Page 23 of Surviving the Break
“You were able to reach his head?” My mom barely breached five feet.
“I asked him sweetly to bend down first.” She smiled at her own antics.
My mother had an old soul, but she hadn’t quite reached fifty. Barely a wrinkle marred her ebony skin, but like me, she’d gone fully gray a number of years ago. Her hair and her looks were a beautiful contradiction. “He found me.” Something in my tone raised her alarm bells.
She turned the gas off and placed the large wooden spoon down. “What’s going on, Ashton?” She wiped her hands on her apron; a delicate crease formed above her brows.
We sat at the kitchen table. I brushed a long lock of hair from her face. She took in my nervous expression and reached for my hand, smiling, which triggered her faint crow’s feet. “Tell Momma all about him, baby.”
My mother and I were all we had for a long time, and then Damon made three. She approached all situations with love and open arms, and she gave the best advice. I should’ve come to her sooner. “His name is Max,” I began.
9
MAX
In the ninth grade, I fell in love with my best friend. It wasn’t a thing that happened over time. There were no covert looks in the locker room showers that turned into spank bank material in the wee hours of the night. I went to bed one night an innocent and woke up to butterfly wings yawning deep in my belly.
I did a great job at hiding the truth—at first. But my best friend had a very demonstrative personality. He liked touch, skin-on-skin contact. When he slept over, the top bunk reserved for him remained unbothered. He slept with me. Wrapped around me. Mom would often find us asleep in a tangle of limbs.
It pained me to see the hurt in his eyes when I informed him sophomore year that we were too old to be sleeping together. It had to be done because it became impossible to stave off my erection when he pressed in close to me.
I pulled away in other areas of our friendship as well. No longer could I bear to fake my happiness when hearing about what new girl he’d made out with in the back of the bleachers. I stopped speaking to him for a week when he confessed he’d lost his virginity to sleazy Suzie.
After his incessant demands for an explanation for my off behavior, I blurted out my secret in a fit of rage.
“Oh,” he’d said, and I stormed off with my heart in my throat.
He rejected the idea that we couldn’t still be friends, and I eventually gave in, as I often did with him. In his defense, he was mindful of my feelings moving forward—to an extent.
More than a year flew by, and we were at the end of our junior year. His date to prom was a petite, buxom blonde named Jessica. My date? A senior whose name didn’t matter. It became easier to stomach seeing my best friend eat the face off some new girl every week once I began dating. Some days, I was successful at convincing myself that I didn’t care. This was not one of those days.
Jessica’s outrageous boobs spilled out of the top of her dress. The short hem was equally shocking. At 6’3, he had to twist and fold into a pretzel to kiss her. The pen I held snapped in half when I pictured them lining up their bodies to have sex.
“Hey, I said you could use the pen to sign my yearbook. I didn’t say you could kill it.” My date stood next to me, annoyed.
“Uh, sorry. I need to use the restroom.” I darted out of the gymnasium doors before he could answer.
I bent over the sink and splashed cold water on my face.
“I was looking all over for you. What are you doing in here?” the bane of my existence asked from behind me.
Jesus, I couldn’t catch a break. “What does it look like I’m doing?” I snapped.
“What’s the matter? Did Thomas do something—”
“No, damnit!” Always so caring. Always ready to defend me. It only made things harder. “I’m not feeling well. Tell Thomas I had to leave. I’ll call him later.” The door rebounded off the wall when I exited the restroom.
Later that night, my bed dipped, and my eyes flew open. I turned in the dark, barely able to make out his features. His hard cock pressed against my belly. He was naked. “What are you doing here?”
“I need you, Max.” He pulled my boxer briefs off as my breathing grew heavy, then rolled me to my back.
“What about your date?” Bitterness made my words harsh.
“I don’t love her. Not like I love you.”
Girls were disposable to him; they came as fast as they went. I was the only constant in his life. The thing he couldn’t live without. I had no doubt he loved me, but his version of love wasn’t enough. “We can’t keep doing this. It ends now, Hayden.”
“Shhh, shhh, I need you.” He reached into my nightstand for the bottle of lube.
