MAXIM

I finished writing in my notebook, tucked it into the drawer, and turned off the light. I hadn’t written much, just a few immediate thoughts, but I never wanted to forget how good this felt. And if I woke up tomorrow and none of this was real, at least I’d have a record of it.

I glanced at the door, which I’d left half-open as a sort of half-invitation. Because even though I’d have loved to sleep next to him—actually what I really wanted to do was stay up talking and kissing and touching each other all night, something I’d never done or even wanted before—going back into his bed seemed way too presumptive of me. If he wanted me there, he could come find me, but if he didn’t, that was okay, too. I understood that there were lines he did not want to cross. Not yet, anyway.

After a few minutes of silence, I knew he’d gone to bed, and I settled in beneath the covers. In the darkness, I didn’t even have to close my eyes to picture my favorite moments from tonight. His eyes looking up at me with my cock in his mouth. The way he moved inside me, slowly at first, and then with all the heated passion of a summer storm. His voice, deep and soft. I’d be lying if I said I could walk away from this.

It had easily been the hottest blowjob I’d ever had, the best sex I’d ever had, and I’d never forget the way Derek looked as he got lost inside me. He’d surrendered to it so completely, so passionately. But it was his words I loved best. Or maybe it was his honesty. His willingness to take a chance on me. He’d come a long way in a few days.

Neither of us knew where we might end up, but this was America. Anything was possible, right?

Smiling, I turned onto my stomach and stretched out. I hadn’t been looking for this. But I was damn happy I’d found it.

* * *

The next morning, I showered, dressed, and came downstairs to a surprise—Derek was at the breakfast table, drinking coffee and looking at his laptop. His hair was a little damp, and he was dressed in jeans and a casual shirt. His feet were bare. I might have imagined it, but to me he looked much more relaxed than he had in the last three days. No furrowed brow, no tight lips, no tension in his neck.

“Good morning,” I said, unable to keep a grin off my face. “I thought you’d be at work.”

He set down his coffee cup. “I didn’t have anything major scheduled, so I shuffled a few minor things to be able to take the day off. I haven’t done that in forever.”

“What will you do with your day off?”

“I have some errands to run, but I also wondered if you wanted to do some shopping. I actually picked up a few things for you on Sunday, but I’m not sure if they’ll fit or if you’ll even want them.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “I meant to leave them in your room for you yesterday, but it was sort of a hectic day, and I forgot.”

“You bought clothing for me on Sunday?” I don’t know why I was so surprised—it was exactly like Derek to do something so nice. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He waved a hand in the air, dismissing it. “They might not even fit. And it’s only one pair of pants and two shirts. You’ll need more than that.”

I nodded. “Shopping today would be great. I just have to be back at three-thirty for Ellen to pick me up.”

“I can drop you off at work when we’re done. Coffee’s still hot if you want some.”

“Thank you.” I took a cup from the cupboard and filled it. To make sure I was actually awake, I pinched myself. Twice. “Have you had breakfast?”

“Not yet. I can make some, or we can go out.”

An idea came to me. “Actually, let me do it.”

His eyebrows rose. “Do what?”

“Cook breakfast,” I said excitedly. “There’s something I’d love to make for you if you have the right ingredients. It's called syrniki, and it is the most amazing thing in the world. My mom used to make them for me.”

“What is it?” He looked suspicious.

“Don’t you trust me?” I teased. “I promise it will be delicious, and I’ll clean up the kitchen, too. Can I look in your fridge for what I’ll need?”

“Ask me. I’ll tell you if I have it.”

I thought for a moment. “Eggs. Cottage cheese. Lemon. Butter.”

“Yes to all.”

“Flour and sugar?”

“Yes.”

“How about raisins?”

He tilted his head and squinted. “I think so. Maybe in the pantry.”

“Sour cream and honey?”

“Yes.”

“Good! That’s everything.”

He started to get up. “What kind of cookware do you need?”

“Just a frying pan, but you sit down,” I scolded. “Enjoy your morning off. I want to do everything.”

He looked amused but sat down again. “Okay. Have at it.”

I gathered all my ingredients but found that I couldn’t remember exact amounts for things. After searching for a recipe online that was close to my mother’s and coming up empty, I decided to call her. It was ten P.M. there, but she was a bit of a night owl, and I thought she might be up.

Liliya answered the phone and squealed when she heard my voice. “Maxim!”

“Hello, malyshka,” I said warmly. Her voice reminded me of home, and I felt a tug of longing for the people I loved there. I spoke Russian to her. “What are you doing awake?” From his chair at the table, Derek watched me, a curious look on his face. “My sister,” I whispered in English. “I called my mom to ask her something about the recipe.” He nodded in understanding.

“I’m terrible,” Liliya said crossly. “I can’t sleep.”

“Why not?”

“I had the bad dream again.”

“About the monster?”

“Yes.”

“What did he do this time?”

“He said I would never see you again.”

My heart squeezed. “That’s not true. I promise.”

“But why did you go so far away?”

“I wanted an adventure, remember? I wanted to see new things. Speak a different language. Meet movie stars.”

“Did you meet one yet?”

“Not yet. But do you know what I’m looking at right now?” I walked over to the sliding glass door and looked out into the yard.

“What?”

“Sunshine and palm trees and tropical flowers. Everything is bright and sunny and colorful. And when I breathe in the air, it smells like oranges.”

“Can I visit you?”

“Yes. As soon as I can arrange it. But it will take a while for me to get settled, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Can you put Mom on, please?”

“Yes, but don’t hang up. I want to talk again.”

I smiled, meeting Derek’s eyes. “She misses me,” I told him.

“Of course she does.”

My insides melted a little.

“Maxim!” My mother sounded worried. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, fine. How are you?”

“Good.” Then her voice was muffled. “Liliya, stop! I’ll give you the phone in a minute. Sorry,” she said clearly again. “Liliya misses you.”

“I miss her too. I miss both of you. But I’m thinking of you because I want to make syrniki, and I forgot parts of the recipe. Can you tell me how much of each ingredient to put in?”

“I just guess at it by now, but I think I have it written down here somewhere. Hold on.”

While she looked, I asked Derek where I could find a pen and paper to write it down. He came around the counter, opened a drawer, and took out a pencil and stack of yellow Post-It notes. Then he refilled his cup of coffee while my mother recited her old recipe and I wrote it down.

“Perfect, Mom. Thank you so much.” I turned around and found Derek leaning back against the counter across from me, lifting his cup to his lips. I switched to English. “I don’t want to screw it up because I’m making it for someone special, and he’s very picky.”

He rolled his eyes, but smiled too.

“Let me know how they like it,” my mother said. “Liliya wants to talk again.”

“Okay. And then I should go.”

“Okay. Bye, honey. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

My sister came back on. “Maxim, sing me the song.”

I cringed. ‘The song’ was the theme to Spokoynoy nochi, malyshi, a Russian children’s show that had been around forever. It was silly and childish and I did not want to sing it in front of Derek. I don’t even have a decent voice. “No, malyshka. I can’t sing it right now.”

“Please, Maxim! I can’t sleep without it. It’s the only thing that will help.”

A stab to the heart. “Can’t Mom sing it for you?”

“No. She doesn’t remember it.”

I groaned, and Derek looked at me quizzically.

“Please, Maxim. I miss you so much.”

I exhaled, defeated. “Okay.” Then I closed my eyes—as if that would save me from mortification—and started to sing, at a much quicker tempo than usual.

Liliya caught me. “Slow down, Maxim! You’re doing it too fast!”

I dutifully slowed down and sang it the right way, my voice cracking in all the usual places, making her giggle. When I got to the last line, I peeked at Derek, whose amused expression made me want to bury my face in my shirt.

“Okay now? Think you can sleep?” I asked Liliya.

“Yes,” she said. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, malyshka. Ya tebya lublu.”

“I love you, too. Bye.”

I hung up, set my phone on the counter, and braved a look at Derek. Tried to hold my chin up. He drank his coffee, his eyes dancing with glee over the rim of the cup.

“What?” I said, feeling the heat in my face. “She couldn’t sleep. That’s a kid’s song from an old Russian television show I sometimes sing to relax her.”

“Nothing. It’s adorable. I didn’t know you sang lullabies.”

“I don’t. Only that one.”

“Maybe you’ll sing it to me sometime.” He tried not to smile but couldn’t help it.

God, I love making him smile. “Ha ha. Go ahead and make fun of me. You’ll be sorry when I don’t share my syrniki with you.” I turned my back to him and opened the bag of flour.

A moment later, he stood right behind me, pressed against my back. He looped his arms around my waist and kissed my neck. “I’m only teasing. I actually find it very sexy that you’d sing your little sister a song to help her sleep.”

“You do?” I looked at him over my shoulder.

“Yes.” He put his lips on mine, and it was sweet and soft and easy, much different than the fiery kisses we’d shared last night. We weren’t racing to undress or touch each other or get to the next hot thing. We were content with a kiss.

We were in the moment, and it just felt good.