Hush

by Xavier Neal

  “Mel?!”

  “Melissa,” I hurriedly correct myself. “Caught me waiting and invited me inside to hang out with her. One thing led to another and it just kinda happened. Twice.”

  “At 15?”

  “I’ve always had a good sex drive?”

  She growls loudly.

  Wrong thing to say. Even I knew that was stupid as soon as I said it.

  “After it was over, I told her I had to get going. You were probably at home and waiting for me. And to make a long story short, she didn’t like the idea of me just using her for sex. She wanted what you and I had, and she wasn’t gonna get it. So…she came after me the one way she knew it would hurt even if I didn’t act like it. She hurt you.”

  Still fuming, she shakes her head. “I can’t believe you!” My hands toss defenselessly in the air. To my shock she says, “Even then you were mine!”

  Confused I grunt, “Huh?”

  “God, Logan, are you that stupid? She knew how much you meant to me even if I never said it. She used to remind me that I was not your type and to just let it go, then she turns around and seduces you. And you let her! Your first time wasn’t supposed to be with her…it should’ve been with me.”

  Cluelessly I ask, “Are you jealous?” When she doesn’t respond I let my face break into a smile. “You’re not pissed because she was your friend. You’re pissed because you weren’t first?”

  “Shut up.” she demands, flying at me, shoving her lips on top of mine.

  Hastily, clothes are pulled off and I’m attacked with a hot mix of teeth and tongue across my neck and chest.

  Honestly not where I saw this going.

  Maxx quickly has herself positioned over me and slides her pussy on top of my cock with damn near no warning.

  “Fuck, Maxx.” Is the only way I can respond as she begins grinding herself against me. Her body is moving like it has a mind of its own.

  My hands go to land on her hips when she forces them back onto the bed. There’s a fire in her eyes that makes me wanna bust a nut already. In a feverish voice, that reminds me of my own, she commands, “Don’t. Fucking. Move.”

  Her pussy tightens around my shaft and my eyes fall shut in sheer disbelief that my girl is dominating me in my own bed. And the fact that I fucking like it. Maxx’s hips return to rolling around my cock, teasing it while taking pleasure from it like a robbery. The entire time she’s moaning loud enough to wake up the neighbors. She continues riding me, bouncing her core on top of my dick, until her breaths and body become so stiff that I know what’s about to hit.

  “Yours, Maxx…” I manage to say, my nuts clench tight in anticipation. “All yours.”

  The words send her spiraling, and her nails cut into my pecks, right across my tatt. The sharp sting of pain is enough to break free the orgasm that I had been death gripping from the minute she drove me inside of her. Collapsing on top of me, she blows her messy hair out of her face. I wrap my arms firmly around her.

  Jealousy sex? Almost as fucking hot as make up sex. But now that I think about it…it’s just sex with Maxx that’s fucking hot. My Maxx…yeah. My Maxx.

  Chapter 11

  Logan

  “You fucking cheat, I swear,” I mumble under my breath, rapidly hitting the button on the controller.

  “Mouth.” Maxx’s reminder is followed by her shooting me on the screen.

  “Was that friendly fire?” My voice rises as my character fires more rounds.

  “Loose the attitude before it becomes it a little less friendly.” she says shooting the final zombie that was attacking us.

  “Wait. Did you shoot me on purpose?” The question is accompanied by the two of them laughing while the level on the screen shows it’s completed. I roll my eyes as the front door shuts and Luke walks in wearing a pair of scrubs. Surprised to see him, I ask, “Short shift?”

  “Fill in.” he answers. Looking around at the three of us on the couch, in lounge clothes, with video game controllers, he shakes his head. “Why have you turned the living room into an arcade?”

  “Wanna play Uncle Luke?” Dean asks cheerfully.

  “No.” He starts up the stairs. “Unlike your legal guardians, I have no interest in pretending the apocalypse is nigh and the world is being overtaken by some flesh eating virus. I have enough trauma in my life, thank you.”

  When his bathroom door shuts Dean asks, “Is he always that crabby after a short shift?”

  “Nah…something’s bothering the Hart siblings. Something big.” Maxx sighs. “Hungry?” Dean nods. “Pizza?”

  “Definitely.” His excitement is obvious.

  I go to join the conversation when my cell phone vibrates in my pocket. Pulling it out I answer Frank’s call. “Yeah?”

  “My office. 20 minutes. Jake’s ready to meet.”

  “Got it.” Hanging up, I look at Maxx who is leaned back on the couch, in a pair of yoga pants, a sports bra, and one of my shirts.

  She’s made a new habit of wearing them around the house. Not complaining.

  Her hair is pulled high into a messy bun on the top of her head, and the smile on her face is genuinely relaxed. Compared to the way she’s been looking for the past few weeks I don’t have the heart to break it.

  “I gotta run an errand. I won’t be gone long.” Instantly her body stiffens, and I lean over and plant a kiss on her forehead. “I was in such a hurry to get you home last night I forgot to collect my winnings.”

  Not a complete lie. I didn’t pick up my winnings, but we both know that’s not the reason I’m heading out.

  “How much did you win?” Dean’s curiosity is as clear as the wheels turning in his head are.

  “Enough to keep your ass out of the ring and in college someday.”

  Maxx smiles, but he counters, “What if I wanna fight?”

  “You don’t.” Standing up I point at him. “Don’t take it easy on her. She’s a lot better than she lets on.”

  “I can take her.” Dean nods loading up another round.

  Looking down at her I smile. “I’ll be right back. I’ll pick up pizza on the way home, okay?”

  “All meat on mine,” Dean says scratching his stained white shirt.

  I never thought about how messy teenage boys were until Maxx showed me his laundry. Sometimes it’s disgusting. Sometimes it’s impressive.

  “Low fat cheese on mine,” Luke’s voice chimes in from behind his closed bedroom door.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I grumble and head towards the front door grabbing my keys from the bar on the way.

  ***

  As I walk into Frank’s office, I swallow the anxiety that built up on the car ride over. Inside, Frank is smoking a cigar behind his desk, and Jake is in a chair across from him, hands folded in his suit covered lap.

  “There’s our boy!” Frank throws his hands up in the air. “Still undefeated.”

  “Yup.” I adjust my shorts and sit down.

  Jake smooths his tie and slides a manila envelope to me across the desk. “My flight is in a couple hours, so let’s make this quick. I want you. Therefore you’ll sign.”

  Is that what I sound like?

  “It’s simple. I’m relocating you. So Cal for three weeks of training and then your first fight will be scheduled. In that folder you will find prices and predicted figures. Contract spans for 18 months. There are sample schedules inside, and there are very few things I am willing to compromise on. I’ve done this before. I’ve made stars more than once. Read it. Sign it. And in the back you’ll find your first class plane ticket for the day after Frank’s little tournament. As part of my agreement with him, you are to participate in it as your last fight for him. See you in two weeks.”

  Jake rises to his feet, buttons his jacket, and exits the room without waiting for a response.

  I wanna shred the shit in the folder out of spite. Who the fuck acts like that? No. No I don’t.

  “He’s always been that way.” Frank blows out a ring of smoke. “Even grow
ing up. I figured he would’ve ended up in Wall Street. Close enough?”

  I take the folder. “Winnings?”

  He opens his desk drawer and pulls out a white envelope that is overflowing like I’ve never seen it before. “Bonus, courteous of the snake that just left my office.”

  With both objects in hand, I sit back in the chair and stare.

  “Doubts, Kellar?”

  “About?”

  “Your ability to cut in the big leagues?”

  Not even a little. It’s been years since I’ve lost a fight. Winning is not something I doubt. It’s walking away the first time I actually wanna stay still. In my life it’s always been about constantly moving, staying in one spot too long gets you knocked down, but something inside of me is telling me this one time that isn’t the case. What the fuck is that feeling?

  “No. Just thinking about how much I’ll miss this place.”

  “And?”

  “Nope, Frankie. Not you.”

  He cocks a grin and takes a deep inhale of his cigar. “Make sure you give ‘em hell at the tournament, alright?”

  “What the fuck else would I give ‘em? Candy?” Standing to my feet, with the items in hand, I head back towards the door when Frank speaks again.

  “Don’t worry about the girl, Kellar. She’s only ever had eyes for one fighter. And that’s you.”

  Without turning back for another glance I exit his office and head back through the bar. The reminder that I need to order the pizza is on the forefront of my mind, right alongside the fact that the minute I get home I’ll have to tell Maxx that in two weeks, I’m walking out the door and I don’t know when I’ll be back.

  I think I’ll stop and grab her dessert. Maybe that will help the pain that I know is gonna flood her eyes and most likely make me punch a hole in our wall.

  Chapter 12

  Maxx

  These have been the longest 11 days of my entire life. You remember how hard I thought it was when we were fighting? This is multitudes worse. There’s something so fucking awful about knowing the guy that you’ve spent your entire life fawning over, that you finally have, is about to walk out your front door and not look back. The tournament starts tomorrow, and when it’s over Logan’s leaving for Cali. The land of beautiful blondes and string bikinis. Or is that Florida? Either way he won’t be here. With us. With me. Is it wrong that I fear if he’s gone for too long he’ll start having doubts about choosing me? God that’s what’s gonna happen, isn’t it? I think I’m gonna throw up.

  The dry heaving finally subsides, and I give my teeth a quick brush before I wipe my face in the bathroom mirror. Shaking my head, I do my best to touch up the little makeup that I put on and fix the tangles that occurred while I was trying to pray to the porcelain God.

  There’s a faint knock on the bathroom door before Logan uses his foot to push it open. He leans against the doorframe. “You okay?”

  My eyes glance over him in his jeans and t-shirt, his expression is unmistakable. Devastated.

  What’s he sad about? He’s the one choosing to go.

  “Fine.”

  “Maximus, don’t do that.” He shakes his head. “Don’t lie to me. You’ve been all over the place this last week and half. One minute you’re jumping my bones, and the next you’re trying not to start bawling.”

  That…may or may not be true.

  “Talk to me, baby. Please.”

  “What do you want me to say?” I turn my body and pull down my black Sherlock Holmes T-shirt.

  “Tell me not to go,” he says flatly.

  My heart jumps into my throat.

  Maybe he doesn’t wanna leave…

  “Tell me you want me to stay and I will.”

  Ah. He wants to go, but he doesn’t want me to be sad. See. This is the subject I have been fighting with since he told me. He wants to go. He needs to go. He needs to do this for himself. I just…I have to be less selfish about this.

  “Tell me what you want me to do, Maxx, whatever it is, and I’ll do it. I’ve spent enough of my life doing shit that fucks things up between us. If this is gonna ruin us then tell me right now and I’ll throw that shit in the trash. I want us to work. Whatever that means.”

  Seeing the hurt look in his beautiful blue eyes is like looking at a puppy you thought about taking to the pound. You just…can’t fight it. Look at him. Really look at him. Now tell me. Could you take away his one dream?

  Walking over to him I wrap my arms around him and look up into his eyes. “Go Logan. I’ll be here when you get back…”

  He leans down and plants a small kiss on my lips. “You sure?”

  No.

  “Of course. Now, let’s get to dinner, so you can finally tell everyone else the news.”

  Taking my hand, Logan leads me out of the room, and down the stairs where Dean is sitting at the kitchen table with his homework sprawled out. “Ready, Kid?”

  He nods, stands, and shuffles to catch up with us. I admire the way he’s beginning to put on a little weight and finally fill in. It’s nice to see the bruises have faded. At the doctor a couple weeks ago, he got a physical and is now only slightly underweight.

  No exaggeration here, he looks exactly like Logan did when we were younger. It scares me for when I’m going to start finding girls sneaking out of the house at midnight. I know it’s coming. You do too.

  In the car, the two of them discuss sports while I can’t seem to bring my mind around to join then. I chew on my bottom lip as I watch cars pass one by one, getting meaninglessly lost in wondering if their lives are complicated like mine.

  Why am I being so damn dramatic?

  “Hey, Mo—.” Dean’s voice cuts into my thoughts and I glance over my shoulder realizing the word that was about to come out. Still unsure about it he clears his throat. “Maxx.”

  I do my best not to make a big deal about what he almost just said. “Yeah?”

  “I wanna try out for basketball.”

  “Basketball?” Logan joins in. “I fucking hate playing basketball.”

  “Mouth.” My reminder gets a slight chuckle. “Besides, it’s not about what you like to play. It’s about what the Kid wants to play.”

  “And which of us is gonna have to be out there practicing at home with him?” He questions.

  “Not you.” My answer causes his shoulders to slouch. Mine too.

  “Uncle Tony likes ball, right?”

  A small growl comes out of Logan, but I respond, “He does. He could probably show you a few things if that’s the sport you wanna go for.”

  “Why basketball?” Logan demands an answer as we pull into a parking space.

  “I’m good at it. Besides, it’s much easier to see up the cheerleader’s skirts from the sidelines in that sport versus the others.”

  His comment makes my jaw drop. Logan laughs extending a fist for the kid to bump. “That’s my boy.”

  Disgusted, I open my car door mumbling, “I’m gonna pretend that part of the conversation never happened.”

  You too. That train wreck between the two of them never happened.

  ***

  Inside the family style Italian restaurant we are placed at one of the longer tables towards the back. Everyone we have come to call family over the last few months is together for the first time outside of the bar. Logan is on one side of me and Dean is on the other. Tony is sitting across from me, with Erin to his left and Stuart to his right. Luke is at one of the ends, and, like always, C.J. is at the other, closest to Erin. Our strange family. Our beautiful family.

  And we’re about to lose a member.

  Everyone shares appetizers and gives each other a hard time while I simply rest my head against Logan’s shoulder. My stomach is still unhappy, but the feeling of being this close to him at least takes a little of the edge off my nerves. He offers me bites of different things, doing his best to hide his suspicions when I deny everything including the garlic bread.

  God I love garlic bread. Like fresh
baked, hot, buttery, melts in your mouth cause it’s perfect kind. Why is my stomach churning again?

  “So basketball?” Luke sounds unimpressed. “I was a soccer hooligan myself.”

  “Me too,” Stuart says from beside him.

  Luke blushes.

  Well at least they’re talking again. Not real sure what was going on, but for a bit I wasn’t sure if we would ever get back to normal.

  “What about you, Uncle C.J.?” Deans asks.

  “I was a swimmer.”

  “That’s not a real sport.” Erin sneers picking up her wine glass.

  “It’s in the Olympics,” he argues.

  “So is interpretive dance with ribbons.”

  Her remark causes the table to bust out into snickers. Tony steps in before they can start at it again. “I played ball. I can help run some drills with you guys, Kellar, if you want.”

  My face smiles and Logan squeezes me tighter. “Actually, it’ll just be you running drills.” Confused, Tony tilts his face as the rest of the attention centers in on Logan. “I’m leaving for Cali on Sunday.” When no one responds he finishes with, “I got a deal to go professional.”

  Mixed emotions circle around the table, with a weird variety of congratulations and questions. The announcement is followed by the arrival of the entrees, the odors mixing make me light headed.

  I sit up and listen to everyone talking and asking for more information.

  Is it hot in here to you? Is it just me?

  My fork twirls around between my fingertips knowing it should stab the ravioli for a bite. The second I finally get a piece into my mouth my taste buds explode in fury and rebellion.

  “God that’s awful.” I swallow the bite and drop my fork.

  Everyone looks up from their food, and I realize I’m the only one who isn’t enjoying their meal. At the same time, Logan and Dean both attack my plate for a bite. When they groan their approval in unison, I realize it’s just me.

  “Taste good to me,” Logan says having another bite.

  “Me too.” Dean sneaks another piece.

  The smells coming at me cause my stomach to lurch into my throat and I push my chair back. “If you’ll excuse me, I have use to the bathroom.”