omething about his touch unravels me. I lean over him, losing myself to the feel of his fingertips brushing my skin. With Justin, the buildup to sex had always felt rushed, a frantic race to the finish line, but with us, it's like music, a soft melody building up to the chorus.

His hands trail my breasts before dipping between my thighs. I shiver a little as the pad of his thumb grazes over me. Every stroke sends a quick little charge through my skin like his touch is magnetic. I take a deep breath, trailing my gaze down his nose and his lips, where it takes in the curve of his mouth.

He pulls back a little, watching me as his fingers move in soft, rhythmic motions. The way his gaze holds mine makes me nervous. I've never had anyone look at me the way he does: I'm not just a pretty face or a pass time – I'm someone he loves.

"You drive me crazy," he says softly. "You know that?"

The heat between my thighs grows stronger. Up close, it's easy to see the flecks of honey in Max's eyes and the feathery scar near his brow. I reach up and gently run a finger across it, surprised I've never noticed it before. I notice other things too, like how his jaw contracts whenever I moan or how his breathing quickens when I push my hair back, exposing my neck.

I let out a quick, fluttery breath. His fingers are electric, erasing my thoughts and replacing them with nothing but the desire to be touched. And even though this is happening in a gym, where we're holed away in some dark, cold office, things couldn't feel more perfect. This gym is my home, the one place I can go where I don't feel so afraid– I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

I pull him toward me, needing him closer, and lift his t-shirt over his head before throwing it to the side. The vein in his neck begins to pulsate a little, driving me insane. I press my mouth to the delicate skin and run a hand down his chest, over each well-defined muscle. He shivers a little, and so do I, but neither of us stops.

It's hard to pinpoint exactly why this feels so different: maybe it's because things with Justin never felt all that serious. Or maybe because when Max looks at me, I know deep down this isn't temporary. The way he feels is the same way I feel, and it's clear every time he looks at me.

I'm close to the edge when I unzip his trousers. I can already feel him beneath the material, taut and ready. Desperate to feel him, I take in a breath, reach into his boxers and take him in my hand.

His reaction to my touch is immediate. He tenses first, then clenches his jaw like he's fighting for control, but the second my hand starts to move, he gives in. My chin rests in the groove of his neck, my lips slightly parted and pressed to his skin. He always tastes sweet and smells of a light cologne that I can't get enough of. I nibble his skin harder, enjoying the way his muscles tense like I'm driving him crazy.

And suddenly, everything feels so much clearer. The fallout from the party is forgotten, and the only thing that matters is the way he makes me feel, not just now, but whenever I'm with him: hope, excitement, fear. And maybe my family will never accept it, but I don't care anymore. For once, I feel happy.

Loved.

The moment I think it, warmth spreads through my body, starting between my thighs and pooling in the tips of my toes. I shudder a little, breathless and excited and desperate for more, so I start to position myself over him.

His jaw contracts at the same time his hands shoot up to keep me still. His voice is pained and gravelly as he says, "Alyssa, we can't."

Panic rushes through me as I pull back a little. I'm suddenly thinking the absolute worst like maybe I was wrong and he doesn't really want this; maybe I'm a fool. "Yeah," I say, hiding my hurt, "I mean if you don't want to–"

His eyes darken. For a brief second, neither of us speaks as he studies my expression, which I'm certain must look pathetic. I start to pull back, but he grabs me by the waist and draws me closer, locking me in place with his arms. "There is nothing," he says, his voice low, "that I want more, all right? I just meant I don't have anything."

I suddenly feel stupid for doubting him. My arms find their way back around his neck, reclaiming their rightful place. "I'm on birth control."

His eyes grow hooded like he hadn't considered this. Deliberation crosses his face, and in the silence that passes, I know what he's thinking: what if we aren't meant for each other? What if we were wrong all along? What if we've risked everyone we love just for this to crash and burn?

But something else must cross his mind, because he brings his hand up and wraps it in my hair. We share a brief look, the kind that speaks a thousand words without either of us moving our lips. And just like that, those questions dissipate.

His next kiss comes heavy and demanding. My thighs tighten around his waist, closing the last remaining sliver of distance between us. I bite my lip, able to feel every ridge of him beneath me, and it's enough to steal my breath. His heart is pounding beneath my palms, a quick pitter-patter that matches my own, a sign that he wants this just as much as I do.

"Alyssa." His voice comes out low and gruff. It sends shivers down my skin, and as I pull back a little to look into his eyes, I get this strange sense of deja vu. I've seen this before, a glimpse of a future I never thought I'd have, a future I thought I didn't deserve. I was supposed to end up like my mother, married to a man who I wasn't sure I loved in exchange for an easy life. And a life with Max will not be easy, that much is clear. But somehow I just know it will be worth it.

"We don't have to," he says. "I can wait."

But I don't want to wait. After everything that happened tonight, now feels like the perfect time. "I know," I say, and that's one of the many things that sets him apart from Justin. If I asked him to, Max would wait forever. "But I want this." And then to clarify, I add, "You."

I can almost see the fire that flashes in his expression. He grabs my thighs, lifting me slightly until I feel him against me, hard and ready. He inhales sharply as he lowers me down, slowly at first as if savoring the moment, and as he starts to overwhelm me, as his skin against mine sends a current through my stomach, my breath catches too.

This is it, I realize – what I've been missing all along. Not just missing, but craving. I've spent the last few years desperate to be popular, surrounding myself with the kind of people who claimed to love me, but as Max sinks into me, rocking me gently like waves in the ocean, I realize that none of that was real.

This is.

❤️