by Ann Aguirre
“Bathroom?” he suggested.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”
I dodged in, used the facilities and then did what I could with my hair. Fortunately it perked right up with a little water, going from helmet-smashed to spiky with some judicious fiddling. I washed my face and put on lip gloss without letting myself wonder why. This isn’t a date. You’ve been living with him for six months and you’ve gone to the movies fifty times. Max bounced up and headed for the door as I stepped out. He didn’t comment on how I looked, but then, he never did, so it would be weird if he started now.
Before I got on the bike, I mapped our route and memorized it, just as I had from the diner in Providence. “Okay, let’s go. I’ll navigate.”
With Max driving, we got there five minutes before the show started. The Cineplex sat off to the side in a mall parking lot but it was a huge free-standing structure with neon lights outside. Marquee lighting framed the movie posters, but since we knew what we wanted to see, Max strode up to the ticket window.
“Two, please.”
Inside, I tried to give him some money but he grabbed my hands and shook them until I stopped offering. “Fine, but I’m getting the junk food. What sounds good?”
“Nachos.”
“We had nachos yesterday.”
“What’s your point? I wasn’t offering to share.”
I grinned. “Good point.”
At the counter I ordered vitamin water, nachos and popcorn. That should tide us over until dinner.
The lobby had a few other couples ambling around, dropping food on the red carpet, but our theater was nearly empty, only four other people, so Max and I had our pick of seats. He blazed a trail to the second-to-last row and waited for me to precede him. It felt foreign and delicious to settle into the plush seat next to him. Surely we’d gone to the dollar house without Nadia and Angus, but at the moment I couldn’t recall specific instances.
“I’ve heard this is terrible,” he whispered.
“Then why are we watching it?”
“That’s exactly why.”
“Will you let me MST3K it?”
“Unless someone sits down nearby, obviously.”
The movie started strong, but it went south around a quarter of the way in. I lost all sense of dread and paid more attention to Max shifting beside me than the events unfolding on-screen. He kept leaning over to whisper hilarious observations into my ear. It struck me then how much like this it had been with Eli. Never hard, never complicated, just sweet, beautiful and right. The realization startled me so much I dropped the popcorn. Max lunged for it at the same time I did and we cracked skulls so hard that I saw sparks.
“Oh, fuck. Are you all right?”
“Mildly concussed, maybe.”
He cupped my face in hands, trying to see if I was bruised in this dim lighting. “I can’t tell how bad it is. I’ll get you some ice.”
I put my hand on his arm to stop him. “It’s fine. Let’s finish the movie.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yep. My head is incredibly hard. I could do trick videos where I break boards with it.”
The producers probably didn’t expect us to leave with our stomachs aching from laughter, but that was the situation when we staggered out an hour later. In the lobby I could tell Max had a contusion forming. I reached up, touching lightly with my fingertips.
“Does it hurt a bunch?”
“You can baby me when we get back.”
I took that to mean yes, Courtney, it hurts, your skull might as well be made of titanium.
Feeling bad, I offered, “I’ll give you a head rub, ice it down, whatever you want.”
“Be careful,” he teased. “I could ask for anything.”
“I’d probably give it to you.” The admission popped out before I could stop it.
Max regarded me steadily for a few seconds, and when he replied, he sounded unusually serious. “Then I’ll make sure not to abuse my power.”
We ate a quick dinner at a Chinese fast-food place nearby, then headed back to the motel. By this point it was dark, just the red taillights of cars ahead and the white beams of other vehicles zooming toward us in the opposite direction. I clung to Max, my arms tight about his waist. His back, God, I’d spent so much time pressed up against it this trip, and now I knew about the Chinese dragon. I could happily strip off his shirt and lick my way down his spine.
The trip had lasted long enough that we had a comfortable bedtime routine worked out now. While waiting for my shot in the bathroom, I filled the ice bucket at the machine at the end of the building. As soon as we were both ready for bed, I propped myself up against the headboard and beckoned to Max.
“One head rub, coming up. This is a limited-time offer, by the way.”
“How do you want me?” The soft sweetness of the question sent a shiver straight through me, and I hid it from him like a cache of pills.
“You can lie sideways with your head in my lap or you can lean back against me, whichever looks more comfortable.” Amazing I could sound so casual when my heart was beating so hard.
His answer came when he crawled between my legs and flipped around, resting his head on my chest. He was heavier in my arms than his lean build suggested, but I’d stashed enough pillows behind me. Max wriggled around a little, getting comfortable. When he stilled, I set my fingertips to his temples.
Haven’t done this for a guy in forever. Haven’t done this since...Eli.
Usually when I thought his name, he responded. But this time, there was only silence, broken by Max’s breathing. As I widened the focus, massaging his whole head, he made the sexiest sound, somewhere between a groan and a rumble of pleasure. I pretended I didn’t feel anything, no kindling heat, no desire to circle my hips. It was tough but I kept still. Just as well, because Max moved enough for both of us. He rubbed against my fingers, turning side to side, until my fingers cramped, and even then I kept rubbing.
“This is so good,” he mumbled.
“I hate to make you move, but I have to pee.”
“No problem.” He rolled more than got up, seeming boneless, and flopped over on his stomach with a contented moan.
Okay, I had been so fucking good on this trip, but I was so done. As soon as I shut the door behind me, I pulled my leggings down and leaned back against the door. I was so fucking horny that this shouldn’t take long. Touching two fingers to my slick labia, I couldn’t completely strangle my gasp. The bed creaked outside, as if Max had shifted. Did he hear me? I was hot enough that I didn’t care. Listen, if you want.
This position wasn’t ideal, but there was no way I’d risk the tub or floor. So I had to make it work. I remembered his heat, his smell, the weight of him in my arms, and my excitement ratcheted up. All kinds of dirty fantasies spun in my head, incoherent images of Max and me, naked, straining together. I strummed my fingers against my clit, wishing for more pressure, more— I pictured his face and came, unable to muffle the whimpers completely.
Legs still shaky, I washed my hands four times, worried that the bathroom smelled of sex.
God, this is embarrassing. I hope he doesn’t know. I should’ve made myself calm down, waited until we got home. It was only one more night.
But you want him, Eli said. There’s nothing wrong with that.
There had been a couple of guys since he’d died, but nobody who mattered emotionally. Completely bewildered by the chaos in my head, I leaned against the mirror for a minute, as if an extreme close-up of my face could clear things up. When I ventured out, Max was asleep or pretending to be. Thankful for small mercies, I quietly crept into bed beside him. On the plus side, I was no longer crazily aware of his every movement and my mental state had caught up with physical exhaustion.
I was nearly dozing when he reached for me in his sleep, and with an ache in my throat, I let it happen. Just for tonight, I’d imagine this was where I was supposed to be.
CHAPTER TEN
Coming home
was wonderful...and terrible.
The former because I had my own bed back and the latter because Max wasn’t in it. But Kia was all moved in, which was a plus. She’d remembered what I said about my mild OCD and the room wasn’t disorganized. It was strange seeing her furniture instead of Nadia’s¸ all white and modern; her comforter was patterned in bright hues, reminiscent of paint splatters. Overall, Kia had great taste. I loved the abstract prints she’d hung up, both modern and aesthetically appealing. The room definitely needed the color since I leaned toward black and gray, monochrome all the way.
The first week, it was hard getting back to routine, but soon I was bumming rides to campus with Angus, just like always. People who lived closer went home between classes; I usually holed up in the library or napped in the sun in the quad. Some things didn’t change. Late summer suited Mount Albion; the lush green foliage made the grounds seem stately and impressive. I wasn’t paying much attention to the scenery, however, as I rushed from the coffee shop to the business building.
Since I was in a hurry, I nearly ran into someone coming up the steps. I mumbled, “Excuse me,” and was ready to rush past when the girl put her hand on my arm.
“Courtney?”
Great.
I had zero desire ever to see Amy Fuller again. After I broke it off with her, she’d spread rumors about how I’d gotten her drunk and seduced her. That really hurt because I’d cared about her; I just wasn’t up to the investment of time and energy that making her happy required. She’d needed constant reassurance about my level of interest and desire. Toward the end, nothing I did was enough; no words or gesture would’ve convinced her.
“How’ve you been?” The question was courtesy, nothing else. According to a surreptitious peek at my phone, I had four minutes to get to class.
“Oh, you know. Getting by.”
“It was great to see you, but I have to go. Take care.”
Before I could brush by, she said, “Wait?”
“I’m not dodging you, my class starts in three minutes.”
“Okay, well, would you consider going for coffee with me afterward? I’ll wait.” A pleading look from her big blue eyes made me cave. “And I’ll drive you home.”
I’d always been susceptible to Amy, as she well knew. Two minutes. “Fine. Meet you back here.”
At that point I had to run and I barely made it into my seat before the professor strode in. My mind was never 100 percent on these classes—luckily I was smart enough to make it up by reading the material on my own later—but today distraction kept showing me shiny things, making me doodle all over my notebook. As class ended, I realized I’d sketched out the Chinese dragon on Max’s back. I only needed to shade it with a red marker for my obsession to be complete.
Sighing, I gathered my stuff. This was one of those big lecture halls, practically stadium seating, and I followed the rest of the students down from the back. Since it was the only class I had of this size, I didn’t expect the professor to know my name, let alone call me over. It was only my third time in his class, the second week of school.
“Miss Kaufman, may I speak with you a moment?”
Nodding, I switched course, turning toward him. “Yes?”
“I’ve noticed you haven’t done any internships, nothing outside coursework. I’m concerned that will hurt you later.”
“Why?”
Professor Tompkins raised his brows at me. He was in his late fifties, fairly fit, with a bald spot he tried valiantly to cover with a devoted comb-over. Unless I missed my guess, he was a plastic surgery aficionado. There were telltale signs near his jaw and eyes. Since my mother loved having things nipped and tucked, I had practice picking up even on good work.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m just wondering at your interest. Did my academic advisor ask you to intervene?” Since I hadn’t seen the woman since my sophomore year, I doubted it.
“No. I make it a habit to review every student I teach, even in classes this size.”
“I give you a gold star for effort, but I’m good. Thanks.” With a cheery wave, I headed out, not waiting to hear how he’d reply.
Best guess—for reasons known only to him—he’d intended to offer to find me an internship in return for some game of naughty professor and undergrad, or maybe offer to mentor me, use me to grade his papers and monitor his classes in return for same. But I wasn’t interested in the prize at the bottom of that box. As I hurried toward the front doors, I forgot Amy was waiting. So she startled me by falling into step.
I covered my surprise with a smile. At least I don’t have to call Angus. Or worse, take the bus. Max would be working until six, at least, so he couldn’t pick me until later, even if I begged. Not that I would. After the road trip, I needed to get my head right.
“The Pour House?” she asked.
I’d always thought that was a clever name for a coffee shop filled mostly with college students. The location was perfect, part of the small food court on campus, though unlike most of the food stands, it wasn’t a chain. They had actual arm chairs, too, if you were lucky enough to snag one. I’d been known to buy juice and circle on cold or rainy days.
“Yeah. Do you want the usual?”
“I invited you, so I’m buying.”
Since I didn’t want to be here, arguing would only prolong the inevitable. Yet as she walked to the counter, I admired the curve of her legs, her ass and the swing of her shiny chestnut hair. Amy might be needy but she was also gorgeous, an empirical truth she found impossible to accept. It was late enough that I found us a table right away, not as cozy as a pair of padded chairs; that was better for conducting a conversation quickly. The public venue reassured me, too. If she got dramatic, I’d have witnesses about how it went down at least.
A few minutes later, she brought her skinny latte and my apple juice. “Thanks. So what did you want to talk about?”
“Us.” She headed off my instinctive protest by raising a hand. “I know, that’s over. But I need to apologize for the way I reacted when we broke up.”
“It was pretty awful,” I admitted.
And still is.
To this day, because I looked a certain way and Amy didn’t, people dyke-coughed when I walked by. You’d think that mentality wouldn’t survive college, but some people never outgrew the inner asshole. The last time it happened, Max nearly beat some guy into the ground and came pretty close to being arrested. I hunched my shoulders.
“It’s not an excuse, but...I was so much more into you than you were me. No matter how hard I tried, you didn’t let me all the way in, and it made me a little crazy.” She gnawed her lip, obviously repentant. “Again, not a good enough reason. Plus, I had some things to figure out.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The thing is, Courtney...I’m not bi-curious. I’ve had a couple of boyfriends, and it never felt right. I didn’t even like sex until you... Until we—”
“Oh.” I shifted, taking a sip of my drink to cover my astonishment. Unless I’d completely misread the subtext, she was coming out to me. Why, I had no idea.
“Don’t look so worried. I’m not planning to make your life miserable. I’m with Elena now, and it’s good.” She paused, then added, “There’s no wall between us.”
Maybe she had a point there. In our relationship, I never really tried to love her because most of me didn’t want to. The sex was fantastic, but after a while she’d picked up on how emotionally detached I was. For me, it was good orgasms and time spent hanging out while Amy was kind of falling in love. I hadn’t meant to hurt her.
“I’m sorry if I made you think, if I implied—”
“You didn’t. I just wanted more than you could give. When you realized and broke it off, I reacted horribly. I wish I could get a do-over. This time, I’d be mature and understanding, then when you saw me later, you’d be all, ‘There’s my gorgeous ex. I can’t believe I let her get away,’ instead of wearing the o
h-no-it’s-crazy-Amy face every time our paths cross.”
“So basically you just want to make peace?” I could live with that. There was no undoing the damage her lies had inflicted but it didn’t serve any purpose to nurse a grudge. Shining a light on my love life since Eli died didn’t leave me feeling very cheerful, either. No matter who I hooked up with, I shied away, over and over again, from emotional intimacy.
“I’m not even asking for us to be friends. I just wanted to say I’m sorry and clear my conscience. Elena thinks I need closure.”
“Then consider us closed. Do you mind taking me home now?”
“Not at all.”
I had to give her directions, which was reassuring. If she’d honestly moved on and started a healthy relationship, she had no reason to pay attention to where I lived. Hell, maybe I could learn from her since I’d been trapped in a holding pattern for years. I thanked her and hopped out of the car outside our apartment. Max was parking his motorcycle as Amy turned around.
He jogged over to me wearing an incredulous expression. “Tell me you’re not back with Crazy Amy.”
“Don’t call her that. She just wanted to say she’s sorry.”
“Sure. Then she’ll be leaving dead cats on our doorstep.”
“She had her reasons for being pissed when we broke up.” I couldn’t feel good about laying all the blame on her anymore. It would make anyone feel shitty to realize they were just a warm body in my bed and I was killing time.
“I don’t give a fuck. She hurt you, I’ve heard you crying. So I don’t care what she was thinking or feeling, and I never will.”
“Okay, settle down. Have you been drinking Red Bull? It always makes you fractious.”
He balled up a fist. “This isn’t funny, Kaufman. Promise me you’re not going out with her again, ever.”
“Easy. She’s got a girlfriend. That was...closure.” Stupid word, but he relaxed visibly.
“Don’t scare me like that. You deserve someone a thousand times more awesome, someone you can love like you did Eli.”
