Becoming His

He wraps his arm around my shoulders, holding me securely in place, ensuring that he wants me to be close to him as much as I do.

When we reach the Jeep, Max opens the passenger door for me, and I clutch tighter to him, refusing to let go as I bury my face in his shoulder and feel his laugh. “I’m glad you missed me this week,” he admits, squeezing me tightly against him as I take in a deep, cleansing breath of Max and smile.

“I don’t want to let you go.”

“Ten minutes, then we’ll be home and I won’t allow you to be more than three inches from me at any given time,” he assures me. I give him one final squeeze before reluctantly releasing my hold of him and climbing in the car.

We spend the night tangled together getting a renewed sense of energy after the long week as we explore one another like it’s the first time.

Two weeks later Mindi expands our family as baby Juliet is born, gracing us with my fifth niece that is just as perfect as the other four.

A week before Valentine’s Day, Max closes my anatomy textbook lying across my lap and tosses it to the ground with a loud thud. I frown, looking up at him, and he gives me a devious smile and pulls the covers down, climbing on the bed looking ready to pounce when both of our cell phones chime simultaneously.

“I thought she gave up on texting after she sent that message about your Aunt’s ass looking big in those pants and accidentally sent it to your aunt?” Max asks as I roll for my phone.

“She did. It’s probably Kendall or Jameson yelling at us for you throwing my book on the ground.”

“Throwing,” Max scoffs as I slide my finger across the screen when I see that the message is from Jesse. “It’s probably Mindi complaining about her tattoo hurting again. You guys should have reneged on making her and Sava

“Not a chance,” I reply absently.

Jesse: what do u think of spending V Day in Vegas?

Neither Abby nor I are twenty-one yet.

“Who is it?” Max asks, softly placing kisses along my jaw towards my ear.

“Jesse. He wants us to go to Vegas next week for Valentine’s Day.”

Max acknowledges me with a quiet hum. I don’t know if it’s in interest in going or his current mood as his lips find the sensitive skin behind my ear, causing my body to shiver and heat all at once.

My phone chimes again and I drop it to the bed while Max traces his tongue along my ear. It chimes again, and again, and then once more before I groan in frustration and pick it up.

Jesse: She says u don’t have a choice

Jesse: She says u r the MOH, so u have 2 come

Jesse: R U there?

Jesse: She thinks UR freaking out

“What!” I shriek. Jerking upright, I nearly slam my forehead against Max’s.

“What’s wrong?” He bolts up and looks at me with concern.

I turn my phone so he can read the screen. His eyebrows shoot up a second before a giant smile covers his face. I pull my phone back and don’t bother responding to Jesse. Instead, I scroll to Abby and hit send. Sitting fully erect in bed, I proceed to squeal as soon as she picks up. Then we squeal together for a few moments as Max laughs and flips the TV on as Abby begins telling me in minute detail about the proposal.

“What’s going through your mind?”

I turn to look up at Max and see his eyes focused on me. His arm tightens around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him.

“I’m just surprised. I don’t know. It just seems so weird for one of our friends to be getting married. I mean they’ve only been dating since like August, and Abby’s only twenty.”

Max shrugs. “I thought we discussed that love doesn’t have age limits.”

I grin and let out a shallow breath. “I know, I just, I don’t know.”

“You just want what’s best for her because she’s one of your best friends,” Max supplies. “It’s alright to feel nervous for them, and it’s even okay to voice your concerns if you feel like that’s necessary. But sometimes people are ready at twenty. They know that they love the person and aren’t interested in spending another day without declaring to the world that they love that person.”

“Yeah, but who says you have to do that by getting married?”

“Pretty much all of society. Why do you think there’s such a fight for marriage equality?”

“But she’s twenty!”

“And she feels ready, and that’s what’s important.”

“I don’t know, I think that rushing into marriage is partly why our divorce rate is so high in the U.S. I mean if people would just slow down, maybe it wouldn’t be so high.”

“You’re right, it is high, and I agree that marriage isn’t something people should rush into, but those two haven’t spent a single day apart from each other since August. I know that isn’t years, but I think they have a pretty good idea as to what they’re getting themselves into.”

“I hope so. I think it’s kind of crazy because I can’t even commit to a freaking major and they’re getting married, but you’re right, they do seem to love each other a lot.” I let out another breath and nestle closer to Max. I wrap my arm around his bare waist and press my cheek to his warm chest, breathing in my favorite scent as I fall asleep.

The wedding is perfect. It screams of Abby with small feminine details, and yet is fast and a bit loud, just like her. I’d initially feared that she was pla

“Let’s do something crazy!” Max says with a large grin as we make our way through The Bellagio, looking at all the different sights. I still have Kendall’s ID, but I hadn’t realized how thorough they are when you cash out your chips, and my desire to not be arrested is marginally larger than my desire to gamble … by a lot.

“What kind of crazy?” I ask, stepping aside as a large group of guys walks by, holding large drinks with twisty straws. All of them are bare chested and in swim shorts and hats, making no effort to hide the fact that they’re checking me out even though I’m holding Max’s hand.

“I’m about to tattoo ‘his’ to your forehead,” Max jokes, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me against his chest.

“That’s perfect!” I cry. “Ready for a permanent dose of crazy?” I ask, looking at our entwined hands. Max raises his eyebrows and then gives me a single nod, and I lead him down the street, through the crowds of people until I reach the destination we’d passed when we arrived.

“This might hurt like hell,” the older man covered in tattoos warns.

I shrug and splay my fingers as I lay my hand on the arm of the chair. Max had insisted he go first so I had more time to think about it, but I refused and eventually he gave up and let me go first.

The tattoo is relatively quick and thankfully has no shading, because this makes my side tattoo feel like a joke. When the gun turns off, I look down at my ring finger where it now reads ‘His’ on the side facing my pinky in Max’s handwriting.

“I love it!” I sigh, keeping my eyes glued to the small ink that represents such a large piece of me. So much truth is in that single word. I’ve become his.