Becoming His

Two hours later Kendall and Shelby take turns heaving overboard, along with most of the other passengers. Many have not made it to the edge, covering several areas of the deck in puddles of vomit. The stench from both the vomit and the bathrooms quickly becomes potent with the heat from the afternoon sun.

I drink two more beers to try and calm myself down as I face the reality that the generators aren’t working either. There’s no way they’d allow this to go on for so long if there was an alternative; but no one with answers is anywhere to be found. The crew members handing out drinks look my age or younger, and they flinch every time someone approaches them.

I’ve lost signal on my phone and turn it off to preserve battery life as they start distributing pillows and instructing us all to stay above deck for our own safety and comfort.

I don’t even bother telling Kendall and Shelby they should’ve listened to my warning on the crab cakes. They’re both miserably hot and feeling awful. Instead, I assure them they should start feeling better soon and give them bottles of water that are as warm as a bath to drink.

Sleep is an elusive promise as I try to offer support to a slew of sick passengers, being one of the few that turned down the crab cakes this morning.

We arrive home from our disastrous spring break two days early, and with an extra flight from Texas to San Diego. It’s after midnight and we all feel a common sense of exhaustion, sun-sickness, dirty, and hungry. I want nothing more than to shower the last three days off and climb in bed, but my need to see Max is even greater.

My hot shower feels incredible, and feeling clean for the first time in days is even better. I send Kendall a quick text as I dress, offering her a ride, and gather some things together to bring over to Max’s.

Thirty minutes later Kendall and I are in my car. She looks beat and doesn’t bother speaking as we make our way to their house.

“Hey!” Landon greets us with a grin that falters when we quietly mumble our replies.

Jameson enters from the kitchen and gives a wistful smile to Kendall as he makes his way to her and wraps her in his arms.

“I want to go to bed,” she murmurs into his shoulder.

Jameson nods and leads them down the hall as the front door opens. I turn to see Max holding a couple of brown bags that are bleeding with grease.

“Hey, babe, sorry I’m late. I just wanted to make sure you guys had something to eat.”

My bag falls to the floor as I go to wrap my arms around him. “You’re the best.”

Max presses a kiss to my temple and I feel his smile against my skin. “Where’s Kendall?”

“She went to bed. We’re tired.”

The three of us sprawl out on the couch and dig into the bags of street tacos. Food has never tasted so good.

“I guess the bonus is that you got really tan.” Landon smiles hopefully at me.

“Forget the tan. The last three days were hell. I don’t want to discuss a silver lining right now.” I tuck myself into Max’s side and fall asleep within seconds, feeling complete and relaxed.

Max’s phone ringing wakes us both up the following morning. I feel like I could sleep another five days.

I hear Max grunt a greeting into the phone as his arm snakes around my waist and pulls me closer to him, making me groan in protest as I hear Wes’s happy tone on the other end inviting Max to go hang out.

“No, not today. Sorry, dude, I’m hanging out with Ace today, or the Venezuelan posing as my girlfriend.” He chuckles at his own joke, and I glare at him before lifting the duvet over my head and snuggling closer to his warmth.

As Max wraps up his call with Wes there’s a loud knocking on the door, earning another groan from me as I pull the duvet off and glare toward it.

“Wakey, wakey!” Jameson calls, opening the door before either of us grant him permission. “Hey, get your lazy asses out of bed. We’re going to breakfast.”

Max laughs an acceptance as I scrub at my eyes, trying to will the sleep from them.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat a crab cake again.” Kendall groans as we pour over our menus.

“You and me both,” I mutter.

“That’s alright. I haven’t been able to touch seafood in over a year,” Jameson shares. I watch him with mild interest as he fishes an ice cube out of his water.

“So only a couple of months left until summer. What are we going to do?” Landon asks, throwing a sugar packet at Jameson in retaliation for flicking the ice cube at him.

“Ace is going to need to hide.” Kendall turns her eyes to me. “Mom is going to freak out that you still haven’t declared a major. She was a little crazed when you decided to take that poetry course.” I feel the daunting wave of the future roll over us as I shoot her a look to shut up. The last thing I want to discuss this morning is my lack of a future plan.

“Why don’t you just move in too?” Jameson suggests.

I feel my eyebrows shoot to my hairline as I look at him dumbfounded. The sleepiness that’s been lingering over me like a shadow instantly vaporizes. I turn to see Max staring at me with a calculated expression.

“You could. We spend most of our time there anyways. It’s closer to the campus and you wouldn’t have to constantly be going back and forth getting things.”

“I don’t know,” I quietly murmur, suddenly exerting far too much attention to my coffee as I add cream to it.

Jameson’s need to flick more ice cubes across the table is a distraction, but I can feel that this discussion isn’t over.

I lie in bed beside Max, my exhaustion covers me like a lead weight, but I’m having a difficult time allowing it to win over my racing thoughts.

I’m twenty. I want to travel and experience life. I have a difficult time choosing a major because I don’t know what I want to do. All I’m certain of is that I want to make a difference and in some way improve the world and people’s lives. How am I going to explore the world and life if I move in with my boyfriend at twenty? And then what? Will we get married? Will I be twenty-two, married, and pregnant? Is that what I want? My heart thrums in my chest as my eyes dart around the room, noticing the stacks of my books and clothes that clutter so many surfaces now. I have a section of his closet and a few designated drawers. I have tampons in his bathroom.

My eyes land on Max as he sleeps beside me and fall upon his finger exposing his tattoo. How did this happen without me even realizing it? I can’t do this. I’m not ready for this.

I sneak out of bed and wander through the room, gathering my things and shoving what I can into my duffel. Grabbing a few more things in my arms, I quietly head to the bedroom door and back to my apartment.

Pacing through the apartment, I rake my hands through my hair as I try to understand the rush of emotions constricting my chest. My breathing turns labored. I’m having my first panic attack.

A forceful knocking wakes me. My heart thrums and I know without asking that it’s Max.

I slowly open the door, exposing Max in a pair of cargo shorts and T-shirt, his eyes wide and wild. “Where’d you go? What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” Max rears his head back as though I’ve slapped him. “I wake up and you’re gone and half your shit is missing. What’s going on?”

“I just …” A heavy sigh seeps through the air between us. “I can’t do this, Max. I just need some space.”

“Can’t do what?” he asks, his eyes dancing over my face with a pleading expression.

“I just need some time. I think we’re going too fast.”