27 #2
I’m so deliciously sore, and I realize this is what I’ve been missing—someone I could let go with. Someone who won’t judge me for expressing what I need and desire. And most importantly, someone who would give it to me.
And I’ve got to say, it’s refreshing as hell.
Mitch busies himself with gathering some tissue and scrubbing my bare stomach clean, but with my blood still pumping, my muscles relaxed, and my head in a haze, I watch him with a permasmile etched on my face.
I’ve had some good sex before, but nothing like this.
Nothing that was not only physically satisfying, but that also stirred my soul.
Once he’s cleaned me up, he tucks himself away, but that’s when I realize not once have his eyes met mine. Not once has he spoken.
A heavy pit settles in my stomach. I grab him by the shirt and pull him toward the bed, but he steps back and suddenly, I’m all too aware of how naked I am.
“What’s wrong?” I sit up and bend my legs, hugging my knees to my chest.
“This,” he says. “You and I.” The bed dips under his weight when he sits down, but his wide back is very much still aimed at me.
“What about us?”
He glares at me over his shoulder. “Is that all this is? Friendship?”
“That’s all it can be.”
“Friends who fuck when they’re angry?”
“More like help each other out when they need something.”
“Oh, so you were just scratching an itch?”
“Seems to me you scratched yours pretty good, too,” I shoot back, scooting off the bed.
While I get dressed, Mitch runs his fingers through his hair and lets out an exasperated sigh. He moves to the closet and slides some shirts aside.
Though blocked by his large frame, I know exactly what’s on the back wall behind him—M & M 4 Life. Words I assumed someone would have painted over by now.
“It’s not just an itch, Max. Not for me,” he says, hanging his head. “This means more.”
I roll my eyes, but faint quivers roll beneath my skin. “We’re both in a weird place right now. We can’t trust how we feel.”
“I can.” Anger floods every plane of his serious but beautiful face. “We’re not friends.” The words slide out of his mouth with a disgusted snicker. “I won’t keep doing this.”
I giggle, but there’s nothing funny about any of this.
It’s just nervous energy. Like once during a high school exam, when Mitchell ran by the classroom and I burst out into a fit of laughter and almost got kicked out.
This is yet another example of how much Mitchell has affected my everyday life and how, even without knowing it, he was there when I needed him to be.
“You mean you won’t keep fucking me whenever the urge hits you?” I spit, but my lower lip betrays me and trembles. “You’re leaving soon, so I’m not too worried about this going on any longer than it has.”
I reach into my purse and find a hair tie, gathering my hair into a messy knot.
He closes the distance between us in two steps.
“This is breaking me apart inside. You need to know…” He lays his hands on my shoulders, a firm weight, and digs his thick fingers into my skin. It’s not meant to hurt, but meant to show how serious he is.
Unwilling to look at him, I stare at my feet, holding back tears. I know what’s coming, but refuse to hear it and squeeze my eyes shut, forcing the warning out of my strangled throat. “Don’t, Mitch.”
“I’m in love with you, Max,” he blurts, ignoring my low plea.
A breathy laugh tumbles from my lips. “Stop it.” I shove his arms away.
The magnitude of the heartache around us comes crashing down on me, and I pause, taking deep breaths, trying to still my pounding heart.
“Your dad just died. We’re all messed up about it, but please don’t turn this into something bigger than it is. Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
His expression drops as if I’ve punched him in the gut.
“I mean every word. More than I’ve ever meant anything.
” He crouches, bringing his eyes level with mine.
“Look at me,” he orders, but I refuse, darting my gaze away.
He pinches my chin with two fingers, tilting my head back.
“Look me in the eye and tell me if I’m lying. ”
As long as I can, I resist, but eventually succumb.
The lack of sunlight and dark clouds turn his eyes’ unique shade of green into something gray, something sad, but still striking.
Like moss in the woods after a rainstorm.
His pupils dilate, and I see what he wants me to.
See what’s undeniable and what I longed for years ago, but what I’m not sure I can accept today.
He brushes a loose strand of my hair back, tucking it behind my ear.
“You were the one I thought of when I woke up in the morning and the one I couldn’t wait to call when I had news, good or bad.
” His hand travels down my arm, and he takes mine, laying it over his heart.
“Nobody, not even the guys, has meant more to me than you.” He frowns, running the knuckles of his free hand across my cheek, wiping away a tear. “It’s the truth.”
“We were kids.” Speaking is too hard, and I can’t find the strength to tell him I felt the same.
“Doesn’t matter. I’ve been in love with you since I was eleven, Max, and I’m sick of pretending that I ever stopped.”
“No,” I croak, tugging my hand free and stepping back only to trip on the comforter bunched on the ground. I cuss, shaking my foot free. “That might be how you felt, but it’s not how you feel now.”
He takes my elbow, guiding me back toward him.
“Yes, it is. Something happened over the last few weeks. I’m not sure what it is, but there isn’t a fraction of me—not one ounce of blood in this body—” he says, stabbing his chest with his fingers, “that feels like we aren’t more than friends.
I’m in love with you, Max. And the thought that we’ve fucked up any chance at something bigger makes me hate myself so fucking much.
We can’t be too late.” His brow creases with his frown, but his plea settles into me when his eyes connect with mine. “Please tell me it’s not too late—”
“You fucking prick!” I shout before he says anything else. I slam my hands into his chest with a thick thud, give him a shove, catching him by surprise, and he stumbles backward.
“I’m a prick?” he chortles. “Why, because I told you I love you?”
“On the day your dad died! As if I’m supposed to believe it on today of all days.
” I keep charging at him. “And where was this declaration of love before? Years ago, before you…” My words fade and tears stream freely down my face, but I continue to push him, my tiny hands slapping against a hard wall of muscle.
He stands firm, absorbing every hit.
“You broke my heart. You left and didn’t care enough to check in. Not once.”
“Wait,” he says, frowning. “I broke your heart?”
I sniffle, blinking up at him, realizing what I’ve said. “That’s not the point. You don’t get it. This isn’t the time for—”
“Max, are you saying you were in love with me too?”
I can’t breathe. My chest is too tight to let air into my lungs.
“No, I wasn’t. I’m not. I fucking hate you.” I hug myself, suddenly freezing. “I hate that you came back. I hate that you’re in my life again. I hate that you’re saying all this now.”
My empty stomach churns and the room spins, making it seem ten times smaller. Every breath I draw in feels laced with acid and burns.
There was a time when this feeling would have impacted me differently. When I would have used sex to escape it, but sex is what brought me here.
I glance back at the bed, nausea rising in my throat. “I need to get out of here.”
Covering my mouth with my hand, I race away from his bedroom, down the hall, and out of the house as fast as I can, tears clouding my sight, Mitch’s revelation breaking my heart into a million tiny pieces.