Max's hand wrapped behind Misty's back and drew her in, and she was all too happy to follow. She kissed him on and on, or again and again; the difference didn't really matter. As she did, she closed and opened her eyes from time to time. She closed them because she was aware that some people thought it was weird to stare at someone while you made out, and also that some people thought closed eyes more attractive, pairing nicely with flushed cheeks and another, deeper press of lips. She opened them because, weirdness be damned, she was interested in faces, or specifically in Max's face, and also people said the eyes were the window to the soul, and even if not she thought she had good eyes.
She was again and still impressed by Max's gentlemanly nature, which was to say that his arm had lingered around her side and back, drifting neither upwards nor down, though this also complicated matters because it left her still unsure herself as to exactly where this was going. Was this appetizer or main course? Prologue or climax? Did she need to know? Not really. There were so many things she didn't need to think about at all right now, like the future, the past, or even anything outside of this exact place and time. Unless they managed to kick a candle over and set her room on fire, or her parents came crashing through the front door, she was pretty sure they would remain in their own private universe, for a time at least.
But she wanted to neither waste a moment nor dictate or speed things along unbecomingly, and yet also talking about this was straight out. After all, it would be embarrassing and also would mean parting lips. So she leaned against Max a little harder, hard enough that if he chose to fold to the side and lie horizontal she could easily follow and press herself bodily against him, but gentle enough not to be insistent that such be the inevitable progression.
Why did this have to be so confusing? Caring made everything hard.
There's Always Some Fear In Love
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MurderWeasel
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MethodicalSlacker
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And Max really did care.
He did, he did, he did.
The two continued to kiss, their lips entangled, ensnared in each other, and it was pleasant. Enjoyable, even. It made the disgusting thoughts of his cousin disappear, until they didn't, and he had to kiss harder to disappear them. Misty was receptive. He underestimated severely her want for him, her need for him. A desire. It felt good to be desired, he realized. It wasn't something he was entirely opposed to in the slightest.
Sitting upright, as he was, was strenuous on his back. He felt a strange need to crouch down, to hunch over so his body accounted for Misty's. Max wanted to sprawl out on her bed and lay back. However, he feared that if he did, he wouldn't be able to leave. A conundrum, newly presented before him. Some daemon in his head, taunting him. An intrusive thought, not sparing him the kindness of solitude in his mind. Cast away it was as he planted another kiss upon Misty's lips.
And all went with it.
Slowly, Max fell horizontally onto Misty's bed, landing on his side. His head missed just shy of her pillow, but his hair brushed against the bottom. He was still wearing his clothes. Max patted the empty space next to him and looked Misty in the eyes.
"If you would," he said.
He did, he did, he did.
The two continued to kiss, their lips entangled, ensnared in each other, and it was pleasant. Enjoyable, even. It made the disgusting thoughts of his cousin disappear, until they didn't, and he had to kiss harder to disappear them. Misty was receptive. He underestimated severely her want for him, her need for him. A desire. It felt good to be desired, he realized. It wasn't something he was entirely opposed to in the slightest.
Sitting upright, as he was, was strenuous on his back. He felt a strange need to crouch down, to hunch over so his body accounted for Misty's. Max wanted to sprawl out on her bed and lay back. However, he feared that if he did, he wouldn't be able to leave. A conundrum, newly presented before him. Some daemon in his head, taunting him. An intrusive thought, not sparing him the kindness of solitude in his mind. Cast away it was as he planted another kiss upon Misty's lips.
And all went with it.
Slowly, Max fell horizontally onto Misty's bed, landing on his side. His head missed just shy of her pillow, but his hair brushed against the bottom. He was still wearing his clothes. Max patted the empty space next to him and looked Misty in the eyes.
"If you would," he said.
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MurderWeasel
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So she lay down, not on top of Max, but alongside him. It was nice too, just as nice, and still close and comfortable and just what she wanted. Right now, anything and everything was what she wanted. She felt warm, touchable and by virtue of that untouchable. It was a twin-size bed. There wasn't that much space to go anywhere. She was beaming, and she nodded, resting her hand upon his shoulder.
Her face was close to Max's. Not as close as it had been, not touching, because this was a moment of pause, and she thought he had something to say, perhaps, or not to say with words but to communicate. She wanted to kiss him again, maybe, but she waited for a moment, instead, looking into his eyes.
"Mm?" she said, because it was a neutral sound, a sound that, if she'd misjudged, could just as easily retroactively become "mm," and absolve them both of any pressure for further words.
Her face was close to Max's. Not as close as it had been, not touching, because this was a moment of pause, and she thought he had something to say, perhaps, or not to say with words but to communicate. She wanted to kiss him again, maybe, but she waited for a moment, instead, looking into his eyes.
"Mm?" she said, because it was a neutral sound, a sound that, if she'd misjudged, could just as easily retroactively become "mm," and absolve them both of any pressure for further words.
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MethodicalSlacker
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"I just, um.
"I...
Sigh.
"Misty, I think..."
"I...
Sigh.
"Misty, I think..."
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MurderWeasel
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Misty stared at Max, at his face, into his eyes. Her own narrowed slightly, not in fear or anger or even distrust. She had, somehow, let go of that for the moment. She was just uncertain now, unsure and a little guilty and she didn't even know why.
She squeezed his shoulder. Not too hard. Couldn't be pushy, or condescending, but Misty wasn't so used to this sort of communication. It wasn't how she normally operated, and she didn't know what to do. It took her a moment to pull herself together, to come up with even a loose plan of action.
It wasn't a great one, but it was what she had.
She smiled, genuine again, felt her heart beating faster, faster even than when their mouths had met. She wanted to pull him close and hold him tight, but didn't know what it would mean, so she did nothing of the sort.
"It's okay," she said. "Whatever... whatever it is, whatever you want to... have to say, it's okay."
She squeezed his shoulder. Not too hard. Couldn't be pushy, or condescending, but Misty wasn't so used to this sort of communication. It wasn't how she normally operated, and she didn't know what to do. It took her a moment to pull herself together, to come up with even a loose plan of action.
It wasn't a great one, but it was what she had.
She smiled, genuine again, felt her heart beating faster, faster even than when their mouths had met. She wanted to pull him close and hold him tight, but didn't know what it would mean, so she did nothing of the sort.
"It's okay," she said. "Whatever... whatever it is, whatever you want to... have to say, it's okay."
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MethodicalSlacker
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"I don't know the words for what I want to say to you, Misty."
Max felt her hand upon his shoulder, and placed his own on top of it. He smiled back at her, weakly, not quite knowing how to express what was bubbling in him. It felt like a lot, and also not so much. It was immense, and also shallow.
For a moment he felt young again. Very, very young, and very, very small, and very, very different on the inside. He felt like the weight of everything he had learned or read about or thought in the last several years was shifted off his back and onto the ground for a moment. If he ever picked the weight up again, he'd never be able to take it off. He could give it all up now, too. This was it.
This was the point of no return.
"Um," he mumbled.
And then he thought of where he'd be in the next week or so, and how he would be just taken, spirited away from this temporary stopover, a transparently intermittent singular moment of tranquility, causing Max to wholly understand that whatever decisions, whatever compulsions, whatever crossroad he believed himself to be situated in the center of, his path had been determined long, long before he arrived.
"You're going on the D.C. trip, right?" Max asked.
Max felt her hand upon his shoulder, and placed his own on top of it. He smiled back at her, weakly, not quite knowing how to express what was bubbling in him. It felt like a lot, and also not so much. It was immense, and also shallow.
For a moment he felt young again. Very, very young, and very, very small, and very, very different on the inside. He felt like the weight of everything he had learned or read about or thought in the last several years was shifted off his back and onto the ground for a moment. If he ever picked the weight up again, he'd never be able to take it off. He could give it all up now, too. This was it.
This was the point of no return.
"Um," he mumbled.
And then he thought of where he'd be in the next week or so, and how he would be just taken, spirited away from this temporary stopover, a transparently intermittent singular moment of tranquility, causing Max to wholly understand that whatever decisions, whatever compulsions, whatever crossroad he believed himself to be situated in the center of, his path had been determined long, long before he arrived.
"You're going on the D.C. trip, right?" Max asked.
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MurderWeasel
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Misty wanted to say something too, she thought, but Max was a step ahead of her. She didn't even know what it was that she wanted to vocalize, let alone any words to conjure it; there was just this the idea that there had to be something correct for now, and she yearned to be able to share it, or even just to know it.
She couldn't guess what he had on his mind, whether it was good or bad for her or him or them, and she might have been a lot more nervous but for the hand and the smile. She smiled back, felt his palm against the backs of her fingers, and it was okay.
And then he spoke, and it was... not exactly okay anymore. Not broken, not bad. Safer, in a way, but also not. The topic had veered to something further removed, something that so many of their classmates were excited for. Misty wasn't, though, not for the trip and not for what she was about to say. Because the answer she had for Max was, she was sure, not the one he wanted to hear. She looked hard into his eyes for a moment, then let hers drift closed so she would not have to witness his reaction.
"I," she said, and then she ran her tongue quickly over her upper lip, which was maybe dry or just feeling strange from the kissing, "actually, I'm not."
She couldn't guess what he had on his mind, whether it was good or bad for her or him or them, and she might have been a lot more nervous but for the hand and the smile. She smiled back, felt his palm against the backs of her fingers, and it was okay.
And then he spoke, and it was... not exactly okay anymore. Not broken, not bad. Safer, in a way, but also not. The topic had veered to something further removed, something that so many of their classmates were excited for. Misty wasn't, though, not for the trip and not for what she was about to say. Because the answer she had for Max was, she was sure, not the one he wanted to hear. She looked hard into his eyes for a moment, then let hers drift closed so she would not have to witness his reaction.
"I," she said, and then she ran her tongue quickly over her upper lip, which was maybe dry or just feeling strange from the kissing, "actually, I'm not."
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MethodicalSlacker
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Max nodded. No other reaction crossed his countenance, and no other reaction would, if he could help it. That was that, then. Max’s disappointment at hearing this fact was rather high, but it was tapered by the fact that he had been bracing for bad news since he let the question leave his lips.
He had silently hoped that they would have the opportunity to make memories, but there was no reason to silently or otherwise grieve the loss of that. It would be a motion of avarice to want more than what time they possessed. Avarice, and lust, in somewhat equal proportions, though internally Max had some difficulty disentangling the two sins
“If you don’t mind me asking, why?” Max queried, “Are you okay?”
He blinked, and spoke again, this time slightly shakier.
“Is there anything I can do to help you?”
He had silently hoped that they would have the opportunity to make memories, but there was no reason to silently or otherwise grieve the loss of that. It would be a motion of avarice to want more than what time they possessed. Avarice, and lust, in somewhat equal proportions, though internally Max had some difficulty disentangling the two sins
“If you don’t mind me asking, why?” Max queried, “Are you okay?”
He blinked, and spoke again, this time slightly shakier.
“Is there anything I can do to help you?”
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MurderWeasel
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"Oh," Misty said, and she felt like she was almost about to cry and hated it and didn't know why, why she hated it or why she felt this way.
It was a choice. A logical choice, and more than that a moral choice, and it had been a simple and easy choice until right now, right this very moment, but it was too late now to change her mind.
She had made no secret of her decision, but also had not shouted it from the rooftops. A few of her peers had asked her. Generally, she had lied to them. It had given her significantly more pleasure to do so, she had told herself, than the trip would have. She knew full well that was probably untrue; the capitol sounded fascinating, and she wanted to see the museums, wanted to visit the White House, especially right now, wanted to see how the government really worked (or, more often, didn't). She wanted to have one last hurrah with her classmates, or at least with the ones she liked. She could see it in her mind's eye, her and Faith and Max, maybe get some others along, Lucas and Demetri and Garren were sort of alright sometimes, ish. They could roam the city, have dinner together, laugh.
She'd been telling everyone who asked that she'd had a terrible premonition of horrible, creeping, apocalyptic doom that would swallow them all up and reduce their existences to misery. Nobody really took what she said about visions and fortunetelling and rituals seriously, and she doubted she was giving anyone pause, but she couldn't be faulted for trying. If she didn't get to have fun, well, she could take an honest shot at scaring everyone else so much that they couldn't, either.
She wanted Max to have fun. She wanted to be there with him, but she couldn't, and she wanted him to understand why. He'd offered to help, and that had to be why her voice was strained.
"I," she said, and she licked her lip again, started again, the order was wrong and jumbled and her words came out in a cluttered mess, but it was what she had.
"Thank you. I'm, well, I'm fine. I'm okay. It's actually, it's..."
Would he even understand? She hated that the question even crossed her mind.
"I'm going to school. In the fall. I'm going to UTC and, and it's a lot. It's a lot of money and, and I've always said that handouts are stupid, and the government shouldn't do them, and now, now I'm going to have to borrow a lot of money and I'm having to ask for money, for scholarships, and I don't know what I'll get, but, but...
"I can't spend money on a school trip right now. And I know there's a fund, I know I could get help, but I can't take it. I can't be a hypocrite about this. Something, something important like school, I guess I can compromise, but it feels terrible so I can't do it for something so small."
She opened her eyes, again, finally, but she couldn't see very well through the wetness.
It was a choice. A logical choice, and more than that a moral choice, and it had been a simple and easy choice until right now, right this very moment, but it was too late now to change her mind.
She had made no secret of her decision, but also had not shouted it from the rooftops. A few of her peers had asked her. Generally, she had lied to them. It had given her significantly more pleasure to do so, she had told herself, than the trip would have. She knew full well that was probably untrue; the capitol sounded fascinating, and she wanted to see the museums, wanted to visit the White House, especially right now, wanted to see how the government really worked (or, more often, didn't). She wanted to have one last hurrah with her classmates, or at least with the ones she liked. She could see it in her mind's eye, her and Faith and Max, maybe get some others along, Lucas and Demetri and Garren were sort of alright sometimes, ish. They could roam the city, have dinner together, laugh.
She'd been telling everyone who asked that she'd had a terrible premonition of horrible, creeping, apocalyptic doom that would swallow them all up and reduce their existences to misery. Nobody really took what she said about visions and fortunetelling and rituals seriously, and she doubted she was giving anyone pause, but she couldn't be faulted for trying. If she didn't get to have fun, well, she could take an honest shot at scaring everyone else so much that they couldn't, either.
She wanted Max to have fun. She wanted to be there with him, but she couldn't, and she wanted him to understand why. He'd offered to help, and that had to be why her voice was strained.
"I," she said, and she licked her lip again, started again, the order was wrong and jumbled and her words came out in a cluttered mess, but it was what she had.
"Thank you. I'm, well, I'm fine. I'm okay. It's actually, it's..."
Would he even understand? She hated that the question even crossed her mind.
"I'm going to school. In the fall. I'm going to UTC and, and it's a lot. It's a lot of money and, and I've always said that handouts are stupid, and the government shouldn't do them, and now, now I'm going to have to borrow a lot of money and I'm having to ask for money, for scholarships, and I don't know what I'll get, but, but...
"I can't spend money on a school trip right now. And I know there's a fund, I know I could get help, but I can't take it. I can't be a hypocrite about this. Something, something important like school, I guess I can compromise, but it feels terrible so I can't do it for something so small."
She opened her eyes, again, finally, but she couldn't see very well through the wetness.
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MethodicalSlacker
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The answer was no, then. There was not anything that Max could do to provide assistance for Misty, not on his behalf. Had he known several weeks in advance, he could have redeemed a favor with his parents and possibly provided some funding for her attendance, but it was much too late for that course of action. Besides, his parents were not charitable in the slightest. It was one of the
He saw her begin to softly sob, and decided to put the fact that borrowing from the government could hardly be considered a handout because there was expectation to make repayment of that loan shortly after the completion of one's education, and thus the act of accepting federal loans was not strictly a contradiction of Misty's beliefs, because she believed it enough to have a strong emotional response, and Max was not wholly tone-deaf enough to know that what she needed right now was—
"I'm sorry," he said, "I shouldn't have pried."
Max extended his arm and reached out to draw Misty nearer to him, seeking to comfort her with his embrace. If she were to turn him down, he'd understand. He had set her down a path of emotional expression that seemed at least somewhat involuntary, and his own tenderness must seem spoiled and rotten somewhat in comparison and in retrospect.
He saw her begin to softly sob, and decided to put the fact that borrowing from the government could hardly be considered a handout because there was expectation to make repayment of that loan shortly after the completion of one's education, and thus the act of accepting federal loans was not strictly a contradiction of Misty's beliefs, because she believed it enough to have a strong emotional response, and Max was not wholly tone-deaf enough to know that what she needed right now was—
"I'm sorry," he said, "I shouldn't have pried."
Max extended his arm and reached out to draw Misty nearer to him, seeking to comfort her with his embrace. If she were to turn him down, he'd understand. He had set her down a path of emotional expression that seemed at least somewhat involuntary, and his own tenderness must seem spoiled and rotten somewhat in comparison and in retrospect.
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MurderWeasel
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"No," Misty said, as Max reached out and pulled her in, "no, don't be sorry. It's, it's not, I don't..."
She knew now what she was trying to express, but was in the spot Max had apparently been before: the words weren't there. She wanted to say she didn't mind him asking. It was good this way. It was better. Now they knew and they didn't have to dance around it, and it hurt but not as much as leaving things unspoken could've. She wanted to express that she trusted him, that by now she really honestly believed that he would not try to hurt her. She wanted to say that she didn't mind being open with him in theory, that all that bothered her was that it was this particular variety of openness, this lack of self control and this excessive display. She felt like a little kid throwing a tantrum, and she was making her problem his and that was the last thing she wanted to do.
She huddled in closer, pressing against him, and five minutes ago it might've had a very different set of connotations and implications in her mind but right now she just wanted to know that he was there, that she wasn't alone, that someone cared enough to apologize to her for what was nobody's fault but her own.
One of her hands still clung to Max, while the other wiped at her eyes. They felt sticky and her makeup was getting messed up and she hated that this was where they were now, because he didn't deserve this, but also she kind of loved it because she didn't have to fight anyone, not right now.
"I'm sorry," she said, taking a deep breath, then another that sputtered, then one or two more, bringing her voice a step closer to normalcy. "I'm sorry. I'm okay."
She knew now what she was trying to express, but was in the spot Max had apparently been before: the words weren't there. She wanted to say she didn't mind him asking. It was good this way. It was better. Now they knew and they didn't have to dance around it, and it hurt but not as much as leaving things unspoken could've. She wanted to express that she trusted him, that by now she really honestly believed that he would not try to hurt her. She wanted to say that she didn't mind being open with him in theory, that all that bothered her was that it was this particular variety of openness, this lack of self control and this excessive display. She felt like a little kid throwing a tantrum, and she was making her problem his and that was the last thing she wanted to do.
She huddled in closer, pressing against him, and five minutes ago it might've had a very different set of connotations and implications in her mind but right now she just wanted to know that he was there, that she wasn't alone, that someone cared enough to apologize to her for what was nobody's fault but her own.
One of her hands still clung to Max, while the other wiped at her eyes. They felt sticky and her makeup was getting messed up and she hated that this was where they were now, because he didn't deserve this, but also she kind of loved it because she didn't have to fight anyone, not right now.
"I'm sorry," she said, taking a deep breath, then another that sputtered, then one or two more, bringing her voice a step closer to normalcy. "I'm sorry. I'm okay."
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MethodicalSlacker
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"It's okay," Max said, using as comforting of a tone as he believed himself capable.
"It's okay. You don't have to apologize for having emotions."
Briefly, he reflected on the appropriateness of giving her a kiss. Then, he found himself doing so anyway, planting one on her cheek pressing his own face against the spot afterwards, the intimacy and warmth of this closeness striking Max as far more affectionate than the passionate exchange beforehand. This felt decidedly less transactional, he surmised. Their egos had been discarded—or at least, placed momentarily aside.
"I'm here for you," Max whispered softly into her ear, "whatever you want. Whatever you need, right now. Anything."
And with the utterance of those words, Max was startled, shocked less by the ease with which the declaration came and more by how much he actually sincerely meant it.
"It's okay. You don't have to apologize for having emotions."
Briefly, he reflected on the appropriateness of giving her a kiss. Then, he found himself doing so anyway, planting one on her cheek pressing his own face against the spot afterwards, the intimacy and warmth of this closeness striking Max as far more affectionate than the passionate exchange beforehand. This felt decidedly less transactional, he surmised. Their egos had been discarded—or at least, placed momentarily aside.
"I'm here for you," Max whispered softly into her ear, "whatever you want. Whatever you need, right now. Anything."
And with the utterance of those words, Max was startled, shocked less by the ease with which the declaration came and more by how much he actually sincerely meant it.
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MurderWeasel
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"Okay," Misty said.
What else could she say? It was silly, but in some ways being told that she could melt down and cry and go on a rampage if she wanted to drained her of any residual desire to do so. What Max said wasn't something that was necessarily a new idea to her, or a revelation, but that he actually vocalized it was both of those things. He was telling her to just be herself, and that it would be okay.
He kissed her, gently, and said he'd be there. Whatever she wanted or needed.
There were many, many things Misty wanted. There were others, not as numerous but still plentiful, she thought she needed. In this moment, though, none of that stuff mattered. All she wanted, all she needed, was what she'd already gotten: for Max to speak those words to her. It didn't matter if it lasted. It didn't matter what had been and what would be. Right now, it was okay.
She buried her face against his. Her eyes still felt sticky, and she could taste a hint of salt on the corner of her lips, but she could also feel her breath regulating, her heartbeat normalizing.
She mumbled, "That means the world to me."
What else could she say? It was silly, but in some ways being told that she could melt down and cry and go on a rampage if she wanted to drained her of any residual desire to do so. What Max said wasn't something that was necessarily a new idea to her, or a revelation, but that he actually vocalized it was both of those things. He was telling her to just be herself, and that it would be okay.
He kissed her, gently, and said he'd be there. Whatever she wanted or needed.
There were many, many things Misty wanted. There were others, not as numerous but still plentiful, she thought she needed. In this moment, though, none of that stuff mattered. All she wanted, all she needed, was what she'd already gotten: for Max to speak those words to her. It didn't matter if it lasted. It didn't matter what had been and what would be. Right now, it was okay.
She buried her face against his. Her eyes still felt sticky, and she could taste a hint of salt on the corner of her lips, but she could also feel her breath regulating, her heartbeat normalizing.
She mumbled, "That means the world to me."
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MethodicalSlacker
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"I'm glad," Max said, and closed his eyes.
I can't stay here forever.
The thought briefly flickered across his mind, a projection from the lens of some camera obscura hidden deep within the folds of his brain. It was, of course, an uncomfortable truth. Eventually, he'd have to rise from the confines of this bed and wander home, leaving the comforting hold of Misty's arms to face the whipping winds of the veritable emotional wasteland outside. The duration of his stay here was rapidly growing thin. It would be foolish not to live these next few moments to the fullest.
The errant urge to check the time followed shortly after. Silently, he cursed himself. He had lasted less than a mere moment past his internal declaration to immerse himself fully before he felt the urge to wake up from the dream.
A dream, because he knew deep down his reluctance to abscond while it was still relatively safe to do so without alerting Misty's parents came from a deep-seated need for some self-repressed escapism, denied by inwardly aimed affirmations of purpose and resolve to always see the world in the most wholly considered light, perpetually aware of its wrinkles and scrapes and bruises, not trifling with the pleasures of the flesh, only considered about the pursuit of justice, truth, and knowledge. If he left, he would never return. If he stayed, he would never leave.
...
Hesitantly, Max kissed Misty on the cheek once more.
I can't stay here forever.
The thought briefly flickered across his mind, a projection from the lens of some camera obscura hidden deep within the folds of his brain. It was, of course, an uncomfortable truth. Eventually, he'd have to rise from the confines of this bed and wander home, leaving the comforting hold of Misty's arms to face the whipping winds of the veritable emotional wasteland outside. The duration of his stay here was rapidly growing thin. It would be foolish not to live these next few moments to the fullest.
The errant urge to check the time followed shortly after. Silently, he cursed himself. He had lasted less than a mere moment past his internal declaration to immerse himself fully before he felt the urge to wake up from the dream.
A dream, because he knew deep down his reluctance to abscond while it was still relatively safe to do so without alerting Misty's parents came from a deep-seated need for some self-repressed escapism, denied by inwardly aimed affirmations of purpose and resolve to always see the world in the most wholly considered light, perpetually aware of its wrinkles and scrapes and bruises, not trifling with the pleasures of the flesh, only considered about the pursuit of justice, truth, and knowledge. If he left, he would never return. If he stayed, he would never leave.
...
Hesitantly, Max kissed Misty on the cheek once more.
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MurderWeasel
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- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Inevitably, Misty returned to normal, guided by the comfort of the situation. It hadn't quite registered before for her how intimate it was to share her space with somebody else like this. It was a juxtaposition of the unfamiliar closeness and contact and sensations with Max on the one hand, and the familiarity of the bed where she had passed so much of her life, in the room that was her private haven, on the other. There was a lot more than some simple contact happening here, but it felt right. The novel and the routine combined to soothe her, and when she wiped at her eyes again, briefly, she felt that she was more or less on her way back to composure.
The touch of Max's lips against her cheek helped. A lot. It was a reminder of where they'd been tonight, on physical, emotional, and maybe even spiritual levels. It was an affirmation of what he had said, of the care and affection between them.
The trip was coming up, and after that summer when likely they would be occupied in very different ways. Max might be moving right away, or going on some trip to somewhere incredible in Europe. Misty would be looking for a job. Still, it would be nice to find some time to spend together, in less charged, less idealized situations. It would be nice to get dinner somewhere that wasn't fancy, for Misty to maybe treat him to a cheap hamburger if he ate such things, to sit by the river and laugh about nothing, to go see a movie with some friends and make fun of it from the back row. But even if she couldn't have that, even if the end of tonight was the end of everything, she wouldn't begrudge. She understood. And the evening wasn't over quite yet.
Misty squeezed Max's arm again, smiled at him, and moved to kiss him once more.
The touch of Max's lips against her cheek helped. A lot. It was a reminder of where they'd been tonight, on physical, emotional, and maybe even spiritual levels. It was an affirmation of what he had said, of the care and affection between them.
The trip was coming up, and after that summer when likely they would be occupied in very different ways. Max might be moving right away, or going on some trip to somewhere incredible in Europe. Misty would be looking for a job. Still, it would be nice to find some time to spend together, in less charged, less idealized situations. It would be nice to get dinner somewhere that wasn't fancy, for Misty to maybe treat him to a cheap hamburger if he ate such things, to sit by the river and laugh about nothing, to go see a movie with some friends and make fun of it from the back row. But even if she couldn't have that, even if the end of tonight was the end of everything, she wouldn't begrudge. She understood. And the evening wasn't over quite yet.
Misty squeezed Max's arm again, smiled at him, and moved to kiss him once more.