Becoming His

by Mariah Dietz

  I feel Max’s body tense beside me so I take a step forward, angling myself so my body serves as a barrier, trapping him behind the island. At least temporarily.

  “Do you think before you speak?” Kendall fires. “Jenny, it’s time for Paul to go home, come and say goodbye. He’s saying more creepy and awkward things!”

  “I’m not. I’m just paying a compliment”

  “Paul, can’t you be nice for five minutes?” Jenny asks, emerging from the den with Dad.

  “Bye, Paul, drive safe,” Kendall says sarcastically.

  “Well, he’s …” Jameson shakes his head, unable to describe him.

  “A bastard,” Max finishes, clenching his jaw as he glares out the kitchen window, watching Paul drive away.

  I’m slightly relieved Kyle and Caulder aren’t still here. If they had been things wouldn’t have ended nearly this calmly.

  “Are you going to drive back to school tonight?” I ask, placing my hand on Max’s forearm.

  He takes in a deep breath before turning his attention from the window to look at me. “Yeah, I need to go and grab a few things first and put them in the Jeep.” His hand rakes through his hair in an agitated fashion. “Do you mind saying goodbye to your parents for me?”

  I nod and watch him disappear before going to say my goodbyes.

  We meet outside fifteen minutes later, piling things in our cars.

  “Babe, where are your shoes?” I look down at my bare feet and up to Max as he heads toward me, his motorcycle helmet tucked under an arm.

  “At home,” I answer, taking a couple of steps toward him. “Where are you staying tonight?” I ask, stopping at the end of the driveway.

  “Wherever you are,” he answers, crossing the remaining distance to me. “I’ll follow you.”

  “Hey, get your asses moving,” Jameson yells. “By the way, I’m going to check out that new gym by the house. I need to get back in a routine.”

  “Don’t count on me,” Max says, pulling me tighter to his chest.

  “Drive safely,” I say, kissing the front of his shirt.

  “You too, babe.” He places his hand gently under my chin and tilts my face up to meet his lips and softly kisses me.

  I watch him as he walks back to his driveway where Jameson and Kendall are waiting in the Jeep.

  Jameson drives like a maniac. I already know this, but he’s reaffirming it tonight as he swerves across the interstate, cutting off multiple lanes of traffic in one hazardous move. I grin, watching Kendall’s arms fly in the air, knowing it’s being followed by a rant.

  For most of the journey I keep my eyes on Max as he stays directly behind me. Occasionally I catch the sight of his tattoos under the lights. You can’t see his face at all with his helmet, but a few women still honk or call out to him, and he acts completely oblivious to their attention.

  When we arrive at my apartment Abby’s gone and nothing is written on our dry-erase board. I’ll need to reach out to her tomorrow and try to iron things out, or at least begin the process.

  “What do you want to do tomorrow?” Max asks, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

  I shrug, not having put much thought into it. “Why don’t we head to Balboa Park,” I suggest. Max smiles in agreement and we head to my room. Max begins rummaging through movies.

  I grab a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt and go to the bathroom to wash my face and change. When I return, Max is stretched out on my bed, wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a white undershirt.

  “Since when do you sleep in pajamas?”

  “Since my girlfriend told me she wanted a week after the first time we slept together.” He looks down at his clothes. “Extra barriers,” he explains.

  I laugh and sit beside him. I’m slightly shocked that the subject of sex and my inexperience doesn’t have me attempting to change the subject. In my head I hear my freshmen health teacher, Mr. Boyd, instructing the class that “if you aren’t ready to talk about sex, you aren’t ready to have sex.”

  “How are you feeling? Are you sore?” Max asks, running his hand through my hair and down my cheekbone. Friday night he had asked me repeatedly if I was okay, and then again on Saturday night once things were settled.

  I am, but I shake my head. “Now I just want more.”

  Max grins. “Are you saying you just want me for my body?”

  “Are you saying you’re objecting?” I tease, walking over to the door and flipping off the lights.

  The TV casts a light glow in the room, illuminating Max as he stands and intercepts me at the side of the bed. All we do is kiss, but it’s filled with passion and promises and is hot as hell.

  The next morning I open my eyes and see Max’s face inches from mine, his eyes still closed. I stare at him, memorizing every minute detail—every line, every curve, every eyelash. There’s nothing extraordinarily special about this moment, nothing significant and earth-shattering, yet I know instinctually that I’ll remember it and how Max makes me feel for the rest of my life.

  I must have drifted off again. When I stretch my arm out to touch Max and feel nothing but cool linen, my eyes pop open and glance toward my attached bathroom to find the door wide open and the lights off. I incoherently mutter my disappointment into my pillow before I climb out of bed and check the rest of the apartment with no sign of him. I check my phone to ensure there aren’t any messages before going to take a shower, deciding that Max must have gone with Jameson to work out. My mom’s right; our generation has missed out since pen and paper is archaic.

  I finish rinsing the shampoo from my hair as the shower curtain slowly opens, making me scream and flail in a maneuver that I’m sure is anything but sexy.

  “Sorry, sorry!” Max says, trying to hide a smile. “I was just going to see if I could join you, not scare you.”

  “Did you not watch Psycho?” I cry, feeling my heart race through my palm clinging to my chest.

  “I’m surprised you have,” he teases.

  I splash a handful of water at his face and chest. “Get in here, Norman Bates.” He laughs and pulls off his clothes with a couple of swift movements before getting in the shower.

  My eyes travel over Max, etching every detail of him into my mind that I wasn’t able to see earlier this morning. He’s so beautiful it’s difficult for my eyes to focus on a single spot as they rove over his face and body, devouring him.

  “Where did you go?” I ask, reaching for the conditioner as I shrink back so I take up as little room as possible. Shower scenes in movies have both characters looking flawlessly beautiful with water cascading over them, making them look sensual and sexy. Glancing over at Max, it confirms that he could easily do one of these scenes. However I can feel my wet hair sticking to my shoulders in thick clumps, and there’s a pretty good possibility that I have raccoon eyes from my mascara, plus the obvious fact I’m naked, surrounded by very bright fluorescent lighting. Thank God I already shaved.

  Max intercepts my reach for the conditioner. Opening the bottle, he pours some into his palm. “Coffee and muffins.” He nods at me, eyeing my hair. I look at him, seriously considering objecting to this idea, when he holds up his other hand and extends his index finger down and turns it, indicating for me to turn.

  He gently rubs the conditioner through my hair, massaging my scalp with the pads of his fingers, and I feel myself relax against his touch.

  “No more disappearing acts for you either.”

  His hands fall to my shoulders and I tilt my head back, basking in his touch.

  “I didn’t disappear. I was gone less than fifteen minutes. You weren’t supposed to wake up.” His lips graze along the tender skin behind my ear, leaving a soft trail of nips and kisses along my shoulder, making my heart race faster than it had when he’d startled me.

  He grabs the sides of my shoulders and turns me to face him. His hands run down to my hips, where he softly clutches and walks me back a couple of steps so I’m under the shower head. I close my eyes and r
each up to rinse my hair and hear Max let out a small groan.

  “I have to get out of here or I’m going to attack you,” he says gruffly.

  I open my eyes and feel the water running down my face to find he’s gone to the far end of the shower and grips the shower curtain, prepared to get out. I cross to him and press my body against his and kiss him.

  “I need to go get a condom,” he says, pulling back from me.

  I grab his wrist and he looks at me and shakes his head. “Max, I’ve been religiously taking the pill since I was fourteen. The statistical probability of—”

  He interrupts me by pressing his lips to mine. He pulls back slightly and cups my cheek in one of his large hands that feels hot against my skin while his bright blue eyes lined with dark lashes shine with dampness from the shower and hold mine. “One day, I want you to wear nothing but that expression and use more phrases like statistical probability.” His voice is thick as he leans down and kisses me again. Hands glide down my sides, falling on my lower back as he takes another step closer to me. My mind begins spinning, wondering how in the world this works as the overwhelming sensation of clumsiness fills me.

  “Stop thinking.” Max growls.

  My eyes flash open, wondering how in the world he knows I’m contemplating this entire scenario. He stops kissing me, pulling his head back so he can stare into my eyes as I watch him read me.

  “Would you rather—” I shake my head before he can finish, diligently working to tune out the visions of us falling and breaking our necks in here. I place my hands on his shoulders and press my mouth to his as I lean further into him. He groans a deep, throaty moan that I feel against my lips. His hands grip the back of my thighs, silently urging me to wrap my legs around him. As I do, I wonder if every girl fears that they feel like a whale in this situation. My thoughts cease as I feel the cold tile against my back and Max’s heat against my front. He deepens the kiss, and my excitement and need consumes me as I run my hands over his short hair, trying to pull him closer to me.

  “There’s nothing sexier than seeing you turned on,” Max rasps.

  I open my eyes to see him looking at my face hungrily.

  “God, I want you,” he whispers, shoving himself further against me. His words and arousal are enough to make my entire body clench with need, causing heat and pressure to burn low in my belly.

  I lean forward and kiss along his jaw, feeling the prickly roughness from his scruff, and it excites me even further. I arch my body against his, silently begging him.

  “Tell me you want me.” Max’s voice is a pleading whisper, and I pull back slightly to look at his face and see doubt in his eyes that I don’t understand nor recognize.

  I place both of my hands on his face staring into the blue abyss where I completely lose myself and any inhibitions that I have left. “I want you,” I softly confirm, tightening my legs around his waist. “I want all of you, Max,” I whisper, dropping my hand to land on his chest over his heart, feeling the warm steady beats accelerate.

  Max closes his eyes, accepting my words, and when he opens them I find a resounding calmness as he squeezes my thighs and pulls me back slightly before plunging inside of me, taking the air from my lungs as he kisses me with an immeasurable amount of hunger.

  We never make it to the park. Max leaves the confines of my bedroom only once, and that’s to answer the door when we order Chinese takeout late in the afternoon.

  We spend the rest of the day lazily sprawled out on my bed like it’s a sanctuary, taking time to slowly and thoroughly study one another’s body and the reaction from each part as it’s nibbled, kissed, sucked, and licked in a mind-blowing, tantalizing experience. Periodically we speak, whispering secrets and truths, dreams and fears. It’s the most perfect afternoon of my entire life.

  The next day I walk into Philosophy and take my seat, smiling to myself as I unpack my laptop. Fingers drum along the edge of my desk and I look up to see Wes giving me a tight smile. I’m sure the shock on my face is evident as he sits at the desk that has been unoccupied on my left as his smile grows.

  “Hey, stranger. Hey I just wanted to—”

  Thankfully Professor Parker walks in before he can finish. I feel my eyebrows furrow, trying to understand what he’s doing in here, but Professor Parker doesn’t seem surprised by his presence at all.

  When class ends I again wait for Nate to get up before I stand, grab my bag, and head outside while reaching for my phone. I see that I have a text from my dad when I hear someone approaching me.

  “Ace, hold up a sec.”

  I look over my shoulder to see Wes and don’t slow my pace as I continue toward the track.

  “Okay, so this is really awkward,” he says, and I stop, turning to allow him to finish because he’s right, this is really awkward. If he wasn’t one of Max’s friends I would probably keep walking but we need to clear things up. “I had no idea.” He starts again. “I mean, he’s mentioned you several times, but I didn’t realize that Ace was short for Harper.”

  “It’s okay,” I say, shaking my head. “It really isn’t important. I just want us to forget about it and pretend it never happened. I won’t leave him, Wes. We have a really great thing between us.”

  “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.”

  The 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.

  Later 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.