Chapter 34 Max
THIRTY-FOUR
MAX
Morning creeps in soft through the blinds—gold light cutting across the pale blue walls of Eli’s room, catching the little dust motes drifting lazily in the air. The house is quiet, the kind of quiet that only exists right before everyone else starts to stir.
Eli’s still asleep, pressed against me.
He’s sprawled across my chest, his hair a mess, his mouth parted just slightly, breathing slow and even. One of his legs is thrown over mine like he decided sometime in the night I wasn’t going anywhere. And he’s right. I’m not.
My fingers trace slow, idle lines down his back, over the dip of his spine where the sheet’s slipped low. He shivers once, murmurs something that sounds like my name, and then blinks awake—eyes heavy and soft and unguarded in the morning light.
“Hey,” he whispers, voice rough with sleep.
“Hey,” I murmur back.
For a few seconds, neither of us moves. It’s too perfect—too easy—to stay like this.
“Were you watching me sleep?” he asks, a slight smile tugging his lips up.
“Maybe.”
“That’s creepy, Calder.”
I drag a hand through his hair, catching his chin and forcing his gaze back up to mine. “You drool when you’re out cold. Thought you should know.”
He groans, buries his face in my chest, laughter muffled against my skin. “Great. You’re ruining the illusion that I’m charming all the time.”
“Pretty sure you lost that illusion the second you tried to talk in your sleep about peppermint cookies,” I say, smirking.
He freezes for half a second, then starts laughing harder, the sound vibrating against me. “Oh, I definitely dream about those.”
I tilt his face up with my hand, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth. “You dream about me, too?”
He doesn’t even hesitate. “Always.”
Something in my chest pulls tight and full, that dangerous kind of feeling that’s too close to love to ignore anymore. I can’t say it—not yet—but I can let him see it. So I kiss his forehead, his temple, the corner of his mouth. Small, reverent things.
He sighs, his smile fading into something softer. “What time is it?”
“Early,” I whisper, glancing at the clock. “Your family’s probably still asleep.”
“Perfect.” He settles closer again, cheek pressed to my collarbone. “We’ve got the coast later. Mom said the weather’s supposed to be warm enough to actually sit on the sand. You ever seen the ocean, Calder?”
I shake my head. “Only lakes. Ice. Rinks.”
He props his chin on my chest, grinning at me as if I just confessed I’d never had sugar. “Then today’s gonna ruin you for anything else.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His hand finds mine again, fingers tangling like it’s second nature. “You’re gonna love it. I’ll make sure of it.”
And the thing is—I already know he will. Because if it’s with him, I’m probably doomed to love it all.
Eli shifts, slow and deliberate, until he’s hovering above me, sunlight sliding over his shoulder and catching in his hair. His fingers trace my jaw, then the edge of my mouth, as though he’s memorizing me.
“Morning looks good on you,” he murmurs.
“Yeah?” My voice comes out low and rough with emotion.
“Yeah.” His thumb sweeps over my lower lip. “You look soft.”
I almost laugh, but the sound catches somewhere in my throat when he leans in and kisses me—unhurried, like there’s no clock in the world that matters. His mouth moves against mine, and the quiet stretches around us, filled with nothing but the sound of our breathing.
It’s easy to fall into him. Easier than anything else I’ve ever done. Every time he shifts closer, the air gets heavier, thicker with the kind of closeness that blurs the edges between us.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, both of us breathing a little harder. His voice comes out barely above a whisper. “You okay?”
He smiles—small, tender—and presses another kiss to the corner of my mouth, then another. His fingers slide along my neck, steadying me, grounding me, and something in my chest just gives way.
All the walls I’ve been holding up, all the things I thought I wasn’t allowed to feel, come undone in one quiet breath.
“I love you,” I whisper.
He stills for a heartbeat, eyes searching mine like he’s making sure he heard right. Then he exhales, shaky but sure, and leans in until his lips are against my temple.
“I love you too, Max,” he says, so quietly it almost disappears into the morning light.
And the world just…stops.
There’s no rush, no noise, no performance—just the two of us, tangled in sheets and sunlight, hearts pounding in sync. For the first time in longer than I can remember, everything feels simple.
As though love was always supposed to sound like this—soft, certain, and real.
He’s still looking at me like he can’t quite believe what I said when I reach up, catch the back of his neck, and kiss him again—deeper this time. His breath stutters, and I feel it, the exact second the moment shifts.
I roll us carefully, pressing him into the mattress, his curls fanning out against the pillow. His eyes go wide for a beat, and then his hands are in my hair, tugging me closer.
The sunlight spills over us, warm against skin, and everything feels heightened—the slide of breath, the press of bodies, the quiet sounds that escape between kisses. I trace my fingers along the line of his ribs, the flutter of his pulse under my palm.
He arches up into me, a soft sound catching in his throat. “Max…”
“Shh.” I press my mouth to his jaw, his neck, the place just below his ear that makes him shiver. “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”
His hands tighten on my shoulders, pulling me down until there’s no space left between us. Each kiss grows slower, deeper, filled with everything I haven’t said until now. The air hums with it—all that want, all that care.
Eli looks up at me, eyes dark and glassy in the light. “Say it again,” he whispers.
I do. Quietly. Like a promise. “I love you.”
His chest lifts, a shaky breath leaving him as he smiles—soft and a little wrecked. His thumb traces the corner of my mouth. “Then show me.”
I do that, too. Not rushed, not desperate—just a slow, steady rhythm of closeness. The kind where every touch feels like it means something. His breath catches; mine does too.
The sheets shift under us, the air warm and heavy with the quiet sound of skin brushing skin, of whispered names and half-formed sighs.
His fingers drag down my back, leaving trails that make me shiver.
I watch his face, every flicker of it—the way his eyes flutter closed, the way his lips part when I run my fingers between us and stroke him long and slow, until he arches up into my touch.
Then I reach for the lube in his bedside table where we stored it and prepare him for me until he’s moaning softly. When he’s ready, I roll on a condom, wishing not for the first time that we could do this without one. Soon. I mentally promise myself.
I press into him, groaning low into his shoulder as I do. Fuck, he’s always so tight. I’ll never get enough of him. Even as I move over him, each stroke deeper than the last, I’m thinking of ways to make this work on campus, how we can do this without hiding from everyone.
“You feel so good, Eli. I love you so fucking much. I’ve never loved anyone more than I love you.” The words spill out of me, completely unrestrained, and he gasps in pleasure with each one, making me want to shower him with how much I love him.
I stroke him in time to my thrusts, determined to make him orgasm with me. My motion becomes erratic the closer I get, and he arches into me, spreading wider. Then he’s cumming and I’m right there with him. Falling over the edge and into the pure bliss of the abyss.
Everything slows down. The world narrows to the rise and fall of his chest against mine, to the steady heartbeat under my palm. The light through the blinds paints us in soft gold, and I think this must be what peace feels like.
He opens his eyes, still hazy, and smiles that small, real smile that’s only ever for me. For a second, it’s just us—no noise, no distance. Just the quiet certainty of being seen and loved exactly as we are.
Eli lifts his hand, presses it softly against my chest where my heart’s still racing. His voice is low, teasing but gentle. “And the Grinch’s heart grew three sizes that day.”
I laugh under my breath, catching his hand and kissing his knuckles before leaning down to brush a kiss against his nose. “Careful,” I murmur. “Might burst right out of my chest.”
He smiles, eyes closing as he settles against me again, and I hold him there—content to let the morning stretch on forever.
The drive to the coast feels like a dream.
Windows down, sunlight flickering through the trees, the radio spilling out old songs that neither of us should know the words to but somehow do.
Eli sings loud and off-key, his hand drumming against the console, while I keep glancing over just to watch him.
Every time he catches me, he grins and keeps singing louder.
By the time we reach the beach, thanks to Google Maps, the sky is the kind of blue that looks painted. The air smells like salt and wild grass. I park, and before I can even grab the bag from the backseat, Eli’s out of the car, wind tugging at his hair.
“Come on, Calder!” he calls, already barefoot, jeans rolled up, leaving a trail of footprints across the sand.
I follow, shoes in hand, until the surf curls around our ankles—cold but not unbearable. He laughs when I flinch at the first wave, the sound carried off by the wind.
“Not the same as a rink, huh?”
“Definitely wetter,” I say, and he shoves my shoulder playfully.
We walk for what feels like forever, talking about nothing and everything. College. His family. How he used to come here as a kid. Every word feels easy, like the day itself is conspiring to keep us happy.
At one point, we stop near a line of dunes and spread out a blanket his mom packed. Eli collapses onto it, squinting up at the sky. “This is it,” he says. “Perfect day achieved.”
I drop down beside him, leaning back on my elbows. “You sure? We haven’t even done the tourist stuff yet.”
“Oh, we will,” he promises. “Boardwalk, ice cream, maybe even one of those terrible souvenir photos where they green-screen us onto a dolphin.”
I groan. “You’re not serious.”
“Completely serious.” He rolls onto his side, eyes glinting. “You’ll frame it, too.”
“Over my dead body.”
“Fine. Then I’ll frame it.”
He reaches out, brushes sand from my arm, and the touch turns the whole world quiet for a second. It hits me then—how easy it is to love him, how impossible it is not to.
We spend the rest of the afternoon chasing waves, eating fried shrimp from a paper basket, and sharing a melting cone that drips down his fingers. He licks the chocolate off, catches me watching, and laughs like he’s already caught me doing something scandalous.
When the sun starts to sink, painting everything gold and pink, Eli leans his head on my shoulder. “See?” he says softly. “Told you I’d ruin you for anything else.”
He’s right. The world could end right here, and I’d still think this was the best day of my life.