“Wilson, are you ready?” he breathed across my neck before his lips tickled at my earlobe and he pressed his entire body against mine. He caused my butterflies to flock south. I wanted him so badly, I could explode and it would be less painful. It ached deep in my core.
But how was I to know all the emotions I was supposed to feel? My body, my heart, my soul wanted him completely. It was my mind I had to convince. And quite frankly, it was harder than I thought.
I shook my head yes, and felt his intention shift quickly. I knew this was going to be it. My legs went weak and I swayed sideways. His body followed me like a slow dance.
Words couldn’t fill the thick moment of anticipation between us, so we didn’t attempt to talk. He reached across me and twisted the door knob. When I turned to walk in, my heart somersaulted in my chest.
A canvas banner, with a burst of confetti colors wishing me a happy birthday, spanned his huge picture window. On his desk, a stunning kaleidoscope of tulips and snapdragons erupted from a clear, square glass vase, and a bright yellow envelope leaned purposefully in view. I stood for a speck of a moment, taking in all the love that filled his room. It was beautiful, and it was for me.
A smile streamed across Max’s face as he looked around, surprised as I was.
“Did you plan this?” I asked as he came up behind me and lowered his chin to my shoulder.
“Well, would it make it any more amazing if I did?” he whispered.
I nodded. It was pretty incredible and overwhelming, like the many times before when he did things that woke up my butterflies. I fought to push them back down into my gut. But that never lasted long; the butterflies would always sneak back up, causing my throat to go dry and my eyes to burn. Max seemed to know exactly what to do to touch me deeply.
“Honestly, the flowers were my idea. The banner and card—that must be from my mom.” He dragged his fingers across my hair, exposing my neck, before he pressed his warm lips right below my ear. “My idea was the helicopter—remember?” He continued kissing my neck, then I turned and our lips met. He tasted better than ever before. Maybe it was because I was finally eighteen. Or maybe it was the idea that I wanted to be a part of what he had to offer.
Max kicked the door shut, his hands strong across my back. Suddenly, we…were…on. No more waiting, no more wondering what it was going to feel like to have each other—completely. A replay of the events leading up to this moment hung between us. A thousand horses tugged and carted our desires at the speed of light, while our emotions galloped in plain sight. He pulled my shirt up over my head, and his eyes fixed on my body as he tugged his own shirt off. He tickled his fingers down my shoulders, across my arms, and to the front of my black lace bra. I knew it was his favorite because of the front snap.
Max was determined as his fingers pushed and unsnapped the clasp between my breasts. Slowly he took my bra off, soaking up the part of me he’d seen so many times before. He lowered his head and pressed his warm, damp mouth against me, teasing my nipple between his lip and tongue. Sparks ignited downstairs as I gasped and held my breath. But unlike all the times before, he didn’t stop to ask me if it was okay. This time his intentions were crystal clear and all mapped out.
We were topless and exploring each other like it was our first time. His body cambered over mine, his thigh muscle pressed firmly between my legs. Driving me back to the bed with every step, he captured all the heat being created low in my groin. My fingers clung to the muscles in his back as I felt them flexing with every move, every dip, and every sway of his body. I pressed my nose against his skin and inhaled his aroma, faint with sultry pine and lavender. He was my Aspen.
The butterflies low in my body kept encouraging me to go further. Who was I to argue? I thought maybe my head, the literal side of me, would crumble and give in to my emotional side—my heart. But I knew this was what I wanted; I could feel every part of my body reinforcing the desire to be with him, so why was I scared? It’s what I’ve waited for—the moment of truth. I’m finally going to give Max that part of me we’ve both so zealously guarded; the part of me nobody has ever known, not even me.
The back of my legs collided with the edge of the bed and we both stopped kissing. Max pulled away and pressed his hand in the space just above my breasts. My hands slipped around his sculptured biceps. My heart spoke to him in rhythm.
Mesmerized by his commanding green eyes as they danced up my skin, he soaked up every square inch of my body with a hunger I’ve never felt before, and spoke silent answers for every question I felt.
When our eyes met, my butterflies scrambled to regroup. He bit his bottom lip between his teeth, teasing me into wanting him to skate the tip of his tongue across every inch of my body. I wanted him all to myself, every moment of every day.
I dragged my fingers down his arms before I let them hover at the waist of his jeans. He pushed me back, knowing I’d take him down with me. We tumbled onto his bed together. His skin scorched mine and his muscles flexed stiffly as he adjusted his weight to ride all the pleasurable points of my body. The muscles in his arms and shoulders tightened as he lifted his chest up off me, his weight shifting, causing his hips to swing and drag heavily between my legs. With his head still lowered, his shiny black hair tumbled forward and gave me the perfect opportunity to tangle and lock my fingers in its wisps. I rose up to kiss him. Our mouths opened and tasted our raw desire for one another. His hands slipped behind me, and the heat from his skin ignited me once again.
We rolled across his bed until I ended up stretched out on top of him. I felt his desire, swollen and hard, between us. Bit by bit I kissed my way down, tracking my lips to where his happy trail led me—to the waist of his jeans. I dragged the tip of my tongue across his stomach. His muscles flexed and his arms pulled urgently against my upper back as he let out a deep, low, animalistic groan. I slipped my fingers around the top button of his Levi’s and released it, then tugged on his boxers and pressed my lips to his exposed skin. It drove him crazy. His breath hitched and my shoulders went cold as he grabbed me under my arms and pulled me up. Forcefully, he thrust his hands down to the front of my jeans and yanked at the snap. His hands sped to pull them off my body while he worked and wiggled out of his own jeans. I watched his body create a magic I wanted to touch. His muscles moved and flexed, exemplifying how sexy he was. He even glistened with a slight shine. We were both down to our underwear when Max pulled the covers down and worked his way under them.
“Come on, get in here with me,” he growled holding the covers up so I could slip next to him. And I did.
I smiled—scared, nervous, and even a bit unsure. I didn’t know what to expect. He pulled me in and cradled my backside against his radiant body. Under the covers, through our underwear, I felt how much he wanted me. His lips tasted the skin across my back and shoulder while his fingers slinked up the inside of my thigh, slowly drifting across the front of my panties before maneuvering underneath the waist band.
My heart slammed against my rib cage and the butterflies sped spastically around my stomach, cheering for the moment they couldn’t wait to have. I held my breath and spread my legs a bit, inviting him to tickle his fingers further down to feel my dampness. I waited impatiently as every muscle below my waist contracted and released in anticipation of his touch. Instead he pulled my panties off my body altogether.
“Oh, Max,” I moaned.
“Mmmm,” he hummed.
I took a breath—I was just about to tell him to make love to me when I heard the front door slam and his mother’s voice escalate to a window-shattering scream. Her voice permeated every wall, window, and door. Her frantic tone saturated my body down to the marrow as she screamed for Max over and over again until his name began to mingle with her cries for help.
Max flung the covers off and jumped out of the bed. Struggling to pull his pants on, he bumbled and yelled back to her.
“Mom? I’m on my way.” He looked back at me, adding, “Stay here. I’ll be rig
ht back.” He scooped up his shirt from the floor and sped to the door. Barefoot and half naked, he slammed the door. I could hear Nancy’s voice echoing up the stairs, screaming Frank’s name. Then Max yelled to his sister to call 911.
My heart pounded in my chest. I hurried to get dressed. I wanted to go and find out what was happening. I ran downstairs. The front door was wide open and I could see Nancy hovering over Frank on the wet, black driveway. Max pushed his hands against Frank’s chest, yelling at his dad not to die. I stood in the doorway frozen, seeing the threshold of Frank’s life teetering on the shoulders of Max. Flashes of my grandfather on his driveway as he lay dying flooded my mind.
“Max, you gotta save him!” Camille’s scream struck my heart and all my disconnected thoughts vanished.
Camille bounced off walls with her hands before she plowed through me full force to get to her father. I felt my feet leave the floor and my body lurch onto the porch. I landed on the hard slate ground with pain burning through my knees and fire thrashing against the palms of my hands. I got back up and stood watching Max’s family crumble, dissolving like the steam from my breath in the brisk winter air. Max looked at me before giving his father another CPR breath.
“Wilson—get back upstairs, now,” Max yelled. I didn’t want to leave but it was his family, his moment to live through. So I did what he told me and turned away from the family I wanted more than anything else in the world.
How was I supposed to react? Max told me to wait for him up in his room, but how could I? The bright lights of the ambulance stroked the enormous picture windows, coloring the faces of his family in crimson. Sinister skeletons of trees I once admired flashed red outlines against the murky sky while Max’s father lay strapped to the gurney. One EMT rhythmically pounded Frank’s chest, while the other medic squeezed a huge bulb, forcing air down his trachea. I watched carefully from the front window in Max’s bedroom—shut in and helpless.
The brawny EMT wheeled Frank into the back of the ambulance while the slender one continued CPR. I watched as Max lifted Nancy into the ambulance like a ballerina from Swan Lake; if only it were true. She blew him a kiss before she was swallowed by the doors. Her bowed head was framed in one of the back windows. She was the broken image of desperation.
Quarantined by the inconvenient fact that I wasn’t a Goldstein, I watched as the little power I thought I had dissipated in the eyes of the people to whom I ached to belong. The insecurities of being alone swelled around me and bowled me back to the day I’d been forgotten on my grandparents’ porch. The holes of abandonment were carved into my heart by the woman who was supposed to love me more than any chemical high. The damaging acid of neglect dissolved any memories of my mother’s love. My body felt like it had forsaken me—my arms felt heavy, my head was swimming. I couldn’t stop the ripping sting that dried my throat and the aching pain that clenched my jaw. My nose, saturated with the scent of disenchantment, became clogged with everything I tried to hold back. Salty tears anxiously raced down my face, creating tracks I didn’t want to own. I pressed my hands against the window and dropped my body against the clear, yet breakable boundary that kept me from Max. My lids, heavy with loneliness, slammed shut, releasing the leftover tears that clung to the hope of staying alive within my eyes.
I didn’t see the ambulance drive away, and for what seemed like an eternity, I didn’t know where Max went. When I heard him breathing heavily behind me, short and fast pants, I knew the pain he was experiencing; knew it all too well. I turned to him. He was frozen in his doorway. His rosy color having deserted him, his face was ghostly white—pale with fear of losing his dad. I looked into his swollen, bloodshot eyes.
“I am so sorry, Max,” I said. I held fast to my spot against the window as I continued to fill the vacant gap between us with words I knew I had to say. “You need to go and be with your family.”
They were so hard to dislodge from my larynx. I wanted to be with him through this. It was my chance to heal him, make him okay, but at that moment I was only in the way. Selfishly, there was a part of me that wanted him to choose to stay with me, but I knew he would resent me if his father died in the hospital and he wasn’t there.
He shuffled toward me, unsure of where he should be. I could tell he was struggling with the commitment he’d made to being with me. When I reached for him and we embraced, he clung to me.
“Wilson,” he choked. I felt his body ripple vulnerably as he cried.
“Shhh, Max, it’s going to be okay.”
“I don’t want this right now,” he mumbled into my tear-damp hair.
“I know, but your family needs you.” Suddenly for the first time, I was reassuring him. “Do you want me to call Calvin?”
“No. I don’t think he could handle this right now. He’s still really upset at my dad.” Max pulled back from me. I watched him wipe his tears on the back of his hands. He noticed I had been crying. “Are you okay?” he asked as his hands tangled in my hair.
I nodded, hoping to avoid crying more. But my eyes swelled with damn tears. I wanted so badly to be there for him; I didn’t want to come across weak or needy. He needed me to be the strong one. “You should go and be with your mom and sister right now.” I pushed him back from me as I took a deep breath.
“Come with me.” He snatched at my arms. “I want you there with me.”
“Oh Max, I don’t think so. This is your family moment.” I couldn’t look him in the eyes; it was too hard to see his hurt.
“Wilson, I won’t go without you. I know I told you to stay in my room, but I only did that so you wouldn’t have to…” he stopped. I looked up at him. “It’s just so soon after your grandfather,” he finished.
“I understand. Thanks for wanting to protect me. But Max, that’s life, you can’t shelter me.”
“I will always want to protect you, Wilson. I love you.” He dragged his lips down from my forehead to my nose and past down to my waiting lips. He always knew how to get his way.
“I love you too,” I breathed after our kiss.
It didn’t take long to get to the hospital and Max did his best to hold it together as he drove. But by the time he pulled into the parking garage and shut off the car, he was a total mess.
I knew his spirit was beyond broken and there was nothing I could do to fix it. I couldn’t smash his pain or soak up his anger; all I could do was sit by him and wait. He had his head pressed against his hands, still grasping the steering wheel. He lingered a moment before lifting his head to speak.
“I don’t want to go in there and see him…dying,” he choked.
“Max, your family needs you.” I reached out and intertwined my fingers in the wisps of hair dangling in front of his bowed head.
He looked at me, his eyes damp with disappointment. “I’m sorry, this isn’t what I had planned for us on your birthday.”
“Max, don’t worry about it. I want to be here with your family. We belong here now.” I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He swung his arms around me and buried his face in the curve of my neck. Time owed us, and I wished we had enough of it to stay in that embrace.
“Thank you for coming with me,” he mumbled.
“You’re welcome. Now come on, you can do this.” I pulled away and swung my door open. Max sat motionless.
After a slight moment, though, he pushed open his door and stepped out. His once lofty, gorgeous physique moved reluctantly, like a broken man resistant to change. I held his hand as we walked up the stairs into the hospital that was hopefully keeping his father alive.
The sliding doors buzzed open. The quiet thuds of rubber soles pacing the immaculate, speckled tile floor vibrated between us. Floating scents of Simple Green attempted to mask the reality that this was a hospital stacked with sick people. I felt Max’s hand tighten on mine.
The old man sitting purposefully at the volunteer desk smiled at us. I smiled back, Max didn’t.
“Good evening. Welcome to Aspen Valley Hospital. Can I hel
p you?” the volunteer asked.
Max stared at the old guy for an awkward moment before speaking.
“Uhh…yeah. My father, Frank Goldstein, was brought in by ambulance…”
“Oh, I see. You will want to go to the ER department. Follow the red arrows down this corridor, turn left, then take your second right and then the first left. You’ll come to a set of double doors, go straight through and you’ll be in the ER’s waiting area.” The old man’s wrinkled and splotchy hands swung through the air, miming the convoluted path we were supposed to take.
“Thank you,” I said.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Good luck.”
Why do people say that? I never will understand someone wishing me luck as I go to experience something that is out of my control. Give me a break. It isn’t like we are running a race or entering a raffle. I’m going to the emergency room to see my boyfriend’s father who could be dying. I don’t need luck; I need Frank to be okay.
When we made it to lobby of the ER, Max went up to the registration nurse and asked where he could find his father. I heard Camille call Max’s name. Her eyes were worn with the fears of her father’s failing health. She jumped up and scurried over to Max, grabbing him and bursting into tears. He held her while she collected herself enough to tell him what was going on with their father.
“Max, he had a major heart attack. Mom is in there with him now. He’s got machines beeping and tubes hanging from everywhere. I told Mom I would wait out here for you. It doesn’t look good.” Camille burst into tears again.
The Wilson Mooney Box Set Page 39
