I LOVED it when our team traveled, because that meant Max and I could spend time alone together. When Max came anywhere near me, it felt like I would combust.
We had sex. Lots and lots of sex. Max was a masterful lover, and he wasn’t satisfied until he made me come until I couldn’t speak. He took me on the bed, against the desk, up against the wall, in the shower. None of that surprised me. I had known from the moment I had seen Max that he’d be gifted in the bedroom. What surprised me about Max, was his sensitive side.
Any chance he got, he loved to touch me, hold me, wrap his body around me.
“Did you know when two people cuddle, your body releases a chemical called oxytocin?”
“No, what’s that?”
“They call it the feel-good chemical.”
“This feels good.”
“Right?”
HE ALSO LOVED to leave me little surprises. I’d find stupid little jokes in my make-up bag, scrawled in his messy print.
What’s the difference between a hockey game and a boxing match?
In a hockey game, the fights are real.
WHY IS the hockey rink hot after the game?
Because all the fans have left.
I loved them and I kept every single scrap of paper. They were love notes I savored when I was alone.
ANOTHER THING that surprised me was how much Max loved to laugh. When we were alone together, he became an easy-going guy who liked to tease and joke around. Yes, I loved the sex. It was hot and intense, and hands down the best sex of my life, but I loved the after sex too. We did stupid things, goofy things. Like when Max put on my t-shirt, which was more of a tiny midriff on him, and we had a Britney Spears dance off. He won, by the way, because I laughed so hard, I couldn’t even dance.
I DIDN’T EVEN MIND his pensive side. The quiet side, when he disappeared into his head, shutting everyone, including me, out. I’d snuggle up to him, and he’d let me. He’d wrap his arm around me. He rarely shared what troubled him, but I knew when he rolled over, sighed and buried his face into my neck, that my closeness eased his troubles.
“You want to talk?”
I didn’t expect he did, but I always asked.
“My mom called me.”
My fingers in his hair stilled. “How did that go?” I knew his relationship with his mom was strained.
“It was a tough call.”
“Are you okay?”
He rolled me over so he could stare me in the eyes. “Rory.”
“Yeah?”
He fought with his words, but failed. I could see him struggle, wanting to tell me, but he resorted to kissing me instead. A deep, emotional kiss that left me breathless. He lifted his head and the look he gave me made me swoon.
“Rory.”
“Yeah?”
I could see the debate in his eyes. He was fighting something, dealing with something. Something bigger than us, but also involved the two of us.
He rolled to the edge of the bed and sat up.
“I should go.”
Shock passed through me. “What? Why?”
He glanced back at me. “I’m not great company tonight.”
“Oh, okay,” I sat up disoriented.
He couldn’t get his shoes on fast enough.
“See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, okay.”
He didn’t even give me another kiss goodbye.
I worried that night. Scary feelings of doubt crept in, replacing my joy.
It will be okay. Don’t worry. It will be okay.
