Oh my God. Stop it, Cassidy!
"This is just this. Sex. I fucking told you that."
His words cut into me, but they bring anger rather than pain. "What? So we can’t be friends?"
After a quick glance at the door, his head dips back in defeat. "Fine."
His fingers feed through mine and he pulls me outside onto the porch in a form of defiance, knowing full well that Konnor is around somewhere. He releases my hand andwhen I try to protest, he slumps down onto the daybed and positions himself against the backboard. He smirks at me while patting the cushion between his outstretched legs. "Sit."
I scowl at him. "You're a menace."
"So I've heard."
I falter and gaze across the property, my eyes landing on a red motorcycle. "You rode Bronson's bike?"
Max watches me hesitate and clenches his jaw. "Yeah. Look, stop searching around for daddy. I saw Konnor when I pulled up. He was getting blind drunk out front. Don't worry."
My breathing stammers. "Is he okay?"
He shakes his head and smirks. "I don't really care. Your brother is too much drama."
"You actually are a jerk," I bite out.
"Another thing I've heard."
My cheeks are still warm and tingly. I run my hands down them as I contemplate. Narrowing my eyes at Max, I stroll over to him because there is literally nowhere else I'd rather be. It's frustrating as hell.
As I crawl onto the daybed, I settle between his thighs, my back and head pressed against his chest.
Moments pass and we breathe together in comfortable, pleasurable silence. I hate that my irritation towards him is dwindling.
The last minutes of the day are displayed in an orange and pink glow above the rooftops. I can smell Max all around me. I can feel his deep breaths behind my spine. I find his tattooed forearm draped across the armrest and drag my nails softly through its soft hair. As his skin prickles, he twists his wrist to encourage me to keep stroking him.
“Tell me about this role,” he says, kissing my temple.
His interest in my life makes me smile. I'm glad he can’t see it. “What do you want to know?"
"Anything you want to tell."
"Well, the Sugar Plum Fairy is the guide for the Land of Candy, which sounds weirder than it is. The whole story follows Clara on this adventure. It's kinda Alice in Wonderland-esque, but instead of the Mad Hatter, you have the Sugar Plum Fairy. She's sweet and spice and everything nice. She's sort of like a conductor. Her choreography is playful and even a little flirty."
I think he chuckles, but it's barely audible. "Is it the main role?"
"She's one of the main roles." I roll my head across his chest and wonder if he's making conversation for the sake of it or if he's genuinely interested. Max doesn’t usually banter. He doesn't sugar-coat. His words are like knives that stab straight to the point. "She has some very complex sequences."
"Have I said congratulations?"
I bite back another smile. "Yes."
A few moments pass. Before I was content in our silence, but my comfort is weighed down by my insecurities. "Max?"
"Yeah?" he asks, his tone wary with suspicion.
"I'm going to the wedding. Did you know that?"
"Yes," he states, the word curt.
"Do you...mind?"
