Becoming His

“It’s supposed to be like twenty degrees. I think I’ll be practicing my snow bu

Intent on not wasting a single moment that we have together, Max is waiting for me when I arrive. We quickly establish some basic rules: no leaving the house, no one is allowed in the house, and no technology other than movies.

“One final rule,” Max says, taking a step closer to me. I see the predatory glint in his eyes as he closes in on me. “You’re only allowed to wear underwear.” He grips the bottom of my shirt and pulls it over my head revealing a yellow lacy bra. “You and yellow.” He growls.

I grin, enjoying the appraisal his eyes make as they travel over my body. Max’s hands fall to the button of my dove gray capris, and I smile against his lips as I work to free his shirt.

“You ready to head to your apartment?” Max asks, making a trail of kisses up my spine as I lie on my stomach, feeling blissful. I know we’ll enjoy being home with our families but I still hate leaving this moment, not knowing when we’ll have uninterrupted time together again.

“Promise me that we can do this again.” I sigh into the pillow and close my eyes, loving the contrast of the cool sheets and the heat pouring off Max’s skin.

“Let’s just say we’re sick. We’ll spend Thanksgiving here,” he whispers, landing kisses along my shoulder blade as his hand snakes around my lower back, gripping my waist. Max flips me to my back making me laugh.

“I don’t think Jameson and Kendall will play along.”

Max grunts as his head falls to my chest, his mouth closing around my nipple. I’m not certain if it’s because he knows I’m right, or if it’s elicited from a deeper need. I don’t try to figure it out as his teeth scrape against my sensitive skin making me arch my back and grip his shoulders.

“My god, I love you,” he whispers, looking up at my face as his hands trail from my neck to my hips and then slide beneath me, wrapping around my ass. He squeezes once as he takes in a deep breath and then groans, burying his face in my chest.

We stay another night, soaking up the final hours in the house and fight sleep as we lie tangled together so long our breaths and heart beats become singular.

“Happy Thanksgiving Eve!” Sharon calls from the kitchen as Max and I arrive home. She and my mom stand at the kitchen bar where they share a bottle of wine.

I give her a warm smile and wrap my arms around her in a big hug. Sharon is quite possibly the world’s best hugger. She always holds on for a few extra seconds, as if she is giving you an extra piece of love. I’m grateful to have her as my boyfriend’s mom. She’s comfortable and sweet, constantly reminding me how happy she is that Max and I are dating, but also independent and strong to where she supports me going to school and taking my time in making a decision and reminds me not to let Max get away with anything.

“So your dad says we need to be here by nine because in order to start Thanksgiving off right, we need to experience your pumpkin pancakes and brown sugar bacon,” Sharon says, sitting back at the counter and smiling at me as she wraps an arm around Max’s waist, resting her head on the side of his bicep.

“There’s only one way to find out,” I sing, standing beside my mom and tightly hugging her side, leaning my head on hers. She wraps a delicate arm around my waist. Her comforting scent wafts over me, and she lightly kisses my cheek as her perfectly manicured hand wraps around mine.

I know that I have some of my mother’s qualities, like her love for cooking and ability to talk to nearly anyone and make them feel comfortable, but standing beside her reminds me of the qualities I didn’t receive: beautiful blue eyes that are so clear they look like crystals and self-discipline for the way that she looks and carries herself. I can’t stop mentally comparing us as we stand so close—her perfectly manicured nails beside my short clean ones; her hair perfectly styled and sprayed in place, mine up in a ponytail with several strands falling loose around my face; her elegant dress and heels with my jeans, hoodie, and Converse shoes.

“Ace, did you watch that documentary last week on space travel?” Dad asks, puncturing my barrage of thoughts as he enters the kitchen followed by Je

I lean down welcoming Zeus as he buries his head in my hands. “I feel they grossly took some facts about the government conspiring out of context. I was looking up some of the remarks that they made the next day and even though they were calling themselves a documentary, they had to retract it because there were so many opinions stated that it’s now classified as a mockumentry. I can’t believe how many of these are being made!”

“I know I was watching something on mermaids—”

“No geek talk. It’s a holiday,” Je

“This isn’t geek talk.” Dad scoffs i

“Yes it is. You’re going to begin discussing theories and people that we’ve never heard of, and how they somehow relate to something political. Then Caulder will be here, pounding his chest about how republicans would never have let blah, blah, blah happen. Then Ace will start pulling out facts that most of us have never even heard of, and Caulder will be demanding proof and people will start Googling dates and quotes, and then Caulder will lose, because Caulder always loses, and then he’ll start on his anti anti-gun control spiel and get Mom on board to try to take back some of the control, and then it just becomes a free for all. No geek talk.”

“She’s right. Save it for next Sunday,” Mom says, pulling groceries from the cupboards.

“Can I just hear about the mermaids?” I plead.

“In the den. You have fifteen minutes.” She turns to rummage through the spice cupboard. “Ace, before you go can you come see if there’s any crystallized ginger up there, sweetheart?” My shoulders fall. My mom’s notorious for forgetting groceries and I know that a store run is about to be requested. So much for mermaids.

Standing on a barstool, I hear the door open followed by Kendall yelling “Happy Thanksgiving!”

A chorus of greetings echo from the kitchen as Kendall, Jameson, and Wes make their way into the kitchen. Max had invited Wes when he learned his parents had gone to Barbados and he was pla

“How was Yakima?” I ask as I climb down empty handed and hug each of them.

“It was so cold! Seriously, like frigidly cold! But it was a good time. Jameson’s mom made some of the best pies and jams, and we got to visit a lot of his friends and family. I’m really glad I went,” Kendall says, smiling at Jameson for a moment as though they’re sharing a secret.

“I’m glad you guys had such a great time!” Dad remarks.

Kendall beams in return, looking blissfully happy for a moment, before she claps her hands together. “Alright, the boys are prepared for cookie making.” She rubs her hands together with excitement.

“Oh good, I made extra dough since there will be so many this year. It’s in the fridge ready to go.” Mom runs her nails over her forehead, “I need to run to the store. Sharon do you want to join me?”