The bed creaks as Maxx rises to his feet, and Chas pulls back so that we can both look up at him.
“I’ll give you guys a minute,” he says, his emerald eyes focused on the floor, his right hand scratching absently at the back of his head.
“Don’t you dare leave,” Chasm snaps out, rising to his feet. “You’re right: we do have to talk about this.”
Maxx lifts his gaze to look at him, letting his attention slide over to me.
I’m still having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that Maxine knows. That I had to betray her to save Parrish’s life. I cannot stop thinking about it. Nor can I stop thinking about the implications involved in the entire situation.
As a person, you feel you know who you are. Or at the very least, have some vague idea. But you never truly understand yourself until your back is against a wall, and it’s put up or shut up. If you’d asked the old Dakota—the one from Catskills, NY who lived with her grandparents and her big sister—if she’d ever sleep with said sister’s boyfriend to save a guy she’d only known for three months, she might’ve said no. She might’ve claimed that she’d tell the authorities, tell her grandparents, shout the information to the world.
But when you’re faced with a heart bursting with love, a pair of gold-flecked brown eyes, and a pouty mouth … things change. Parrish has changed me. I knew it from the very first second I met him; I know it now. It’s not just because he’s some boy, and I’m some girl, and we had a fling or a teenage romance, it’s more than that.
He’s a person with beautiful dreams, with a family that loves him, an entire community of people around him whose lives would change if he were gone. Is he perfect? Of course he isn’t. Because who wants that? Perfect is an illusion that blinds us to the prettiest parts of the world. Flaws are what make us human. Perfection is for robots.
“Don’t feel obligated to say or do anything for me; I’m a big boy.” X hooks a smirk, and I can’t decide if he’s just trying to lighten the mood or if he’s actually making a joke about his extra-large dick. I shift a little, and that soreness between my thighs flickers like fire. Even as I’m hurting, I want a little bit more. “Just tell me the truth, and I’ll accept it.”
“You are such a martyr,” Chasm snorts, digging out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. He moves into the bathroom, grabs my book bag, and carries it into Parrish’s room with the towel still draped over the top. He drops it on the floor, closes the door, and heads back into my bathroom so that he can sit perched on the edge of the tub and smoke a cigarette. The only window in my room that actually opens for ventilation purposes is in the bathroom.
The bathroom … with its four-person sized shower.
“A foursome is not on the books, Dakota,” I murmur. Aloud. I murmur it aloud.
Maxx stares at me. Chasm nearly tumbles into the empty tub, cursing as he tries to catch his cigarette as it falls from his mouth.
“Totally out of context!” I explain, lifting my hands up, palms out. “Completely out of context.”
Maxx cocks a brow.
“In what context, exactly, does a foursome mean anything chaste?” The playful tone in his voice breaks my heart. I want to give into him the same way I fell into Chasm—with reckless abandon. I had no choice in that arena. Justin did not order me to simply ‘have sexual intercourse before sunrise’ with him. He said act on your feelings. He said to keep acting on my feelings.
But what’s my excuse with Maxx? Because there isn’t one, and I won’t betray Parrish, Chasm, or Maxine for it. No matter how much I like him.
“I wasn’t thinking about sex,” I breathe, shoving my hair back from my face. “I was thinking about the shower in my bathroom.”
Chasm snorts and nearly drops his cigarette all over again.
Maxx grins at me, propping an elbow against the wall and leaning his head against his fist.
“That makes it better somehow?” he queries innocently, and I narrow my eyes at him.
“I was just thinking about me and you and Chasm and Parrish.” I get choked up and close my eyes. When I open them, X is staring at me with a much more sober expression on his face. “You want the truth?” I ask, and he gives a slow, easy nod, dropping his arm from the wall and standing up straight.
Chasm runs the water in the tub to put out his cigarette, flushing it down the toilet before coming back over to stand in the bathroom doorway.
