16
Too Much
Mitch
I’ve traveled the world and seen so many things. I’ve won trophies, I’ve met all sorts of people. And yet nothing compares to the pure joy that spreads through me when Maxine’s head drops to my shoulder, making me feel like I’m a kid all over again.
The simplicity of it brings a smile to my face I can no longer hide behind my beard, so I drink my beer instead. This means nothing, she’s only exhausted.
Still, there’s a huge part of me that wants to bask in the temporary forgiveness of this moment. We’re like we were, unburdened by the baggage of years of not speaking, not wallowing in petty things that in the end don’t fucking matter.
She shimmies closer, and the weight of her head grows heavier telling me she’s fast asleep. I should help her get to bed.
As gently as possible, I cradle her head with one hand, then stand, gathering her into my arms. I nod to the gang; Spencer’s knowing smirk says more than I’d like, but luckily Hunter’s gone to take a piss, so he misses this.
I’m not sure he’d like seeing me carrying his unconscious baby sister to bed.
Balancing Max in my arms, I get into the tent and lay her down on her mattress.
I untie her pigtails, knowing they’ll give her a headache, then gently undo the braids and run my fingers through her loose strands, fanning her red waves over the pillow.
They’re like flames, framing her face in a fiery halo.
Despite years away, one thing remains absolutely unchanged: Maxine Nolan’s simple beauty still steals my breath away.
Over her shoulder, I spot my dilemma—my mattress is now a deflated pile of pillows and sleeping bag on the floor. I’m about to return to the fireside, to ignore this problem for now, but then realize that I don’t have any interest in joining them.
Usually, my life revolves around socializing and answering endless questions.
Lather, rinse, repeat. Lately, the injury, negotiations, and everything else have caught me in a perpetual cyclone of words.
But here in this small canvas dome tucked in the woods, alone with Sleeping Beauty softly snoring, and the din of my friends chatting outside by the crackling fire, it’s all so perfectly peaceful.
And up till now, I didn’t realize how much I’d missed this. The quiet. The calm.
“Screw it,” I whisper to myself, throwing a cautious glance at Maxine. She’s out cold and barely takes up half the bed, so I grab my sleeping bag off the floor and lay it down on the mattress. I undress, save for my boxers, and slide in next to her.
She stirs, and expecting her to whine and order me back to the floor, I tense.
But all she does is roll onto her side, facing me, and tuck her hands beneath her cheek.
Her eyelids flutter, her lashes kissing the tops of her cheeks, and I wonder how I’ve stayed away from her for so long.
She used to take up a huge part of my heart, my soul, my everything, and I left her behind as if she didn’t matter.
She shivers, sinking down into her sleeping bag.
“So fucking stubborn,” I whisper and move closer, but stop when she releases a small moan. Then, she rubs her cold nose against my bare chest, reminding me of all those years ago and I smile.
I could have been brave that night. Taken a chance, and changed everything.
I could have had everything I’d ever wanted, but got scared and panicked instead.
Then again, when I remember how things blew up between us a few days later, I’m sort of glad nothing ever happened.
I can only imagine how much worse the heartbreak would have been if I’d given into my feelings.
She inhales deeply. “Mitch?” she asks, her voice groggy and half-asleep.
“Yeah?”
“Are you naked?”
I laugh. “Not entirely.”
She shifts, looking up. “Did you bring me to bed?”
“I did.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be on the floor?”
“I figured since you were passed out, you wouldn’t mind. Do you want me to move?”
“No, it’s okay. Stay.” There’s a long pause. I assume she’s fallen asleep, but then she weaves her arms around my waist. “This is strange.”
“What is?”
“You and me. Are we enemies, are we friends?” Her soft exhale tickles my chest.
Confused by what’s happening, but also so strangely exhilarated, I focus on slowing my breathing. I’m not sure how I would categorize us.
“This feels like where we belong,” she adds and it’s like she’s nailed my feelings right on the head.
“Glad to see you can still read my mind.” I finally get my breathing under control, syncing it with hers, but my heartbeat speeds up when she tightens her arms around me, her icy fingertips gliding along my spine.
After a few minutes of her delicate touch, my eyelids grow heavy and a strange feeling takes over. It’s not bad, just different, lighter, like an overwhelming sense of peace. As though the entire outside world and its troubles vanish while I’m nestled in this small tent, holding her close.
“What happened to us, Mitch?” she asks, her voice so low I’m not sure I heard it.
Like a sharp knife, her question cuts into me. “We were stupid kids.”
“Is that it?” I can hear her doubt. Lightly, her fingertips slide up my back, then run down, abruptly stopping at the waistband of my underwear as if she’s hit a brick wall. “I don’t know if I can ever forget what happened. You get that, right?”
“I do. I feel the same.”
“Yeah? And how about forgiveness?”
I take an inhale, then release my breath with a soft laugh. “Sounds great in theory.”
“Hmm, at least we agree on that.” She pulls down the zipper of her sleeping bag, then slides into mine, pressing her thigh between my legs, getting as close as she can. “Yep, you’re still a human torch.”
I smile. No matter my feelings, no matter the anger that still clings to me like a leech, my body doesn’t seem to care about any of it and longs for this closeness. “What’s going on here?”
“Just keeping warm,” she replies.
A muscle in my jaw ticks. “But I thought you liked the cold.”
She slips her fingers beneath the elastic band of my underwear, and I hold my breath.
Unlike that time years ago, now we’re adults and understand the rules.
We recognize the consequences of missed opportunities and of mistakes made.
Doesn’t mean that my brain isn’t screaming for me to run away as fast as I can.
She runs her nose along my collarbone, the heat from her lips right below. “Should I stop?” she asks.
“Maybe…”
“Tell me if you want me to stop.” She feathers a light kiss on my chest, right above my heart, and it finally stops hammering. In fact, it stops beating all together.
Words don’t exist that describe this feeling, and a moan seems to be all I manage.
I slide my fingers up into her long tresses, taking a fistful and tugging her head back.
Staring into her eyes, I see the past we shared, the highs and lows.
Then, I drop my gaze to her lips as if they’re a finish line I need to cross, but I’m too afraid to reach.
Ever since I started seeing her as more than a friend, I’ve dreamed of kissing Maxine.
Back when she grew into the stunning, opinionated person I never imagined I would leave behind.
This won’t end well, my conscience reminds me, but it could very well be hers, yelling out to mine.
There’s always existed this intense charge between us, which I think is normal for two people with such a strong bond. That doesn’t mean I’m not terrified by my willingness to throw all my excuses away and surrender to the sheer thrill of this moment.
My extremities are on fire. Tiny sparks dance all over my skin. With her wrapped in my arms, everything seems a little less daunting. And the scary thing is that she knows how broken I am, but wants me, anyway. She’s always seen me as I am. And that’s probably why I’m so scared to be with her now.
Her warm breath skates across my lips when she brings her sweet mouth up to mine, but then someone screeches and we break apart.
“What the fuck was that?” Max blurts.
“Nothing,” Spencer answers far off, and I can hear someone, probably Bethany, giggling, likely the victim of one of Spencer’s unrelenting tickle attacks. “Sorry! Go back to sleep.”
I sit up, staring ahead. It’s pitch black in the tent.
“Mitch?” Maxine asks, her fingertips softly brushing against my lower back. “Come back to me.”
Something’s not right. I rub my chest with my knuckles, the pressure behind my ribs too much. I force in a deep breath, but nothing helps.
The spell is broken.
I look over my shoulder at her. “What are we doing?”
She frowns. “Letting go?”
I bite my lip, shaking my head, suddenly desperate to escape this tent, which no longer feels like a sanctuary, but a nylon prison. I pull my pants on, forgoing my shirt—my skin’s boiling, anyway.
“Where are you going?”
“I need some air.”
I round the tent and head deeper into the woods, far enough until I find a good tree. The chill helps my simmering frustration fade, along with the lingering confusion, but I perk up when I hear a noise behind me. I finish taking a leak, tuck myself away, and stay still, listening.
Something is walking through the woods, breaking branches. It’s getting closer and now I wish I had a light with me.
“Don’t come any closer,” I say gruffly, hoping to scare away whatever little rascal is coming my way. I squint, making something out in the meager moonlight moving through the trees. All I can do is freeze and wait.
Max
The sound of the tent’s zipper being forcefully shut makes me squeeze my eyes together. I lie back, hoping for sleep to swallow me whole, only it never comes.
After a while, I accept that I won’t be able to let this go. Blame it on my OCD, or my ruthless need to have closure, but now that I’ve opened this door with Mitch, I need to walk through it. I’d be better off staying here, feigning sleep so that we won’t have to talk about it when he comes back.
Only, I’m too fucking impatient.