by Peter Styles
He nodded, grinning. “Yep! Because there will be time cards.”
“Time cards? Come on. That’s a lot, even for you.”
“I think it’s a great idea. Increases productivity, accountability, a visceral sense of the workday starting and ending.”
“You are going to be a dictator in a pantsuit.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged one shoulder. It was a ridiculous gesture with the way he was lying, and I laughed, scooting closer to him.
He kissed me before I could kiss him. I felt his smile against mine. “Hey,” I said. “Let’s do something.”
“Do something?” Luke pulled back long enough to raise his eyebrows. “Like what?”
“Don’t sound so suspicious.” I rolled my eyes. “Let’s go, I don’t know. Explore. Let’s just do something.”
Luke scrunched his nose as he considered it. After a beat, he shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Why not.”
I hit him with a pillow. He spluttered in protest, and I laughed. “No, please, you’re suffocating me with your complete enthusiasm for hanging out with me.”
Luke cracked a grin. “Fuck off,” he said sweetly, leaning over and giving me a quick kiss. I grinned and determinedly ignored the way my heart flipped in my chest from the gesture. “I’m going to go take a shower.”
I watched him go, momentarily marveling at his naked ass. It was a nice ass. Truly, the Helen of Troy of asses.
He disappeared into the bathroom, the shower starting up. I considered following him in there, showering with him. I was curious as to what his hands would feel like massaging shampoo in my hair. I was also curious to see how many orgasms I could wring out of him before we got back to Seattle.
The phone rang before I had the chance to follow through on my curiosities. I groaned and sat up, looking around. It was my cell, I knew that at least—Luke had the absolute worst ringtone. It was somehow way worse than the default one. He claimed it was easier to hear, but I called bullshit.
I stumbled, trying to get my legs untangled from the blankets, nearly tripping and face-planting on the floor. “Fuckin’ hell,” I sighed, shaking my head.
I found my cell phone underneath my pants. I didn’t recognize the number, but answered it anyway. “Max Stephens.” I sat down on the floor and stretched out.
“Uh, hi. Mr. Stephens? This is Mark. I came out and looked at your car.”
I snapped my fingers. “Yes! Mark the Mechanic. What’s up, man?”
“Uh. Yeah. So I have to order a part to get it all good enough for you to make it back to Seattle. Now, normal delivery takes a few days. Or I can have it express shipped, and it’ll be here tomorrow, but that costs extra.”
“Oh, cool!” The mystery package was important to Harris for some reason, so I felt pretty confident that he was willing to pay a little extra for the job to get done faster. We could get the part tomorrow, deliver the package, and be back in Seattle in three days’ time.
The shower shut off. I heard the sound of a towel being pulled off the rack, Luke whistling as he got out.
Harris would be willing to pay. But a sooner delivery meant sooner getting back to Seattle—less time with Luke.
I knew that Luke was happy right now. Hell, I could hear him whistling. I might not know Luke very well yet, but I had known him for a long time. I knew he was happy right now.
But Seattle Luke? The Luke who was maybe out but also maybe not, the one who detested me in every single way?
I hoped that things would be different than when we left. But—
Luke came out of the bathroom, a towel tied around his waist. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. His short blond hair was plastered to his face, and he had a concerned expression on.
“A few days is fine,” I said into the phone.
Mark the Mechanic stuttered a moment. “You want to wait?”
I locked eyes with Luke. “Yeah, a few days will be okay. Just call when the part gets here?”
“Okay. I’ll call you then.”
I hung up the phone and spread out on the floor, leaning back with my arms behind me.
“Good shower?”
“Shut up,” Luke rolled his eyes, smiling. “Who was that?”
“The mechanic.” I nodded my head to the ground next to me. His lips twitched; he grabbed boxers from his bag, slipping into them, before coming over to sit next to me. “He has to order a part, but it’ll be here in a few days, and then it’s an easy fix.”
Luke groaned. He sat next to me, mimicking my pose. “That sucks.”
“Hmm?” He had dark bruises on his neck and collarbone. There was one on his upper thigh. I had marked him like a teenager—a flush of heat went through me at the sight.
“It sucks that we’ll have to wait so long before delivering the package.”
My eyes snapped up to his. Momentarily, I felt guilty about not discussing the decision with Luke. But then his head tilted and he leaned in, kissing me gently, and I forgot to feel bad at all.
— — — —
“I’m going to move here,” I mumbled around a full mouth, a low groan building in my chest.
Luke wiped his lips. “You don’t even know where here is.”
“It’s—somewhere just outside of LA. Who cares. I’m so happy here,” I moaned.
Luke raised his eyebrows. “Because of this burger?”
“Because of this burger,” I agreed. I took another bite and shook my head. “This is so fucking good.”
“You are insane,” Luke said, grabbing a handful of fries.
“I’m living life, man.” I held my arms out and grinned. “Learn to embrace it.”
Luke rolled his eyes. He held out a hand.
I cocked my head. His hand was in the air between us, and his eyebrows were raised expectantly. Tentatively, I lifted my hand and intertwined our fingers.
Luke burst out into laughter. “The hell are you doing?”
“You gave me your hand!” I drew my arm back, refusing to blush or be embarrassed. My skin did not pick up on the hard move we were trying to pull.
“I was trying to get your burger,” he explained slowly, reaching out and grabbing the wrapped burger from me. “To taste it and, uh, embrace life.”
“Oh.” I shoved it at him. “Have at it. I’ll try your—” I looked down at his food and frowned. It was a big green salad with walnuts. “Rabbit food.”
Luke ignored me and took a bite. I watched in rapture as he chewed, his eyes falling shut, and his chest rumbling with satisfaction. He swallowed. “That is really good.”
My mouth felt dry. I shoved some of his salad in my mouth so I wouldn’t do something like leap over the bed and crash into him. It was a very good salad; I refused to admit that.
“I told you.”
My voice sounded wrong. He handed me the burger back, a small smirk on his face. Asshole.
Luke grabbed his salad and stabbed his fork into it. “What do you want to do with the rest of the day?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. I dragged a French fry through the ketchup we had poured on a piece of my burger wrapper.
We had already walked around the small area of the town that we could get to on foot and found a few places to eat. The diner was packed, so we’d taken our lunches back to the hotel room, but there was another small restaurant that looked good that we could do for dinner. I didn’t see much of anything to do here besides eat, though.
“We could rent a car,” Luke suggested. “Maybe the dealership has one we can borrow, see if there’s anything nearby fun. I could even drive!”
“No,” I replied automatically. I threw the fries in my mouth.
Luke frowned. He stabbed a piece of spinach. “What’s all that about?”
“What?”
“The driving thing.”
I carefully did not tense my muscles. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Luke furrowed his brows. “Um, yes, you do.”
“Nope.” I bit off
a huge bite of the burger. “This really is good—”
“Max.” Luke set his fork down. He caught my eye. “Come on.”
The air between us felt heavy. It sat, stretching out between us, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. It—was an opening. To explain myself to Luke, to make this something between us more than just physical.
My throat closed up. I couldn’t do it.
Luke frowned and looked away. He picked up his fork. The air started to shift again.
“I don’t let other people drive,” I blurted out. Luke’s head snapped up. I could barely breathe. “I never do.”
Luke set the fork back down and leaned back. His ankles were crossed, arms slightly behind his body. He tilted his head, quietly waiting.
I took a deep breath. “I don’t let other people drive because—bad things happen.”
“Happen? Or…” Luke hesitated. He sat up. “Happened?”
“Happened,” I said quickly. I looked down at the food between us. My appetite was completely gone.
Luke carefully collected the rest of our food and put it in a plastic bag. His eyes flickered between what he was doing and me, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. I wondered if I had ever heard Luke be this quiet when it wasn’t an aggressive silence he was using against me.
I considered reveling in it, basking in the glory that was Luke Wilson not saying something to be nice, but the moment was too somber to enjoy.
I sighed and forced the words out. “When I was seventeen, I—I was dumb. Right? I mean, seventeen-year-olds are dumb.
“Except that Jeremy wasn’t. Jeremy wasn’t dumb, he was—smart. Really smart. He got early admission into Stanford; he was going to be a lawyer. Save the whole damn world.”
I could see him now—his ridiculous, shoulder-length curly hair. I used to tug at it, twirl it around my fingers. We used to joke about how sad it would be to cut off all that beautiful hair when he had to try and be professional.
Jeremy would kiss me, softly, like it mattered to him that I was taken care of, like I was special, and promise to grow it back out before our wedding.
I swallowed. My family knew about Jeremy. People I knew from high school, though, god, they were few and far between. And Stella, of course, who’d heard the whole sad tale on the anniversary of his death while we were trashed in a bar downtown.
We’d spent my sixteenth birthday in the back of my old car, parked out by the lake, just us and the stars and a thousand promises that we really did mean.
“Um, but.” I shook my head. I couldn’t force myself to look up at Luke, didn’t want to see that tight expression: the one that was really just pity, but every one called it concern; called it worry; called it sorrow. I didn’t want to see that on Luke’s face.
“One night we were out. We, um, liked to go to this spot. It was, god, it sounds dumb.”
Luke’s hand covered mine. My head snapped up. Luke’s eyes were soft, kinder than I had ever seen them, but there wasn’t—he didn’t look the way I thought he would.
His head was turned to one side, hand on mine. His legs were tucked under his knees, eyes wide and mouth pressed in a flat line. He didn’t look concerned, he looked—
Almost angry.
He licked his lips. “Like, your spot?”
I nodded. “Yeah, it was our spot. But—Jeremy wanted to drive. He was a really bad driver. But he wanted to drive, even though I always drove, and—”
I stopped. Luke scooted closer to me. His other hand closed around mine, until my hands were trapped inside of his. He sat with me, carefully watching, until I could continue.
“He died on impact. I was knocked out. I—don’t remember it. But I know he was driving, and then.” I shrugged one shoulder.
Luke squeezed my hands.
I took a deep, unsettled breath until my chest felt a little bit less like it wanted to cave in. I smiled, but Luke’s eyes narrowed, so it probably looked off. “Anyway. That’s—I don’t like to drive, but I—don’t want you to drive. Just in case.”
“I’ll stop asking,” Luke said firmly. I looked up at him. The angry look was more obvious now—the pinch of skin between his brows, the hard set of his mouth, the way his jaw was tensed. I looked away from him.
Luke’s hand raised and cupped my chin. He gently pushed until I lifted my head. His eyes were shining with intensity. “I’m so angry.”
“I know.” I pushed his hand away and looked at my lap. “I—didn’t mean to. I’m more careful now, and—”
“Wait, fuck, no. Max.” Luke grabbed me with both hands on my shoulders. “That’s not what I mean, I’m—fuck, sorry, I just—I’m so angry that that happened to you. You’re—I didn’t know. I didn’t know, and that just. Fucking sucks.”
My eyebrows shot to my forehead. I blinked at him. “It—sucks?”
Luke winced. He covered his face with his hands. “Shit, I’m—I’m no good at this. Talking. I’m sorry, I just...”
For a half of a second, I was offended by the nonchalant words. But then they settled and I threw my head back, laughing. “That is so inappropriate of a response.”
“I know,” Luke cried. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—I just...”
“No.” I scooted closer to him and grabbed his hands. Our fingers intertwined. “It’s okay. I know what you mean.”
“You didn’t deserve to go through that.”
I wasn’t sure what it said about either of us, but Luke’s anger felt different than the pitying concern that others had given me. Luke’s anger felt—justified.
I had never been angry. It almost felt good, to have someone carry the burden of that and feel the anger for me.
“Life is short,” I said. “I know you think that I’m—uncaring. But it’s just, life is really short. And it—sometimes you have to just let things be simple. Because the unsimple things will happen, with or without your approval.”
Luke considered that. He nodded, slowly, and I pushed forward. “I know that you think I’m rude, and privileged, and maybe I am, but that’s not—I’m never trying to upset you or provoke you. I mean, not in a mean way. I’m just messing around, and I kinda thought you liked it, ’cause you do the same to me, but I guess I didn’t read it right, or...”
I stopped. Luke was tilting his head, appraising me. Embarrassment and need and lingering sorrow clung to my throat.
Luke leaned forward. Our lips brushed. He kissed me, gently, until the ache in my chest was gone.
10
Luke
It was settling in on me that the degree to which I had misjudged Max Stephens was approaching the truly astronomical. I wasn’t sure how to come back from this.
The restaurant was some overpriced place with dim lighting and reviews on the back of the menu. We were sitting side by side in a corner booth, our knees knocking. He was sitting next to me, frowning at a menu, and all I could think was: Holy shit, I was wrong. We could have been doing this years ago.
The confession, if you could call it that, weighed on me heavily. I had known Max since we were both eighteen—this accident must’ve been a year before. And I’d had no idea.
Knowing it now, knowing how it had affected him—everything I knew about Max made more sense. As if things had shifted over a spot, and now everything was lined up in place.
I’d thought that Max was careless, carefree. When I was feeling generous, I thought it was an act. I never considered that it was a response to caring too much. That it could be genuine and honest, but not from a place of naïvety.
I could practically taste the guilt on my tongue. I grabbed a glass of water from the table and drank half of it in one go.
“I want to order everything on the menu,” Max said decidedly, setting his menu down. He turned, his elbow on the table, and propped his chin on the hand. Wrinkling his nose, he watched me. “For the love of God, tell me you’re not going to order another salad.”
“I eat more than salad.”
“You eat a lot of salad
.”
“Salad…” I sat my menu down and mirrored his position. His smile widened when my chin hit my hand. “Is good for you.”
“It’s not enough,” Max disagreed.
“For what?”
He grinned wide. “For the energy you need tonight.”
My mouth fell open and I felt my face burn. “Shut up.”
He laughed. I swatted at his elbow until his hand fell. “Just, seriously,” he said. “Order something good.”
I ignored him, but when the waiter came and Max ordered a steak, I ordered one too.
The food was good, and the beer that Max had suggested was pretty good. The restaurant was nice, but Max’s moan every time he had a good bite, and his foot rubbing up against my ankle every few minutes, was much nicer—and much more distracting.
When the waiter asked if we wanted dessert, I asked for the check. Max’s eyebrows rose; I ignored him.
He signed the credit card receipt while I thanked and tipped the waiter.
As soon as we were outside, Max threw me against the wall. He lips crashed on mine and he kissed me hard. “You’re a tease.”
“You’re the tease!” I argued.
Max narrowed his eyes. My body tingled with anticipation.
We made it back to the hotel room nearly in one piece. Max’s hands were everywhere, tugging at my shirt, my hands, my pants. He stripped me in quick flashes between hard, biting kisses and unimaginably delicious swipes of his hands across my bare skin.
He slammed me against the closed motel door, sliding to his knees and taking my pants and boxers with him. I was fully naked, pressed against the door, and Max licked a hot stripe up my bobbing cock.
“Oh, fuck.” My eyes squeezed shut, and my hips canted forward without my permission.
Max swirled his tongue around my tip. “That’s the idea,” he murmured.
I looked down at him, a whimper falling from my lips. Max had stripped from the waist up; his hair was standing up in a fuck-me mess, his normally bright eyes now dark with swollen pupils. He caught my eye, smirked, and lowered his mouth over my red cock, carefully sucking me down until I was a writhing mess.
“Max, Max, fuck, oh, God!”