19. Sage
NINETEEN
SAGE
NOW
By seven, we have Mom’s room cleaned out, all her stuff packed up and away. Some shit I kept, like her stupid blankets. Most of it went to Goodwill or a thrift store in town. Luna and Lizzy took the bags for me, but a lot of it got tossed.
I thought it would be hard, going through her life, packing it away. But with Luna and Lizzy there, it wasn’t too bad. It only got easier once Mac showed up. We’d laugh at mementos of our childhood, and share good stories about Mom, some bad ones too. But it wasn’t as painful as I feared.
Maybe because we did it for us. It wasn’t to rid her out of the trailer; it was so we can have our own space. To start something new. Whatever this something new is.
Lizzy said she can steal some bed sheets from the hotel she works at as a maid. Luna brought over a vacuum and a shit ton of bleach. There were some questionable stains on the mattress that took a while to get out.
Now that Mom’s room is cleared out, we are all sitting in the living room with open boxes of Marian’s Pizza and beers. All of us are laughing over something stupid, but I keep looking at Mac.
I can tell he is antsy. I’ve caught him stopping himself from touching me too much or sitting too close.
We’ve been out in the living room for thirty minutes, and he’s stopped himself from touching me fifteen times.
Asshole jumped when I touched his hand over the pizza.
Some real teenage girl shit, if you ask me.
Finally fed up with whatever this is, feeling good surrounded by friends and Mac—or maybe the beers have gone to my head—I stand from my spot on the floor and plop my ass down on his lap.
Not gonna lie, it’s fucking weird sitting on another man’s lap. I personally have never done this before. Not a hundred percent sure what to do with my hands. But I’m here now, so I’m gonna sit this out.
Mac doesn’t miss a beat. He grabs my thighs and pulls them over so I’m sitting sideways on his lap, his face a beaming smile. His muscles unclench and he relaxes into the couch. Why do I feel proud? Like, I fucking did that! Me! I fixed it! Booya, fuckers!
“Ok, that’s fucking adorable. Right, Lizzy?” Luna laughs, but I’m still looking at the smile I put there.
“Yes, Luna, it is in fact adorable. But I think that’s our cue.” Lizzy’s voice is full of amusement. I don’t look, but I hear her stand and grab a pizza box off the coffee table. “Come on, Lu.”
“Aw, man. But just…urgh, fine,” she grumbles, but complies.
I, on the other hand, am very distracted by Mac. He nuzzles his face in my neck, the stubble on his cheeks harsh against my skin. But it starts a slow prickle down my entire body. A sluggish stream of lust.
“Bye, ladies,” Mac says into my neck. And something about the vibration of his voice drives me crazy. I shift in his lap, the feel of his dick growing underneath me only amping me up more.
The front door shuts, closing us in together. We’re alone. Mac kisses my neck, my jaw, my fucking ear. Every spot he kisses fucking burns, setting tiny fires in his wake. I shift again.
“Sage. Stop moving,” Mac murmurs between soft kisses.
“Can’t help it.” My voice is more of a breath than actual words. “Why are you stopping?”
Mac sits back, opening space between us I don’t want.
“We should talk before we do anything else.” Well, that’s the last thing I want to do. That’s the furthest fucking thing away from what I do want. In fact, I can think of much better things he can do with his mouth than talk.
He lifts me off his lap like I weigh nothing, putting me down next to him. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, looking somewhere into the nothingness.
My stomach twists as a different kind of nerves take over. I hate important conversations, talking through feelings…let’s just say I’d rather fight Dave again than talk it out.
I spot a joint Luna left behind, sticking out from under the lid of a pizza box.
“Thank fuck for Luna,” I say, snatching that shit up, digging a lighter out of my pocket as I light it. Mac laughs, but it’s dry and humorless. Terrible weed, but it should help as I wait for Mac to start this fuckery.
“Guess we should go back to that night.” Must we, though? I pass him the joint. He sputters out a cough, and hands it back, wiping his hands on his jeans anxiously.
Even shit weed won’t protect me from this.