Chapter Fifteen Max #3
He arched an eyebrow, his heart still fumbling a bit in his chest. “Do you want to dance?”
“I wanted to buy Matilda’s groceries.” She leaned over to poke him in the solar plexus. “But you took it away. It won’t count on my application now.” She took a deep breath. “Pre-sliced apples are horrible for the environment, by the way. They increase carbon—”
He grabbed her wrist, returning her hand to her side of the swing. “I’ll talk with you about this when you’re sober. And I’m not dancing.”
“I’m totally sober.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “Please?”
A deep sigh bubbled up from his lungs. “I don’t dance.”
“You don’t have to. Just—” she gestured wildly and he ducked out of the way “—stand there.”
“Stand there,” he repeated.
She nodded fervently, teeth biting at her plump bottom lip.
Her perfectly normal bottom lip.
He gestured to the yard, rolling his eyes. The sooner he got this over with, the better.
She hopped off the bench, grabbing his hand. “Come on.”
After a detour to grab another seltzer, she joined the bodies moving to the music.
The tentative sense of peace didn’t last long. Two of the guys near them were drunk, stumbling, and they bumped into a girl. Her seltzer fell and splashed all over Keely’s pristine shoes.
“I’m so sorry,” the girl said, her eyes welling.
“Don’t worry about it. Here,” Keely said. “Take this one. It’s not open.”
The tears in the girl’s eyes morphed to stars. “That’s so nice. Thank you.”
The girl was barely out of earshot before Max muttered, “You didn’t need to do that. The cooler is right there.”
Keely shrugged. “It’s a seltzer, not a brand-new car.”
“You’re so. . . sweet. To everyone, all the time.” Everyone except him. “It gives me a toothache.”
She craned her neck and blinked up at him. “There’s no sense in being mean for the sake of it, Max. The world has enough of that already.”
The song changed, the tempo slowing into something sultry and languid. The bass was just as heavy, but instead of warring with Max’s pulse it blended with it. He buzzed with energy.
Especially when someone bumped into Keely this time, and her hips fell in line with his.
He reached to steady her and met soft and gentle curves that were oddly right in his rugged hands.
This wasn’t like when he’d caught her coming down from the keg, or anytime they’d brushed against each other at the shelter.
This wasn’t accidental. He’d made a fully conscious decision to put his hands on her, and he’d have to live with the consequences.
“Max,” she murmured. Licked her lips. “I—I don’t know what’s going on right now.”
He tracked the movement of her mouth. It was all he could do. “I don’t either.”
The corner of that mouth twitched as she stood on her tiptoes, splaying a palm on his stomach to brace herself. Her lashes fluttered, her mouth opening a sliver to reveal the wet pink tongue nestled inside.
Keely was going to kiss him.
He shocked himself with how much he wanted it. How much he wanted her mouth on his, to taste and see if she was spicy when she wasn’t spitting insults at him, too.
But she was well past tipsy, and if the amount it took her to get that way was any indication, she didn’t get this way often.
He turned his head, and her pillow-soft lips landed on his jaw instead. He let himself have it for three heartbeats.
One for the past version of him, the Max from middle school who only wanted to be looked at by this girl, even if he didn’t know why.
One for the version of him tomorrow, who’d have to pretend this hadn’t happened.
And one for the version who stood here now, with Keely’s mouth on his skin and her hand on his stomach.
He stepped back, prying her hand away from him for the second time tonight. “We can’t do this.”
She blinked in half-speed, yet another sign he’d made the right call. Her bottom lip trembled. “I’m sorry, I thought you—” She shook her head, hair flying out at all angles. “Never mind.”
And his heart crashed onto the ground. “Keely,” he murmured, wrapping his palms around her shoulders. She shivered again. “It’s not that.”
He didn’t know what it was, didn’t have a clue, but wanting Keely wasn’t the problem.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you home.”
· · · · ·
Keely wasn’t drunk enough not to remember where she lived, so twenty minutes later, he found himself standing in Keely Sinclair’s bedroom.
It was tidy, naturally, with a light blue comforter and pillows propped up pristinely against the headboard.
He spotted a bottle of lotion on her nightstand and thought he’d finally solved the peppermint mystery for a second, before reading the label and discovering the lotion was unscented.
Odd disappointment crashed in his chest.
Her desk was organized but functional: textbooks stored vertically near her computer, a few cups of pens organized by color family. While Keely tumbled onto her mattress, he swapped an orange and a green.
Just to keep the status quo.
“Max,” she whined, propping herself up with her palms. “My feet are too tight.”
He pursed his lips to smother a smile. “You mean your shoes?”
“Yes.” She hefted one leg, waving her foot in his face. “Take it off, please.”
He did what she asked.
“That tickles,” she said, jerking out of his grasp.
Gritting his teeth, he gripped her other ankle more firmly and ripped off this one quicker.
“Hey.” She frowned. “Easy.” Her eyelids drooped. She was fading fast. “Pants next.”
His pulse skyrocketed and he let out half-hearted chuckle. “You’re on your own for that one, Key.”
She groaned and shifted before blowing an exasperated huff of air. “Whatever.” Her face twisted, and even with her features distorted, she was still stunning.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
She relaxed her face and gave him a lazy grin. “That was my impression of you. Because you’re so grumpy all the time.” She could barely keep her eyes open. “I’m so sleepy,” she added, nestling into her pillow, hair splaying out in a golden halo. “Aren’t you going to tuck me in?”
He glared at the ceiling like it might hold answers—or an escape hatch.
“This is the last thing,” he said. “And then I’m leaving.”
“Promise.” She nodded resolutely.
“C’mon then, lift up.”
Keely arched her back, all sleek curves, and Max gritted his teeth and stared hard at the blue fabric of her bedspread. He pulled the blanket out from underneath her, then back up over her prone body.
A lock of golden-brown hair hung in her face. He ran his fingertips over his palms before deciding to smooth it behind her ear, over her shoulder.
His thumb brushed her little atom earring.
Then, for absolutely no reason he was ready to investigate, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Goodnight, Key.”
She was already asleep.