Page 26 of Invisible String
“I’m coming. Sorry to keep you guys waiting. I couldn’t find my sunscreen.” Rainey comes out, running down the porch stairs. Peter flexes again to gain Rainey’s attention.
“Good thing you found it, girl. You turn into a lobster in the sun. By the way, Peter here is trying to fight your guy. I told him it was a dumb thing to do since Max is a boxer.” Lana laughs while Rainey runs to me and then jumps in front of me, blocking me from punching his face.
Her warm hands cover my cheeks, pulling my gaze toward her. “Let’s get in the car, Max.” Her fingers caress me tenderly. “He’s not worth it,” she whispers.
My gaze goes back to Peter. His friend, the guy Lana is seeing, pulls him into their car.
“Look at me, handsome.”
Well, that gets my attention. I peer into her eyes, then her lips. The red lipstick paints her mouth like a polished red Corvette. I’m not the territorial type, but I can’t ignore it with her. My hands cup her neck like a necklace and pull her close. Her chest lies on my abdomen. I know I’m not experienced in kissing, but with Rainey, it comes naturally. Our mouths collide, tongues tangle. She tastes sweet, like vanilla. Remembrance of our first kiss fires my insides. She sinks into my body, her hands gripping my biceps. This kiss is different. Desire drives it—the urge to touch her, taste her, lose myself in lust. With one hand on her waist, I pull us up against her car with me leaning on it.
“You go, girl,” Lana screams. “You’re all she talked about.”
Rainey pulls away, panting. “Lana, shut it, you big mouth.” They drive off, leaving us behind. Her beautiful brown eyes peer at me. “Was this kiss for me or Peter?”
With my hand still on her waist, I respond, “I sure as hell don’t want to kiss Peter.”
She throws her head back, laughing. “Max, you know what I mean.”
“Both,” I admit. I’m not a man who admits much, and it does not come easily to me to express myself. “I owed you a kiss from last night…and he’s eyeing you. Didn’t you say you didn’t like that? He was waiting for you like a creep.”
“Oh, and here I thought you were being territorial.” She steps back, her eyes downcast and hands deject from my chest. Disappointed with my response.
Deep down, I was being territorial. Deep down, I want to hold her close. But I don’t know how to tell her, nor if I should, because I don’t understand it myself. There’s no point in it if we are both going our separate ways in a couple of weeks.
“We should go,” I say instead.
She nods with a small smile. “Okay, Max.”
I open the door for her, and she slips in. I jog around to the passenger door. She starts the engine, fixes her rearview mirror, and fastens her seatbelt. She backs out, puts the car into drive, and reverses again. My focus stays on my car.
“Rai—”
It’s too damn late. With a jolt, she collides with the side of my Nova. The loud thud echoes through the parking space, and she puts the car in park. Her hand goes to her chest. I run my fingers through my hair to keep calm. It’s just a car. “I’m so, so sorry. I’ll pay to get it fixed.”
“Fucking hell, woman. That’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” It’s not like I have the money to buy another mirror. I’ll have to find a way to fix the dangling mirror. There’s no way I would take her money. CálmateMax
“No, I’ll pay you for the damage.”
I wave a hand. “Nah, it’s fine. Come on, let’s go tubing. I’d like to get it over with.”
“You don’t have to come.”
“I said I wanted to. I just don’t want to hang out with Peter.”
She backs out smoothly, leading us onto the road. “It will just be us. You will have your own tube, and I will have mine.”
I would much rather have her sit on my lap.
As we descend, she increases her speed, causing me to grip the handle above me instinctively. She abruptly breaks, then accelerates again, repeating this pattern multiple times. I notice a large utility truck in front of us. Sweat moistens my forehead with a memory I long buried.
“Maximilian, we need to hurry. Get your shoes on,” my mom yells as I put on my football cleats.
I begged my mom to let me play football. She said it was too rough of a sport for me at my age, and she wanted me to be older. Also, because my mom worked cleaning houses and offices, it was hard for her to take me, and my dad worked long hours. I finally convinced her.
“Sweetheart, you don’t need to take him. He can wait until next year. You have to get back to work. Or you can quit. I work long hours for a reason: to take care of us,” my dad says to my mom in a soft, loving voice.
“I know, but he really wants to join. After practice, I’ll head back to finish the office, then head home.” My mom tells my dad as I make my way into the living room.
