t want all of the oxygen because they aren’t sure they want me to continue talking. “Max, I love you.” My brain goes into overdrive, processing if I should have just let my vulnerability shine through.

Max crushes my body against his almost violently, holding my face in his hands as he kisses me. Conflicting emotions rush through me, as the anger, confusion, and doubt begin to wash from me like a receding wave. Love is an emotion that until spoken, I hadn’t realized the immense power that it holds.

“I love you,” Max says against my lips, kissing me softly once more before pulling back further to look at me. I feel my heart race, not realizing how badly I needed to hear his confirmation. He reaches up and softly cradles my face with a large hand. Gently, he slides my hair back as his blue eyes, bright with energy, frantically seek mine, reading my every thought, fear, hope, and things I’m not even aware of. “I love you
so
much.”

“Y
ou’re still reading that book?” I laugh, sitting beside Kendall on the couch and look over her shoulder. “I thought Jameson tossed it?”

“If I sent him a text like this, I think he’d have a heart attack and die,” she says, ignoring my question, and pointing to a section of the book.

I lean forward to read the passage she’s referring to and laugh. “He’d probably die happy though,” I say, smiling at her. Kendall throws her head back and laughs a loud and contagious laugh as Max comes through the doorway with Jameson, returning from a run. He looks at me, holding my gaze as his smile grows as a silent knowledge of our love passes.

T
hanksgiving break arrives before we know it and we’re all anxious for the short break. I’ve been working tirelessly at school and planning Max’s surprise party that Wes, Kendall, and Jameson are helping me to pull off. Landon has been running interference for us, distracting Max and getting him out of the house. Jameson, Kendall, and I are once again summarizing the plans as I take them to the airport the Thursday before break.

“I want to see a picture of her picking an apple, or I’ll never believe it,” I tease, pulling up to the departure gate.

“Pick apples.” Kendall scoffs, getting out of the car. Really, I couldn’t care less about the apples, it’s just the only thing I can think of to try and make her laugh. She’s been freaking out about meeting Jameson’s family, fretting that they won’t like her since we learned his parents weren’t enthused when he moved to San Diego, land of “fake people.”

“It’s supposed to be like twenty degrees. I think I’ll be practicing my snow bunny look indoors.” I laugh before they each lean forward to press a kiss to my cheek and climb out. I wave goodbye and head back to Max’s, knowing that although I’ll miss them for the next five days that they spend in Yakima, I’m really looking forward to having some time alone with Max since Landon flew out earlier this morning to spend the next week home with his family in Florida.

Intent on not wasting a single moment that we have together, Max is waiting for me when I arrive. We quickly establish some basic rules: no leaving the house, no one is allowed in the house, and no technology other than movies.

“One final rule,” Max says, taking a step closer to me. I see the predatory glint in his eyes as he closes in on me. “You’re only allowed to wear underwear.” He grips the bottom of my shirt and pulls it over my head revealing a yellow lacy bra. “You and yellow.” He growls.

I grin, enjoying the appraisal his eyes make as they travel over my body. Max’s hands fall to the button of my dove gray capris, and I smile against his lips as I work to free his shirt.

“Y
ou ready to head to your apartment?” Max asks, making a trail of kisses up my spine as I lie on my stomach, feeling blissful. I know we’ll enjoy being home with our families but I still hate leaving this moment, not knowing when we’ll have uninterrupted time together again.

“Promise me that we can do this again.” I sigh into the pillow and close my eyes, loving the contrast of the cool sheets and the heat pouring off Max’s skin.

“Let’s just say we’re sick. We’ll spend Thanksgiving here,” he whispers, landing kisses along my shoulder blade as his hand snakes around my lower back, gripping my waist. Max flips me to my back making me laugh.

“I don’t think Jameson and Kendall will play along.”

Max grunts as his head falls to my chest, his mouth closing around my nipple. I’m not certain if it’s because he knows I’m right, or if it’s elicited from a deeper need. I don’t try to figure it out as his teeth scrape against my sensitive skin making me arch my back and grip his shoulders.

“My god, I love you,” he whispers, looking up at my face as his hands trail from my neck to my hips and then slide beneath me, wrapping around my ass. He squeezes once as he takes in a deep breath and then groans, burying his face in my chest.

We stay another night, soaking up the final hours in the house and fight sleep as we lie tangled together so long our breaths and heart beats become singular.

“H
appy Thanksgiving Eve!” Sharon calls from the kitchen as Max and I arrive home. She and my mom stand at the kitchen bar where they share a bottle of wine.

I give her a warm smile and wrap my arms around her in a big hug. Sharon is quite possibly the world’s best hugger. She always holds on for a few extra seconds, as if she is giving you an extra piece of love. I’m grateful to have her as my boyfriend’s mom. She’s comfortable and sweet, constantly reminding me how happy she is that Max and I are dating, but also independent and strong to where she supports me going to school and taking my time in making a decision and reminds me not to let Max get away with anything.

“So your dad says we need to be here by nine because in order to start Thanksgiving off right, we need to experience your pumpkin pancakes and brown sugar bacon,” Sharon says, sitting back at the counter and smiling at me as she wraps an arm around Max’s waist, resting her head on the side of his bicep.

“There’s only one way to find out,” I sing, standing beside my mom and tightly hugging her side, leaning my head on hers. She wraps a delicate arm around my waist. Her comforting scent wafts over me, and she lightly kisses my cheek as her perfectly manicured hand wraps around mine.

I know that I have some of my mother’s qualities, like her love for cooking and ability to talk to nearly anyone and make them feel comfortable, but standing beside her reminds me of the qualities I didn’t receive: beautiful blue eyes that are so clear they look like crystals and self-discipline for the way that she looks and carries herself. I can’t stop mentally comparing us as we stand so close—her perfectly manicured nails beside my short clean ones; her hair perfectly styled and sprayed in place, mine up in a ponytail with several strands falling loose around my face; her elegant dress and heels with my jeans, hoodie, and Converse shoes.