8
Max’s House
~Claire~
I sit with Max and his friends, Ryan, Seth, Matt, and Calvin, as the Characters play one of their newest songs. The audience is enthralled, most eyes riveted to the stage.
Cyn is dressed as a ballerina, a contrast to her usual dark and distressed clothes. She looks cute in her pink leotards and purple tutu, her blonde hair pinned back in a classic ballerina bun, with pink and purple threads weaved into her hair.
My eyes zero in on Kyle’s pink zebra-print drumsticks as he beats away. From observing his personality, I never imagined he would be caught with something so feminine. I shrug to myself, bringing my eyes back to Noah.
Watching him play is a titillating experience. The way his hands move, commanding, controlling, yet lightly strumming while the hand on the neck glides. His eyes are closed as he sings; neck arched up; sweat dripping down his face, down his neck, to disappear under his black shirt. His voice is different than when he talks. It’s not as deep, but so sinful with his moaning lines. He’s a lot more open than I think he knows, baring his soul and communicating to more people than he does talking in a month.
His voice purposely cracks on the next line, bringing me back to the parking lot.
I am so embarrassed. I can’t believe the things we did; humiliated that out of all people, Chelsea was the one to witness it. I know by tomorrow the whole school will know, not that I care about that. I’m more concerned that our private moment, that my first … orgasm was witnessed by her. She will take our moment and paint it red.
“Are you guys coming back with us after this?” Max questions.
I look over at the big, muscled, tattooed man. Max is misunderstood. He looks like a hardcore tattoo artist, but under the exterior is an intelligent man. Noah doesn’t know this about him, but Max is a geneticist. He finished school a year ago, his tattoo shop paying his way. He loves the research and does it in his spare time, but remains a tattoo artist. This is why I never discriminate—you never really know a person by their looks. The same goes for Noah.
“I don’t know.” I raise my voice to be heard. “Noah hasn’t mentioned it.”
I grab my phone off the table and look at the time. It’s already after ten, so the show should be ending soon. We have school tomorrow, but I allow myself until midnight before thinking of going to bed most nights. If we go to Max’s house, then we can hang out for at least an hour. I would love to see the place and get to know everyone better. I have been here the past three Fridays and sat with this crowd, but the music hasn’t allowed for much conversation. I know their names. I know what they do for a living. And I know they are fiercely protective of those they call friends.
“Happy Halloween,” Noah says, ending the show before he unstraps his guitar and disappears into the back room.
The audience, dressed from witches to toilet paper rolls and everything in-between, breaks out in applause and screams for more.
I continue to sit with Max as the band quickly goes through the motions of breaking down the drums and unloading them through the back door, while people—mostly girls—try to talk to the band. Kyle is verbose with ladies, but Noah disregards them, answering with one word replies. If he wasn’t so hot, his attitude would chase his fans away.
My soda is gone before the band is done packing up their gear. Ryan offers to get me another, but I shake my head. Then Max is asking to get out of the booth.
I scoot out, noticing all the men getting up from the table, so I grab my phone. Then Max tucks me into his side, picking up Cyn’s bass as we walk by. I turn and notice all the guys grab something from Kyle’s pile of drums.
We continue out of the restaurant through the back door where Noah, Kyle, and Cyn are on their way back in.
“We got the rest of it,” Calvin says, coming up from the rear.
Noah pulls me from Max, entwining our hands together. “Thanks.”
Cyn comes up to Max and kisses him thoroughly while trying to dislodge her bass from his grip. Max wins, smiling down on her. “I got it.”
She rolls her eyes at him before turning toward me. “Noah was telling us that you sing. You going to do a duet with us one of these nights?”
I look up at Noah in what I can imagine is a look of horror.
He glances down at me before narrowing his eyes at Cyn, who looks back at him coyly, pressing herself into Max’s side for protection.
Noah’s jaw ticks before he tells Cyn, “I haven’t asked her yet. And now she’ll probably never agree. Thanks, Cyn.” He turns us around and heads toward his bike where he gently places the helmet on my head wordlessly.
Max’s friends and Kyle are still loading the last of the drums into the truck when I look up to see Max and Cyn followed us.
“Nice.” Cyn smiles, her words sounding underwater due to the helmet. “He finally got you on that thing?”
I lift the second visor and answer Cyn with a wide smile, “I love it! I don’t think I can go back to my car now.”
Noah grins. “Unfortunately, you have to. I can’t ride my bike to school. Otherwise, I would pick you up on it every day.”
“I asked Claire if you guys want to hang out at my place for a while—we’re having our own Halloween party—but she says it’s up to you.” Max is stretching the truth.
Noah looks down at me again with his eyebrow cocked up in question.
I nod. “I’ve never been there. It would be nice to actually hold a conversation with everyone without having to yell.”
Noah smirks. “Don’t get your hopes up about that. There will be music, and it’s always loud.” He looks over at Max. “We’ll follow you there.”
I text my dad to let him know I will be home late, and then Noah takes my phone and stuffs it into his pocket since I don’t have any. Then he takes his jacket off and puts it on me once more. I worry that he will be cold since the temperatures have been frigid lately.
Noah seems to read my mind. “Don’t worry about me.” He lowers the visor then gets on the bike, holding my hand as I swing my leg around and get on behind him.
The ride to Max’s place is long. This is the time I start to wish we had my car so the ride back would be warm and more comfortable. Then I start to worry about how long we will stay. I was thinking until midnight, but then that will make me getting home around one. I might only be a month and a half away from turning eighteen, but even so, Dad won’t be happy about me coming home that late. And already I feel so tired.
I yawn as Noah turns off the bike in the driveway of a large, brick factory building where there is a large garage housing numerous bikes in stages of repair. The front of the building has a neon sign that says Madness Tattoos with open windows that look into the shop, displaying walls showcasing tattoo art.
Max, with Cyn riding behind him, and his friends pull their own bikes into the garage. Then Kyle pulls up behind us. We wait for him to catch up before Noah pulls me into the garage where we move through another door that opens to a stairway. There is a door to the right that I assume opens into the back of the tattoo shop.
We all climb the stairs, loud music already pumping through the walls, muted by the closed door at the top of the stairs. When Max opens the door, lights, music, and rowdy voices flood out. There are people all over the open floorplan.
I quickly scan the room that consists of a modern kitchen, living room with bar in the corner, and a pool table dividing the kitchen from the living space. The kitchen has the longest breakfast bar I have ever seen, curving around two sides with ten stools, with an industrial-sized refrigerator and stove. The living room has three couches forming a U, plus other chairs strategically placed around the room.
The men all greet each other with handshakes and back pats, including Noah and Kyle who must come here often. I get a lot of questioning looks. The looks from the women make me wonder if Noah knows any of them intimately, which makes me feel self-conscious.
Noah wraps his arm around my waist as he leads us to a group of chairs close to the bar. He sits in one, sinking low into the deep cushions before pulling me into his lap. I scoot until my back is against the arm, my butt falling into the comfortable cushion, and my legs draped over Noah’s. It’s a position we adopted many times at my house while we study, so it makes me feel slightly more comfortable in this house full of strangers.
Kyle is talking to a group of people. I think they are asking about me, because they all look over as Kyle points at me once. I scan the rest of the crowd, seeing a whole bunch of drinking, talking, making out, and people playing pool.
“Not what you expected, is it?” Noah threads his fingers through my hair, working out the tangles the wind caused. The gesture is comforting.
“I didn’t know what to expect. I knew there was going to be a party, but I didn’t realize Max had so many … friends.” I look at a black-haired beauty who has been eyeing us since we walked in. “Do you know her?”
Noah follows the direction of my eyes then quickly looks away. “That’s Sassy. She’s been hitting on me since the first night I came here.”
“She’s beautiful.”
“She is,” Noah acknowledges, which makes me look back at him, feeling hurt. “But I haven’t seen another woman since the first time I saw you.”
“You haven’t … dated anyone since you got here?” I have to ask. I know Noah isn’t a virgin. He told me that he has never had a girlfriend, but he also didn’t deny that he slept with many women; women much older and more experienced than me. Women who started coming on to him when he was fourteen. Women like Sassy.
I like the open honesty between us, yet I admit that it makes me feel inferior. How can I hold someone’s attention who is much more experienced and probably expects more than I know how to give? I can’t help thinking that it’s only a matter of time before Noah gets bored with me. That he will want a more. How can he want a virgin? And how can I compete with women like Sassy, who even now is flashing bedroom eyes at Noah.
“No,” Noah answers, pulling my attention away from Sassy once again. “Kyle tried to hook me up with Chelsea the first night.” He shivers, mocking a look of disgust. “Then I saw you. And I haven’t stopped looking ever since.”
I smile as he leans in to kiss me. His lips linger on mine before he nips my bottom lip.
“I couldn’t stop staring into those large, blue doe eyes. Staring at your long, soft hair, wanting to touch it. I wanted to kiss this little nose.” He leans in and does just that. “And don’t get me started on your body.” He runs his hands down my arms, then he grips my hips. “You look so tiny, but you have these long, amazing legs.” Both of us stare down at my legs. I see Noah swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing, before his eyes come back to mine, tension overtaking him, making me aware he is nervous. “I have to admit that your hair and then your ass were the first two things I noticed when you walked into the room.” His eyes start to get that hungry look. “Then your little waist and huge—”
I smack his arm gently as I watch Cyn and Max make their way toward us. Max sits on the chair across from us.
“What are you guys talking about?” Cyn asks, plopping down on Max’s lap and adjusting herself into the same position as me.
“Nothing,” I answer at the same time Noah says, “Claire.” I give him a death look, which makes him chuckle before he kisses the tip of my nose again.
“Oh, are you talking her into singing with us?” Cyn assumes.
“I’m working on it,” Noah answers before ignoring her as she starts to sing her rendition of opera. It makes me laugh. “Would you ever consider a duet with me?” he finally asks.
I look down at our hands that are in a dispassionate game of thumb war. “I don’t know. I guess it would be fun, but I don’t sing to the music you play.”
Noah lowers his thumb over mine, winning the battle. “I’ll write something you can sing to,” he promises.
Our thumbs start battling each other again, mine always stretching away from his offensive moves. “You going to write an aria,” I tease.
“I don’t know what that is, but I’ll find out. I’ve had a song in my head all night that I would love to hear you sing.”
My thumb snags his, though I know he let me win. His thumb is twice the size of mine. “I’d love to hear it.” I release our hand from the game then run my fingers over the calluses on his until our hands line up.
Noah watches our hands before closing his fingers over mine, swallowing my hand whole. He tucks me closer into him, wrapping his arms around me, and I rest my head against his shoulder, closing my eyes.
“It doesn’t look like I’m going to get much talking to Max and his friends tonight,” I muse, listening to all the sounds in the house. “I like being here. His house feels comfortable, though I don’t know anyone.”
“You didn’t look comfortable when we walked in.” I feel Noah’s lips at my forehead, caressing back and forth.
“Mmm …” I snuggle closer to Noah, tucking my face into his neck. “I was overwhelmed. I didn’t expect so many people to be here. It’s like the crowd at Jeremy’s relocated here.”
~Noah~
Claire falls asleep in my lap as Max and Cyn start debating some topic Cyn is learning in school. I feel her gentle breaths on my neck, and her arms have relaxed around my neck. I shift in the chair slowly, lowering myself so Claire is more reclined.
“That’s her?” Sassy ask after making her way over.
Claire is right about her. She is beautiful. Her black hair is in small dreads that flow halfway down her back. She has ice blue eyes framed in dark lashes, and heavy eyeliner that only makes her eyes stand out that much more. She’s tall, probably five-ten, with a swimsuit model body. She is my type in every way, except I saw Claire. No one comes close to Claire’s perfection now. Like how I now see that Sassy has bony hips, her lips are too thin, and her nose is too long. I don’t think I would have noticed that before I saw Claire.
I nod my head in answer.
“She’s gorgeous,” Sassy says as squats down, audaciously studying Claire’s features up close. “She’s a little too good for you, though. Doesn’t really fit in here.”
I nod, knowing Claire’s too good for me, yet … “She fits in where I am.” Claire might be too good for this crowd, for me, but Max likes her, she’s my girl, and I won’t come here without her. That’s my logic of her fitting in.
“I’d like to meet her some time. I want to know the woman I lost to.” Sassy is a tad unstable.
I shake my head at her. “You can’t lose what you never had. Isn’t that the saying?”
She shrugs. “I would have. Maybe someday,” she says in fake wistfulness before pushing up from her position, her leather pants squeaking with the movement. She gives me a wink before sauntering off.
Max and Cyn watched the whole exchange without saying a word. Now Cyn watches Sassy saunter off with a deep frown on her face, while Max eyes me in warning. Does he honestly think I would hit that and ruin what is growing with Claire? His look is surely telling me that.
“You guys can take the third bedroom on the right,” he tells me, looking at a still passed out Claire.
I shake my head. “Can’t. I need to get her home tonight. We have school in the morning.”
Max waves his hand like it’s no big thing. “I get up at six. I’ll wake you guys. As tired as she is, you don’t want her riding on your bike,” he reasons.
“Wasn’t going to put her on my bike. I was going to have Kyle drive her while I followed.” It’s too cold out to ride. I about froze my nipples off on the way over here.
Max gestures toward the bar where Kyle is chugging a beer. “Kid is staying here, too. If you’re underage, one drink and you’re stuck here for the night.”
I curse Kyle under my breath. It would serve him right if I took Katy’s truck and left him here. Then he would have to answer to why he was drinking. But then that would leave my bike here. Who knows what he would do to it in retaliation?
Crap. What am I going to do? Jonathan Sawyer is an okay guy, lenient and trusting of Claire, but how will he feel if she doesn’t come home tonight? Will he blame me? I need to call him. No—I look at the time on my watch; it’s already after twelve—I will text him. That way, if he’s asleep, he will get the message when he wakes up. If he’s still up, he can call me back.
I nod at Max, and he gestures with his head toward the hallway that leads to bedrooms. I pull Claire closer to me, securing her in my hold, and then get to my feet. The girl can’t weigh even a hundred pounds by how light she is.
She sighs against my neck, and I feel her arms tighten around me. I don’t know if I woke her or if she’s instinctively holding me.
I make my way through the crowd that parts when they see me and make my way down the hallway. All the bedroom doors are closed. I’m afraid what I will find when I open the door Max designated as ours. I can only imagine walking into a couple having sex.
Surprisingly, the bedroom is empty and clean, and the bed is dressed in sheets and blankets that don’t look rumpled. There is one nightstand, a dresser, a TV mounted to the wall above it, a bathroom, and a closet.
I close and lock the door, using the light coming in from the window to guide my way. The sounds out in the main room are muffled now, still present, but subdued. I pull the blanket and sheet away from the bed before lying Claire down. She automatically curls up, facing away from me. I take her shoes and belt off, but then stand there, debating whether to take her pants off or not. I would want someone to do that for me if I was in this situation.
That logic cements my decision, and I eagerly go to her buttons, finding that they are snaps and open at a tug.
I expose the front of her panties, finding red lace. I bite my bottom lip to stifle the groan building in my throat. I figured virginal white for her. Or pink with a floral print. I did not expect this.
I slow down my breathing that has escalated in the few seconds it took to expose her panties and guide my fingers into the waistband of her pants, pushing the material down her legs. Claire stirs and starts to kick her own pants off when they reach her ankles. Then she turns over onto her belly and gropes at the blankets. I quickly pull them over her, needing to cover that marvelous ass of hers and not wanting her to wake up.
Turning away from her sleeping form, I pace the perimeter as I text her dad.
Not what a dad wants to hear, but we’re in Carson. Claire fell asleep. Taking her home in morning in time for school. No alcohol, no drugs involved. I drove my bike. Claire’s car is at theater. Don’t feel safe riding back when she’s tired. Call if you have any concerns with this. Noah.
That sounded good, right?
I toss Claire’s phone onto the nightstand then take off my jacket, tossing it onto the floor. My shirt, boots, pants, and socks follow. I usually sleep in boxers, but ever since moving here, I have to wear sleep pants to bed because little Abby likes to wake me up in the morning. Baby girl would be traumatized if she encountered my morning wood.
I look over at Claire’s phone just as it beeps and lights up. Her dad decided to text instead of calling. That’s a good sign.
“To be trusted is a greater compliment than being loved.” George MacDonald.
Wow. Claire’s dad … I don’t even know what to say to that. I know it makes me want to deserve that trust. What I did earlier tonight with Claire was too much too fast. I need to rewind and go back to my no touching rule. Otherwise, it’s too easy to lose control.
I put the phone back down on the nightstand then turn the bed covers down before sliding in. Claire’s still lying on her stomach, her face toward me. I lower until I am eye-level with her and stare at her face, watching her sleep. Her hair is tumbled around her face, obstructing my view, so I push it back, causing Claire to shift in her sleep. I freeze, then slowly bring my hand back to my side of the bed.
Claire sighs in her sleep, her mouth parting as she lets out a breath. Her eyes are moving beneath her lids. I hope she’s dreaming about me. Her arm is stuffed under the pillow with her hand sticking out. I reach for it and hold on, the only contact I allow myself for tonight.
~
That small contact didn’t work out the way I intended.
I wake up to hearing Max tapping on the door. The sun is already out, lighting up the bedroom. I have hair in my face. Claire’s head is tucked under mine, resting on my dead arm. Our legs are intertwined. My other hand is resting on her hip, and her arms are tucked between us underneath her chin, almost like she is in prayer.
I swipe her hair out of my face, brushing it down her back before pulling her into me. I don’t want to get up yet. I don’t want to leave the confines of this bed, where she is in my arms, trusting me.
Claire stretches, her arms coming over her head as her legs tauten and stretch downward. She looks like a cat. She yawns in my face before quickly covering her mouth, which makes me laugh, and her eyes dart open, meeting mine. It only takes her a second to register that she is not at home.
She darts up into a sitting position, the sheets pooling at her waist. Her hair is in disarray, her eyes have smeared mascara under them, and her shirt is only on one shoulder. She looks absolutely delectable.
I lift my knees to hide my erection, waiting to see if she will get up and display her ass. At that thought, I start to worry about what she will say or do when she realizes I took them off.
“Where’s my phone?” She looks around the room and spots it on the nightstand next to me. I move to hand it to her, but she is already stretching over me, dangerously close to my erection. “My dad is going to kill me. Oh, it’s only six; maybe he’s still asleep.”
“I texted your dad for you,” I tell her as she fumbles with her phone, worriedly biting her lip.
She looks over at me before returning her attention to her phone. “Dad loves using quotes when he doesn’t know how else to respond.” I take it she saw our conversation last night. “Where are we? Are we still at Max’s?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. She shakes her head. “I can’t believe I fell asleep like that. I’m so sorry. Is your uncle and aunt going to mind?”
“Me? No. Kyle, though, is another question altogether.” I stretch then rest my hands behind my head, watching, waiting for Claire to blow up at me for not waking her up. For not taking her home. For texting her dad. For not wearing pants. For sleeping next to her.
She rubs her fingers under her eyes. “He’s still here, too?” She looks down at the dark smudges on her fingers. “I look a hot mess, don’t I?”
“I think you look cute,” I tell her honestly.
She looks over at me, her eyes scrolling down my body, stopping at the tattoo on my lower ribs. “Is that the only tattoo you have?”
“Yeah.” I look down at it as she studies the Latin, leaning in closer to read it. “The unexamined life is not worth living. It’s Socrates.”
“What does it mean?” She pulls away from reading it and sits back up. She’s cross-legged now, the sheet pooling dangerously low to the edge of those red lace panties, but she doesn’t even seem concerned. She must know that she’s sans pants by now, right?
I sit up and lean back against the headboard. “To me, it means to learn from your mistakes; have no regrets by thinking through your choices.”
Claire yawns again, nodding in understanding, before tearing the sheet off her and getting up, giving me an absolute, undeterred view of her ass. Her panties are barely concealing her; I can see through the lace. She bends over to pick up her pants, completely innocent in the storm she’s brewing inside me.
“Claire?” My mouth is dry.
“Yeah?”
I watch as she turns around, putting one leg inside her pants then the other, giving me a full view down her disordered shirt. She hops up to pull her pants up, snapping the buttons before adjusting her top. She finally looks at me.
“Don’t bend over in front of a man like that in just see-through panties.”
Her face instantly turns red, the blush bleeding up her chest to her cheeks. There is horror and embarrassment in her eyes.
She quickly turns away, bending down once more to pick up her shoes and belt, before busying herself with putting them on.
I lunge across the bed and snag her around the waist, pulling her back down, then leaning over her as she tries to divert her tear-filled eyes.
“Why are you crying?”
“Embarrassment, I guess. Shame, maybe.” She closes her eyes and inhales through her nose.
“You have nothing to feel embarrassed or ashamed about. It was sexy as hell. Your confidence is very, very sexy.” I kiss her neck, nipping, which makes Claire giggle. “That’s better. You need to be more conscious of your actions.”
Another soft rap comes to the door.
“We’re up,” I call out.
Looking down at Claire, I see her smile once more. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” I whisper, wiping the freed tears from under her eyes.
Her smile drops. “I know. I … I guess I haven’t really been around people my own age to pick up on … that. I mean, I know about it. I just wasn’t thinking.” Her smile returns. “Maybe it’s you. I’m more open when I am with you than with anyone else.”
I stare down at her lips, wanting to continue what we did on my bike. “I hope so.” I kiss her, but keep it short. If I linger, I won’t be able to pull away. “I need to get dressed. And coffee. I seriously need some coffee.”
I roll off her and toward the other side of the bed where my clothes are laid out across the floor. Claire’s eyes are on me the entire time I get dressed. I don’t turn around, letting her look without feeling she shouldn’t.
“Noah?”
“Claire?” I already know what she is going to say.
“I see what you mean about bending over. You shouldn’t be allowed to do it, either.”
I can’t stop the laugh that bursts out of me.