Day 21 New Paltz, NY
SAM
THE GUY STARING BACK AT ME in the mirror looks like he needs a fucking break.
I guess the gig today was pretty chill. We played an unplugged afternoon set in a little coffee shop downtown, so loading in and out was minimal, and we finished up in plenty of time to have a leisurely dinner and check into our motel a lot earlier than usual.
It’s after ten now, and I just got out of the shower.
Maybe an early night wouldn’t be the worst idea.
I look beat to shit, and that’s pretty much how I feel, too.
There are dark circles under my eyes, and everything sort of hurts.
I’m wearing nothing but a towel slung around my waist, and my hair is still damp.
After a few weeks of swimming in salt water and lying out in the sun and sweating my ass off onstage every night, it’s faded to a soft pink that is sort of pretty, but just as pale as I feel.
There’s a purple bruise on the side of my neck, and I smile at myself in the mirror as I prod it with my fingertips.
It makes me feel good, knowing that Max likes to see his marks on me. Maybe it means something.
Behind me, the doorknob turns, and Max pokes his head into the bathroom. “Hey, can I come in?”
“Sure,” I reply, and Max crosses the small space in two strides, wrapping both arms around my waist and pressing his lips against my neck. “But um — Roxie and Blake —”
“They both passed out watching TV,” Max whispers back. He reaches for my chin, gently turning my head and leaning over my shoulder to kiss me.
I make a move to turn around and face him, but Max tightens his arms around me, hugging me close and keeping me where I am.
And there’s something intimate and vulnerable about it, standing here nearly naked, with Max clothed behind me, my bare back pressing against the soft fabric of his T-shirt as his tongue slips into my mouth.
He’s already hard, poking against the towel that clings precariously to my hips, but he doesn’t make any sort of move to get himself off.
Instead, he seems content to kiss me, hands skating over my bare torso.
I reach up, tangling my fingers in his hair, massaging through his jet-black locks, and he huffs into my mouth, one arm clamping across my hips.
With the other hand, he reaches for my nipple ring, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, and I can’t help breaking the kiss, nuzzling his cheek as a sizzle of sheer want courses through me.
“Shit, Max —”
“Shhh, let me take care of you —”
His lips are moving insistently along my cheek, and I turn my head, offering him my throat.
Facing the mirror once more, my eyes flutter open, and I watch through my lashes as he loses himself in touching me, his dark hair and black T-shirt a contrast against my pale skin.
Without taking his lips from my neck, he reaches for my bag of toiletries on the counter, feeling through it until he comes up with the bottle of lube.
“Want me to —” I begin, reaching for the bottle, but Max clamps his fingers around my wrist.
“Let me —”
And so I rest both hands on the counter, watching as Max pours a little lube into his hand, then uses his clean hand to undo my towel, letting it fall to the floor.
“You are so goddamn sexy,” he growls, then wraps his fist around my cock.
It’s too intense, one hand sliding up and down my shaft, the other teasing my nipples, Max’s hard length pressed against my bare ass.
I close my eyes, letting my head loll onto his shoulder, concentrating on the twin sensations, electric currents shooting straight to the very heart of me.
But then I hear Max’s voice, low and insistent in my ear.
“Keep them open so I can see —”
And so I force my eyes open, meeting Max’s gaze in the mirror, his brown eyes intent on my face.
His breath is hot and ragged against the shell of my ear, and it’s almost too much, every one of my nerves stretched taut.
My belly is twitching with each intake of my breath, scooped concave against the scrape of Max’s knuckles as he moves his hand, my chest heaving as my pleasure builds.
I’m a beetle pinned on a card, completely at Max’s mercy, every part of me exposed for him to see, naked in every possible way.
I don’t know for sure what he reads in my face, but to me it’s an open book, every single emotion I’ve been feeling etched in my eyes, in the lines of my face.
I can see every wall of protection that I’ve built around my heart crumbling in front of me, and I’m terrified.
It’s too much, too raw, too real — and I know that if I let him break me open like this, that everything else I’ve been feeling will burst out too, that I’ll tell him —
“Nnnnhhh —”
I manage to break Max’s grip, spinning around in his arms and throwing my own around his neck. I kiss him desperately, pouring everything I have into the movement of my lips, into my fingers clawing at his hair.
And I must be breaking his resolve too, because he’s wrapping his hands around my waist, heaving me up onto the counter.
There’s a quick scramble for the lube and a condom, and I barely have time to reflect on how quickly Max is adapting to sex with me before he’s driving into me, an involuntary grunt falling from my lips.
“Did I hurt you?” he gasps.
“No, that was perfect —”
His hands are on my thighs, fingers digging into my flesh as he pistons his hips, brow furrowing in concentration.
My face is only inches from his, my arms around his neck, the huff of his breath hitting my face.
This is my Max, the Max I’ve shared countless secrets with, the Max who puts on bad action movies and promptly falls asleep on the couch, the Max who knows exactly what to say when I’m having a bad day.
And he’s fucking me like he means it, like he wants this just as much as I do, like he wants me —
And I wish I could make my brain stop screaming.
I wish I could give in to the white-hot pleasure building up inside my gut, to the delicious agony as he pummels that bundle of nerves inside me, to the shaking of my knees, to the damp glide of my sweaty palms over his cotton T-shirt.
I wish I could turn it all off and let him give me this gift —
But I shut my eyes and I see the moths flying around Damian’s porch light as I tell him that Max and I will never be together.
I see Max kissing another guy underneath neon lights.
I see his crumpled face in the rearview mirror, his hoodie pulled down over his eyes when he thought I was angry with him.
I see the way he looked at me the first time he kissed me on a chilly basement floor.
I see every kiss that came afterward, on the beach and in bed at night and amidst a sea of rainbow flags.
I see the jut of his chin when he stood up to River for me, the softness in his eyes when he told me I could never disappoint him.
I see Max and Sage, laughing together as they bend over their guitars, and it’s a whole kaleidoscope of images, every memory I’ve ever had, flashing beneath my eyelids all at once —
Because if this had somehow happened at home, we could have taken it slow.
We would have talked things out, and maybe I would understand where Max stands now, where his head is, what he wants from all this.
Maybe I would have had the courage to tell him that every memory he has of us, every moment we’ve spent together has another color, that my secret love for him has been a constant drumbeat beneath every minute of every day.
Maybe all of this would make sense, and I wouldn’t feel like I had to live every moment as if it was my last, as if all of this might disappear at any second —
But instead I’m here, in this moment, watching my best friend’s face as he chases his peak, wondering if my days are numbered, if all of this is just a wild dream.
And I know I’m falling apart, that my mind is racing and my heart is breaking and I’m too exposed, so I wrap my arms tight and I bury my face in his shoulders and I shut my mouth, trying to keep it in.
And I’m not even thinking about trying to come, but Max has already learned so much in the past few days, so he drops a hand to my cock and pumps me in time with his own thrusts, determined to bring me off —
And I’m close, teetering on the edge, knowing I’ll shatter into a thousand pieces when I fall, but I can’t hold back, can’t stop —
“Oh god, Max —”
“Sammy —”
He’s letting go, a shuddering mess, teeth scraping my shoulder as I spill over his knuckles, shaking as I lose control.
And I’m sobbing, completely hysterical, and I’m so embarrassed but I can’t make it stop, so I cling to him while he wipes his hand on a towel and then wraps both arms around my back, rocking me in his arms, letting me soak his T-shirt as I gasp for air.
“Sammy, shhh — it’s okay, I’ve got you — I’m right here —”
“I’m sorry —” I manage to gasp.
“Don’t be —”
It takes a while for me to calm down, and I’m hating myself every minute, but Max holds on to me, murmuring into my ear as he rubs my back.
Finally, as I grow quiet, he pulls away gently, tossing the condom into the garbage and wetting a washcloth to clean me up.
When he’s done, he takes my face with both hands, and his eyes are full of concern.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Where would I even begin?
“I’m just tired,” I whisper. “This week — it’s been a lot to process. And I guess it just — I dunno, came out all at once. It’s not your fault.”
“My poor Sammy.” Max brushes my cheeks with his thumbs, and even though I’m mortified, I have to admit that it feels good. “Tomorrow, we’re going to be in Philly, and then the next day we’re home. And I promise you that we will slow down. We can spend the whole day in bed if you want.”
I huff out a laugh that’s almost a sob. “That sounds kind of amazing, actually.”
“We’ll order in,” Max continues. “And we’ll sleep and fuck and — honestly, we’re probably overdue for some talking too. But it can wait until we get home. Right now, I think you need some rest more than anything else.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Max hands me a clean T-shirt and shorts, and I slip them on.
And as we stand at the sink side by side, brushing our teeth, as we cross the darkened room and slip into bed, as Max tucks me against his side and kisses me goodnight, I realize that somewhere deep inside me, there’s a tiny flame of hope.
Maybe this will all work out.