Chapter 15
Hunter
I was in high school the first time I had to kiss someone on stage.
We did it every night for a week in front of my parents and the whole school.
It was so convincing that people asked if we were dating.
I had to do it again in college, and most recently in a short film that I shot with friends in Brooklyn.
Each time, whether I felt zero attraction to my scene partner or something more, I was able to lock in and inhabit the character.
If there was one part of the wedding I thought I was prepared for, it was the kiss.
I was wrong.
Maybe that was inevitable. After the episodes in the fitting room and the bathroom, the spark between me and Max has been threatening to catch fire.
Still, I went into the kiss expecting to be in command.
I wasn’t. The moment we kissed, I felt like I was losing control.
Like if I didn’t cut it short, I would lose myself entirely.
I can’t speak for Max, but if we hadn’t been standing up there in front of everyone, I would have gone on for longer.
Much longer.
Now the sun is dipping below the horizon, casting the garden in long shadows and golden light, and I can’t take my eyes off Max.
The anxieties of the day have given way to something much more languid.
At one point, Doily disappears into the kitchen and emerges with a spread of slow-roasted vegetables and salads.
Everyone gathers round the garden table, naturally saving the head seat for Elton John’s gnome.
Since we’re not really doing things traditionally, Max and I end up opposite each other.
As wine is poured and the food is served, unexpected pairings emerge.
Doily and Quentin share a long rant about the declining quality of butter, while Flora and Nessie rank the different casts of Hamilton.
Max remains in my line of sight throughout.
We spend most of the meal distracted by our guests, but as we reach dessert, Max looks up and locks eyes with me right as I take a bite of lavender crème br?lée.
The sensations blur into each other and the kiss comes flooding back to me. I can’t look away.
Soon after that, someone throws on some Whitney Houston, and everyone leaps up to hit the dance floor.
I dance with Thiago, with Flora, with some guy who keeps giving me tips on how to maximise my deltoids, but Max and I keep looking each other’s way and exchanging little smiles or nods.
As it nears midnight, someone cues up ‘Wonderful Tonight’ and declares it the final song.
Max and I step towards each other for our first dance.
I’m glad we didn’t make more of a thing of this.
I much prefer it this way, when the garden is dark, and everyone else is swaying alongside us.
As I place my arms around Max, I smell his aftershave, the wine on his breath, the beads of sweat on his neck.
I feel a rush of desire so intense that I might fall over if I wasn’t clinging to him so tightly.
I mustn’t get over-excited. This is not the first time I’ve had a crush on a scene partner.
It happened during a production of Spring Awakening in college, in a role where our characters didn’t kiss or even interact that much.
But that only added to the longing. The crush ended soon after the production did because it wasn’t real.
It’s so easy to get confused when you’re acting, especially when you’re as committed to the performance as I am.
So the fact that I’m longing for Max more than ever doesn’t mean anything.
It’s simply me doing what I’ve been asked to do.
Still, I’ve had enough wine that I can admit that this feels good. A little too good, if I’m honest.
‘Are you OK?’ Max asks.
I snap back to attention. ‘Yeah. All good.’
Max looks unconvinced. ‘You were a million miles away.’
I give him a soothing smile. ‘Just thinking about a show I was once in.’
As I hold his gaze, the melody of one of my solos rises in my throat. I sing a line or two, quiet enough that only Max can hear.
Max gulps. ‘You know, you’re a very convincing performer.’
I smile as we continue to sway to the beat. There’s not a single part of me that is acting in this moment, but I’m not going to admit that.
‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘Have you ever acted?’
Max thinks back. ‘I played a sheepdog in my primary school nativity play. But I don’t think I’m very good at acting.’
‘Really?’
‘No. I give too much away.’
As I look at Max, I can’t help but smile in recognition.
I feel like I can see every single one of his thoughts.
The little crush he has on me. The way it makes him nervous and excited at once.
But maybe that’s wishful thinking. In any case, his performance today has been exemplary. I lean in and whisper into his ear.
‘You were perfect today. I believed every second.’
I don’t notice when our last guest leaves.
I must be more drunk than I realised. All I know is that, at some point, it’s very late and only the two of us are left.
As we head inside, I have every intention of going to bed.
Instead, I collapse onto the sofa in the living room.
I look up and see that Max has joined me.
I couldn’t tell you why we start to giggle. Relief, I guess. Disbelief. Pure pleasure. What starts out as giggles soon becomes full-chested laughter. Eventually, it dies down. Max smiles at me.
‘We did it.’
‘We sure did.’
I sit up and look at him earnestly. ‘Seriously though, how did you find today?’
Max hesitates. ‘Harder than I thought. But it got better. I meant what I said in our vows. I couldn’t have done it without you.’
I’m suddenly very aware of how close we are sitting. I swallow hard.
‘That’s what I’m here for.’
It feels strange to say it. With Rafferty, I never had any sense that we were there to support each other.
I was his assistant, his mascot, his accessory, while he was what – my keeper?
He cast me in my first role and paid my rent, so I definitely benefitted from our arrangement.
In many ways, my deal with Max is just as mutually beneficial.
But not even I can pretend that it’s as cynical.
‘Damn,’ says Max, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘We actually got married.’
‘Yep,’ I say.
Our legs are touching and our eyes are still locked.
Max smiles. ‘Technically, I could apply for an annulment.’
I laugh. ‘We’re not in Vegas.’
‘Yeah,’ says Max, ‘but there are still circumstances where you can get out of it.’
I raise an eyebrow. ‘Are you planning to get out of it?’
‘No, I just mean . . .’ Max trails off. ‘Obviously we haven’t, you know . . . consummated it.’
I feel a tingle down my spine. How can that word, so technical, so sexless, give me such a thrill? Maybe it’s because I can feel the heat of his thigh against mine.
‘Sorry to disappoint you,’ I say, ‘but you clearly haven’t done your research. That only applies to straight couples.’
Max stares at me. ‘You’re kidding.’
‘Nope.’
‘Wait, so . . . if one of us wanted to seal the deal by getting it on, there would be no point?’
Our eyes remain locked. I feel like he must be able to hear my heart pounding.
‘No point,’ I say. ‘No reason to do it.’
Before I know it, his lips are brushing against mine.
It’s like we’re picking up where we left off at the ceremony, except that this kiss has nothing in common with that one.
It isn’t scripted. We’re not doing it to keep up the charade.
This kiss is breathless, wild, fired by passion.
I can taste the wine we’ve both been drinking.
I run my hands through Max’s hair, then slide them down his chest and reach for his belt. Max pulls back.
I smile at him. ‘We don’t have to.’
‘No, I want to. I’m just . . .’
He can’t find the words. I try to read it in his expression. Nervous? Tired?
‘Max, I mean it. Let’s go to sleep.’
He looks me dead in the eye. ‘I don’t want to go to sleep yet.’
His breath quickens and his lips part. He no longer has to explain. He’s up for it, just as long as there’s not too much pressure. I remember that feeling, even if it was a while ago. But this can be whatever we want it to be.
‘Should I turn out the light?’ I ask.
Max’s eyes fill with gratitude. He nods in a way that leaves me breathless. I get up and press the light switch.
The room is plunged into darkness. Instantly, the mood shifts. In the early days with Rafferty, he was obsessed with looking at me during sex. He took a lot of photos, which I enjoyed until I realised he showed them to his friends.
Here in the dark, we’re free to enjoy the sensations.
I return to the sofa and fumble my way towards Max.
Our clothes come off in a hurry, but Max leaves his shirt hanging open.
Amid the shadows, I can see the hint of a treasure trail.
I would love to turn on the light and see the look in his eyes, but simply imagining it is enough to drive me wild.
I straddle Max and lean in, kissing up his neck until my mouth finds his ear. I give it a little nibble. He moans, his body twisting towards me.
‘Do you like that?’ I ask.
Max murmurs with pleasure.
I continue biting and kissing his ears. I can feel him relaxing. He pulls my lips to his and we’re kissing again. His tongue enters my mouth, his breath warm against mine.
We reach down and take hold of each other’s dicks, both equally hard. Max clutches my thigh with one hand as we jerk each other off. I press my forehead against his.
My mind goes back to that moment in the fitting room. What if we had acted on our impulses that day? If I had turned to face Max front on, let him see the effect he’d had on me, whipped it out right there and watched him fall to his knees.
Oh god. I want to do that now. That and a whole lot more. My body aches for it, but I don’t want to scare Max. Tonight at least, I’m going to follow his lead. There’s a strange pleasure in holding back, letting the anticipation build as Max takes the reins.
I can feel myself getting close. Normally I would ease off, slow things down, mix it up, but Max is moaning as if he’s close too.
I give in to the inevitable. It blooms and spreads through me.
Every nerve is alive, my pulse racing. I surrender completely, letting the wave rise until it comes shooting out of me and all over Max’s chest. He chuckles in delight as I feel him spilling over my hand, hot and sticky.
We share a few more gentle kisses, our breath mingling, heart rates gradually calming. I collapse onto the sofa next to Max, our legs entangled. I could sleep like this, but since Max wanted to take it easy, we should probably head off to our separate rooms in a moment.
But not yet. Not just yet.