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Finn
Sneakingover to LT’s place was easier than I thought it would be. Max was already in his room, more than likely asleep. He woke up with a hangover but even after that seemed to fade, he was still walking around in a daze. Having people over for dinner helped brighten his mood slightly. Until Willow and I spent a little too much time away from the rest of our group.
Oops.
I didn’t mean for her to follow me. I just needed a minute to compose myself. I’d had a raging hard-on since she walked in the door. I missed seeing her the past few days, and her scent alone was enough to bring back fond memories of what we did that night. Multiple times. With her screaming my name.
Hence the boner I was sporting.
Her tossing me a condom was meant to be playful but only compounded my issue. I wanted nothing more than to sheath myself and bend her over the kitchen island. I didn’t give a shit who walked in on us. Or that her brother was in the next room.
Being around her and not being able to touch her was pure torture, so as soon as the food was finished, I went to my room so I could have a second to breathe. To calm myself down. To adjust the bulge in my pants. I should have locked myself in the bathroom and taken care of matters. It would have been quick, too. Three pumps, maybe four. Like when I was teenager and learned how amazing masturbation was.
Now, she wants to talk.
Am I scared? Not really.
We’re on the same page. I know how she feels about me, or at least I have an idea. This isn’t one of those we-need-to-talk conversations that generally signifies the death of a relationship. No, I’m fairly sure she wants to talk about Max and that’s fine. I have a few concerns of my own about her brother, mainly the fact he’s headed down a dark path that I want nothing more than to save him from.
However, as soon as I walk through the door, my little tree gets sassy with me, my blood heats in my veins, and the last thing I want to do is talk about her brother or our relationship. It’s a damn good thing my girl and I are on the same page. We don’t need words to communicate how we feel.
Every night I wait for Max to close himself in his room before I sneak out. I’ve started wearing running clothes so at least it looks like I have a reason to be up when I return the next morning as the sun’s starting to rise, sweat covering my body. Sometimes he’s awake, sometimes he doesn’t pull himself out of bed until after I’ve showered.
Max has been quiet, more so than normal. Inside of his own head. I know he’s trying to figure shit out but I’m starting to get worried. I think it’s more than just his dad’s death that’s weighing on him. More than losing him. He won’t talk about it. I’ve tried, but he changes the topic of conversation.
He finds a way to avoid talking about it with me by inviting the guys over for poker or Willow and Kendall over for dinner. He’ll put on a good show, act like he’s back to normal, but then when it’s just the two of us again, he closes himself in his room. I’ve been checking his room for hidden liquor bottles when he’s out to make sure he isn’t hiding more than just his feelings.
I’m afraid to tell Willow how bad he’s gotten. How far he’s fallen. Max is the epitome of strength. He’s the protector. A leader. The person walking around our loft the last week is not my best friend.
All my research says to just be available. That everyone grieves differently. If he turns to drugs or alcohol to cope, I’ll step in. Until then, I’ve been casually making my presence known. Engaging him in meaningless conversation.
I’m starting to wonder if blurting out that I’m screwing his sister is the only thing that will shake him out of his haze. I know it would do the trick, but that’s not really the way I want to tell him, and even though I’ve spent every night with Willow, held her in my arms, woken her up with my lips against her neck, we still haven’t decided when or how to tell Max about us.
Because there is an us. There is no denying that.
And now, adding to his stress level, is Evie’s prom date. Joe’s a good kid. He grew up down the street, has always treated Evie with respect, but that doesn’t mean Max is going to let him take her out without giving herthe speechthe way James would have if he were still here. Nope, Max is taking on that responsibility.
I remember when James gave both Max and I the talk. It was a little different than the one he gave to Willow’s dates. Less threatening but more intimidating. Or maybe that was my view on it because he knew I had a thing for his daughter. If Max said she was off limits, I could only imagine James was on the same page.
“Hey, man. Willow’s gonna be here in a minute. She doesn’t know I’m heading back home today, so give me a few minutes to talk to her will ya?”
“Of course,” I agree as I pull a shirt over my head. When he told me Willow was bringing us breakfast, even though I’d just gotten back from her house, my dick got hard. A tent appeared in my loose-fitting shorts, and I thanked my lucky stars Max was on the other side of the island where he couldn’t see my physical reaction to the mention of Willow.
One cold shower later and my dick was under control. For now.
Until I heard her voice. Knowing he needed time to talk to her, I locked myself in my bathroom and took care of business, coming with such intensity I bit my bottom lip hard enough I drew blood.
That’s what she does to me. The sound of her voice, the smell of the vanilla lotion she rubs all over her body, the mention of her name …
I’m so screwed. Max is going to catch on because I can’t hide the way I feel about her anymore. I don’t want to.
