by Mariah Dietz
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.
My 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!”
“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.”
“You’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.
Thanksgiving 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.
“You 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.
“Happy 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 fo
r 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.
“Ace, did you watch that documentary last week on space travel?” Dad asks, puncturing my barrage of thoughts as he enters the kitchen followed by Jenny, Lilly, and Zeus.
I lean down welcoming Zeus as he buries his head in my hands. “I feel they grossly took some facts about the government conspiring out of context. I was looking up some of the remarks that they made the next day and even though they were calling themselves a documentary, they had to retract it because there were so many opinions stated that it’s now classified as a mockumentry. I can’t believe how many of these are being made!”
“I know I was watching something on mermaids—”
“No geek talk. It’s a holiday,” Jenny interjects with a warning, eyeing us both.
“This isn’t geek talk.” Dad scoffs innocently.
“Yes it is. You’re going to begin discussing theories and people that we’ve never heard of, and how they somehow relate to something political. Then Caulder will be here, pounding his chest about how republicans would never have let blah, blah, blah happen. Then Ace will start pulling out facts that most of us have never even heard of, and Caulder will be demanding proof and people will start Googling dates and quotes, and then Caulder will lose, because Caulder always loses, and then he’ll start on his anti anti-gun control spiel and get Mom on board to try to take back some of the control, and then it just becomes a free for all. No geek talk.”
