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Max doesn’t like to admit when she’s jealous. Jealousy is an ugly thing and it’s not just some simple emotion for her. It eats away at her until she can feel it lodged in-between her ribs, making it hard to breathe at times.
Like when she sees the girl she’s loved for so long be with someone else that is not her, which she sees all the time.
It’s been that way for years, since Jane and Mike got together, and Max hates it. She hates everything about it. She hates how they look at eachother, how they constantly have to be touching each other in some way, how they’re always around each other, no personal space. It’s sickening.
It’s not so extreme nowadays, but it used to be too much. It used to make Max sick with envy. It still does, just a little less. Just a little. Okay, maybe more than a little, but Max likes to think she has more control over her emotions now compared to in the past.
Quite frankly, Mike is a jerk. Max wasn’t aware of how much hatred she could have for a human being until he came into her life.
She looked past it at the start. Jane is her best friend, and she was happy. She seemed happy for the first time in a while, and that was Max’s priority.
But now? Now, Mike is just a piece of shit. He treats Jane so horribly and it pisses Max off like no other.
Jane is the sweetest soul to ever live, Mike is lucky to even be within in her presence. And to treat her like he does? He’s an idiot, Max can’t stress that enough.
Max would treat her so much better, if given the chance. And if she ever was given the chance, she’d make sure Jane knew what it felt like to be treated right.
“It’s been, like, ten minutes.” Mike sighs, slumping down from his spot on the floor, his back against the couch. “I think it’s clean enough.”
Max doesn’t look up from the Walkman that she’s been rigorously cleaning the tape head for the past few minutes with a cotton swab. It’s a process that requires complete steady hands, which is why she is the one doing this.
The living room of her house is quiet, save for the persistent hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen and occasional pop of gum from Jane. It’s a hot Tuesday in June, a slow and stagnant day where the air is thick and stuffy, the only thing moving in the room is the languid rotation of the ceiling fan that isn’t actually moving any air.
“You have no patience.” Max shakes her head, her voice flat and rid of any emotion. She’d like to blame it on the heat for making her so easily irritable, but she knows that’s not the case. She finally slides the swab out, the light from the lamp catching on the silver head of the player.
She still doesn’t look up, not in the mood to feed into Mike’s antics. She can already tell he’s staring at her with that look he always gives her when she talks back to him, which is a lot. The boy needs to be humbled, and Max is convinced she was brought into this world to do just that.
He’s never done anything to Max for her to be such a bitch towards him, other than be annoying. Oh, and treat the girl she loves like utter shit. But other than that, he’s not all that bad, she guesses. He’s not a total asshole like Max loves to make him out to be. Well, he is, but not to a terrible extent. He just has a way of taking up space that feels like he’s trying to take control of the room and everyone in it.
Jane is sitting on the couch, her chin resting in her palm and her elbow propped up on the arm of the couch, watching Max work. She looks tired, exhaused even. Maybe because of the heat making her lazy and sleepy, like it usually does. Max can’t help but look up at her every once and a while. Her eyes always seem to be drawn to Jane.
There’s a softness to Jane that Mike seems to mistake for weakness, a quietness he tries to fill with his own noise. It’s incredibly irksome.
“Did it work?” Jane speaks up, the first thing she’s said in the past twenty or so minutes. Compared to Mike, who has been nonstop running his mouth.
“Yup.” Max immediately respons, her eyes darting up quickly to look at Jane’s face, her gaze lingering just a second too long to be considered casual. She reaches out and slides the Walkman across the coffee table in her direction, the plastic scraping against the wood. “Works perfectly. I fixed the wobble, so the high notes don’t warp.”
Mike hums in acknowledgment, even though it wasn’t his question that was being answered. “Great. Now can we figure out the dinner situation? I’m starving.” He complains, something he’s rather good at.
He runs a hand down his face. “I was thinking that barbecue place. The one we ate at a few months ago, remember?” His eyes glance to the side. “Unless Jane’s still feeling ‘too classy’ for it.”
“I’m not feeling too classy.” Jane mumbles, her gaze still fixed on the Walkman, as if the piece of technology would save her from this conversation.
Mike’s shoulder is pressed against Jane’s calf from his spot on the floor. They always had to be touching in some way, so it’s a surprise when Jane shifts, leaning her leg away from the heavy pressure of Mike’s bodyweight and pulling her knees up to her chest.
Max feels a familiar, sharp heat bloom in her chest. It’s not just anger; it’s a possessive sort of need to reach across the table and pull Jane into her own orbit. She imagines the look on Mike's face if she simply stepped forward and just took Jane’s hand out of nowhere, claiming the space he thinks he owns. She doesn’t, despite how she itches to do so, her fingers twitching with the need. Instead, she just sits back on the heels of her feet, distracting herself by drumming her fingers on the table.
“The barbecue place is too loud. You can barely even hear yourself think over the jukebox.” Max says, her eyes briefly landing on Mike before slowly sliding back over to Jane.
Max knows Jane doesn’t like loud noises, and that restaurant is nothing but noise. “And she said she was wanting something light. Right, Jane?” Max raises her eyebrows as Jane meets her eyes. “That little bistro. You know, the one by the park that has those cute lights you pointed out.”
There’s a light that appears in Jane’s eyes that wasn’t there two seconds ago. “Oh, yeah. I did. I forgot about that.”
“The bistro it is, then.” Mike conceded, though his tone was anything but willing. He stands up with a grunt. “But if the wait is over twenty minutes, we’re doing barbecue. I don’t want to spend my day waiting in a stupidly long line.”
Max watches as Jane’s expression deflates, the spark in her eyes that lasted a full ten seconds at the talk of the bistro gone in the blink of an eye. She doesn’t argue, she just lets her head loll back, her eyes following the spin of the ceiling fan.
“I’ll drive,” Max offers, her voice cutting through the thick tension like a sharp knife. “My car has the better AC.” She shrugs a shoulder.
Before Mike can say anything, his mouth opening like he has more to say than just a simple ‘okay’ to her previous comment, Max speaks again. “Oh, wait, Mike?” She waits until his eyes meet hers. “Maybe you could.. stop by the store first before we go? So you can go pick up those batteries you’ve been nonstop talking about. For your RC car.” She hopes that’s a good enough excuse.
Mike pauses, his eyes darting between Max and Jane, presumably thinking about how long that will take. Because, like he’s said multiple times, he’s starving.
“After that, you can just come back here and we can all ride together to go eat.” Max adds, looking over at Jane. She’s still staring up at the ceiling, as if she has no place in this conversation.
Mike hums, seemingly agreeing to Max’s plan. “Alright.” He moves over to Jane, leaning down and smacking a quick, distracted kiss on her cheek. “I won’t be long, ten minutes or less. I’m fucking starving.” He complains, yet again before grabbing his keys off of the kitchen counter and heading for the door, the screen door slamming shut behind him with a metallic rattle that echoes throughout the house.
The silence that rushes back into the room is sudden and heavy. It’s thick with the sudden absence of Mike's noise. Max doesn’t move for a heartbeat, watching Jane let out a long, slow exhale. Her shoulders drop two inches, her entire posture sagging as if a heavy coat had been lifted from her frame. She looks at Max, and for the first time all afternoon, her eyes aren’t tired; they’re searching.
”You did that on purpose.” She accuses, but there’s a smile forming on her lips.
Max returns her contagious smile. “Maybe.” She gets up from the floor and moves toward Jane, sitting down next to her on the couch. They’re close now, their legs touching. Still, Max scoots even closer. Closer until she’s overly invading Jane’s personal space, the kind of proximity that would have made Mike fume if he were here to see it.
She reaches out, her fingers just barely brushing the soft skin of Jane’s arm. “You look like you need a break.” Max’s eyes bore into hers. “Specifically from Mike. A real one.”
”A real one.” Jane echoes, slowly nodding her head as her eyes search Max’s. She doesn’t move away, instead she leans into the touch, her arm brushing against Max’s side. The touch sends electricity through Max, making her shiver.
For a moment, they just sit there in the quiet of the living room, the only sound the rhythmic click-clack of the ceiling fan and the distant rumble of Mike’s car pulling out of the driveway. It’s peaceful now, and it gives Max more time to actually study Jane’s pretty face without Mike’s eyes burning holes into the side of her head.
Max swallows thickly, letting her hand slide down Jane’s arm until her fingertips graze the bone in her wrist. “The bistro is still a good idea, by the way.” Max murmurs. “But we don’t have to go right now. We have, like, atleast twenty minutes. You know it isn’t taking him ten minutes or less to even get there.”
That earns a little breathy laugh out of Jane, her pupils dilated, something Max has never seen on her. “Twenty minutes.” She repeats in a whisper, her ankle moving to press against Max’s foot.
Max is hesitant to touch, even though the thought is all that’s circulating around in her brain. All she wants to do is touch, touch, touch. But does Jane want that, too? Is she aware of just how much Max yearns for her? Does she know about the love that’s coursing through her veins 24/7? It’s hard to tell. They’ve been best friends for years now, Jane probably thinks Max is just being friendly.
But the way Jane is staring at Max right now is making her think otherwise.
Her face is tinged a pretty pink, the freckles dotted across her face are more prominent now that it’s summertime. There’s a small crease in between her brows, her pupils are blown, and she’s searching Max’s face in a careful way.
Max’s hand is shaking as it comes up to trace the line of Jane’s jaw. She’s never been this nervous before, ever. She’s not a nervous person. But Jane brings out a new side of Max in every way and it’s scary.
“You really do deserve better.” Max says quietly, afraid of speaking too loudly and disturbing the air between them. “You know that, right? He doesn’t deserve you.”
Jane doesn’t answer her question. Instead she just closes her eyes, leaning down to rest her forehead on Max’s shoulder, a surrender that feels more intimate than anything. She exhales, long and heavy, like all the tension she’s been holding in all day just left her body all over again.
Max can feel the warmth from Jane’s body through her shirt, and she’s holding her breath, she realizes, scared to move too much and scare her off. Jane’s chest rises and falls in time of Max’s racing heartbeat, she can hear the thumping in her ears and she hopes Jane can’t hear it.
Slowly, Max’s hand comes up to gently curl around the nape of Jane’s neck, just letting her hand rest there and feel the warmth radiating through her skin. She fights the urge to pull her closer, even though they’re already skin to skin.
”He doesn’t see you.” Max continues, speaking the words right into Jane’s ear. “He doesn’t see you for who you are. He doesn’t even know how to look at you.” Her thumb starts rubbing back and forth on the back of her neck. “You deserve someone who sees you. Really sees you.”
Jane lifts her head just enough to look Max in the eye, her expression raw and beautiful. “I don’t know who that someone is if it’s not Mike.” She confesses, her lips barely moving as she mumbles the words.
Max holds back the words that she desperately wants to say. Me. I’m that someone. I see you. Really see you.
”You’ll find that that someone eventually.” Max lands on instead, her eyebrows pulled together. “They’re probably closer than you think.” She makes sure to say it in a suggestive tone, but not too obviously. “But anyone is better than Mike.”
”Max.” Jane giggles out, attempting to scold her but not being able to say it in a serious tone.
“What? It’s true!” Max giggles along with her, moving her head when Jane does in an attempt to keep eye contact. “You could do so much better and you know it.”
The giggles calm down after a few seconds, the silence coming back, their eye contact never breaking.
“You can do so much better.” Max repeats, not liking the stillness in the room, the air too thick to handle. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Jane whispers, her eyes darting down to Max’s lips. The brief look sends a weird feeling in Max’s lower belly and the smile fades away from her lips.
Max feels a sudden surge of hunger, a fierce desire to erase every trace of Mike’s touch from Jane’s skin and replace it with her own. She doesn’t want to wait for the bistro or for Mike to get home and ruin the moment. She wants the immediacy of this. The silence in the house, the ticking of the clock hanging on the wall, the heavy unspoken tension brewing between them.
Max slides her hand that’s resting on the nape of Jane’s neck down to the small of her back, bringing their hips together. The contact is electric, a physical confirmation that the tension in the air isn’t just imagined; it’s a living thing, pulsing between them.
Jane’s breath gets caught in her throat, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet room. Max wants to hear that delicious little breathy noise for the rest of her life.
The next few seconds are a blur—Jane moving impossibly closer, eyes locked on Max’s lips in a way that made her squirm. Her arm slips around Max’s neck in a smooth motion before their lips are connected.
It’s unclear who made the first move, but it doesn’t matter right now. All Max can focus on is the delicious slide of Jane’s lips on hers, the way her fingers tangle in her wavy red hair, the way her hips bump against Max’s everytime they move in sync.
The kiss tastes like the peppermint gum Jane had been chewing and something heavier. Max lets out a low groan, her fingers digging into the soft fabric of Jane’s t-shirt, trying to grip onto anything to ground her. This is the first time they’ve ever crossed this line and the reality of it feels like a dam breaking, releasing years of suppressed longing and stolen glances. It’s everything Max had dreamed it’d be. Even better than she had dreamed, actually.
They both get up from the couch in sync, an unspoken conversation flowing between them as they blindly stumble their way through the empty house. Max leads them to her bedroom, which is thankfully on the first floor so they can avoid a whole flight of stairs. Max doesn’t want to stray too far away from Jane now that she’s finally tasted her.
Max shoves her bedroom door open, shutting it with her foot as she walks backwards until the back of her legs hit her bed. She falls back, landing on the mattress and immediately pulling Jane down with her. The quietness makes every gasp and moan sound ten times louder.
Max’s hands wander with a newfound urgency, tracing the slope of Jane’s shoulder and the curve of her waist with gentle but searching hands. She feels Jane shudder under the touches, feeling the way she clings to Max as if she were the only solid thing in this moment. Max clings back.
For Jane, this isn’t just a kiss, Max knows. It’s a liberation. Every time Mike has dimmed her light or corrected her tone, it left a bruise on her spirit that only Max knew how to soothe.
Now, as Max’s lips follow the sensitive line of her throat, those bruises are slowly fading, being replaced by a more gentle and loving kind of heat.
“You’re so, so gorgeous.” Max whispers against the side of her neck, her voice thick with passion. “God, Jane, you have no idea.”
Jane tries to laugh, but it comes out as a breathy sigh. “I think I have an idea,” Max watches her throat move as she swallows loudly. “He’s.. going to be gone a while, I’m sure. Traffic on Main is a nightmare—“
Max didn’t need to hear anymore, she didn’t need a second invitation. She quickly switches their position, flipping them over so Jane is beneath her, and the sight makes Max lose her train of thought.
Jane stares up at her with her sweet, big brown eyes, her long brown hair sprawled across the pillows, her eyebrows so expressive, and the look on her face is so open and trusting. Max wishes she could see this view all day, everyday.
Max’s hands slide under the hem of Jane's oversized t-shirt. The fabric is thin, soft from too many washes, and as Max’s palms meet the warm skin of Jane’s waist, she feels her arch into the touch, a low moan escaping her lips. The contrast is intoxicating—the forbiddenness of the act, the ticking clock of the time until they need to be at the Bistro, and the sheer, tactile reality of Jane actually wanting her back.
Max’s lips find the hollow of Jane’s collarbone, her breath hot against the already warm skin. She feels fingers tangle in her hair, pulling her closer.
For years, Max has watched Jane play the role of the supportive, quiet girlfriend, a shadow that existed only to highlight Mike's brilliance. But here, in the dim light of Max’s bedroom, Jane is vibrant. She’s loud in her silence, her movements demanding and certain.
”Is this okay?” Max asks quietly as she slowly lifts Jane’s shirt over her head, eyeing her expectantly.
“More than okay.” Jane’s eyes flutter shut, helping Max get her shirt off, tossing it somewhere on the floor.
In the soft lighting of the bedroom, Jane’s skin looks paler and soft. It feels soft, too. She looks fragile, but there’s a strength to her grip as she holds onto Max’s upper arms, like if she let go even the slightest they would both disappear.
Max traces the lines of her ribs, feeling the way her stomach trembles under her soft touch. She doesn’t want to rush things, because this is sacred. This is something special, something Max has been dreaming of for far too long.
She wants to memorize every curve and every shudder, to erase the memory of Mike’s selfish grip by replacing it with a touch that actually cared for the girl it touched.
Max’s eyes trace the fabric of Jane’s black bra, the way it pushes her breasts up the slighest bit, the way she could easily unclasp it and see how beautiful they are.
She doesn’t do that just yet, instead just leaning down to press a kiss to the soft swell of her breast, relishing in the soft gasp it entices from Jane’s lips. The sound sends a flutter through her stomach, making the desire coursing through her veins ten times stronger.
Jane’s legs wrap around Max’s waist, pulling her closer so her hips are pressed against her own, the fabric of both of their pants the only thing between them. Max rolls her hips a little bit—the mattress creaking underneath them from their combined weight—but it doesn’t give them the friction that they both desperately need.
Max’s hands are uncoordinated and frantic, as if she were getting her hands on something that she has finally been allowed to touch after so long, which is exactly what is happening right now.
She traces the curve of Jane’s hip, her palm finding the dip of her waist, and for a moment, the world outside the bedroom ceased to exist. There was no blazing heat, no bistro to be at, and certainly no Mike. The only thing that matters is the sensation of skin against skin and the sound of Jane’s breathing, which has evolved from a series of sharp gasps and sighs into a low, rhythmic humming that vibrates against Max's own chest.
Jane’s hands are anything but idle. They move similarly to Max’s; fast and searching, exploring her body for the first time. Her touch is tentative at first, but it grows bolder within seconds. It’s exhilarating.
When Jane’s fingertips brush the waistband of Max’s jeans, she feels a jolt of yearning so intense that it almost knocks the breath out of her. Max’s arms are a little shaky as she holds herself up above Jane, her eyes following every movement of Jane’s hands.
“I’ve wanted this,” Max lets out a breath she’s been holding in. “For so long. Since before you even met Mike. Way before that.”
Jane smiles up at her, a small, private thing, the corners of her lips slowly lifting. “Really? That long?”
Max tries to nod, but she’s so out of it already that she can’t tell if she’s actually moving. “Yeah. I—“ Max’s eyes dart down to Jane’s nimble fingers popping the button on her jeans. “Maybe even longer than that.”
Jane hums and her leg slides higher up Max’s thigh, the contact making Max dizzy with desire. “Don’t stop. Please.”
Max didn’t need to be told twice. She slides her hands down, her own fingers popping the button of Jane’s jeans, the fabric feeling like a wall between them and the heat they both craved. She pushes the denim down Jane’s legs with one hand all while keeping focus on the soft plushness of Jane’s lips and the pressure of her fingers on Max’s lower back.
Wetting her bottom lip, Max slowly leans down and captures Jane’s own lips in a searing kiss. She can taste the desperation and the utter need as Jane sighs into her mouth, hands touching any place they can reach.
The room is bright, so Max can see everything. Sunrays beam through the window and coat the room in blazing sunlight, the atmosphere electric. Max feels every inhale and exhale from Jane as a command. She shifts her weight after she throws the jeans on the floor, her hand sliding beneath the waistband of Jane’s purple cotton underwear, her fingers grazing the damp, warm skin.
Jane lets out a sharp, rhythmic gasp, her hips arching instinctively toward the touch. The sound is a disclosure, a confirmation that Jane isn’t just accepting this—she’s starving for it, just like Max is.
“You’re shaking.” Max points out softly, her voice a low hum in the quiet of the room.
”I didn’t know it would feel like this. This good.” Jane blinks up at Max, her nails digging into the skin of her shoulder. “It feels… different with a girl. Everything feels louder. I didn’t—“ Her sentence is cut off as she bites her lip to stifle a moan.
Max fights back a smile as she watches Jane’s facial expressions intently. “I know.” She whispers. “Louder is better, though.”
Max readjusts her weight, her hand moving with a surge of confidence, tracing the sensitive part of Jane’s clit.
Jane’s response is a quick, jagged intake of breath that sounds like a physical break. She grips onto to Max’s shoulders, her body trembling with a sense of anticipation. Max holds her close as she continues touching her softly. She wants Jane to know that here, in the sanctuary of Max’s bedroom, Jane is safe. Loved. Cherished. Worshipped.
Max dips her head, her lips finding the spot where Jane’s neck meets her shoulder, tasting the salt of her skin mixed with something surprisingly sweet. She sucks at the spot before her teeth nip at it, which is sure to leave a mark. Oops.
She can feels Jane’s heart hammering against her own chest, a frantic, wild rhythm that’s in sync with Max’s own heartbeat. The urgency between them has shifted from a desperate hunger to something more unhurried and deel, a slow exploration that makes the time ticking by feel distant and irrelevant.
“Max.” Jane whimpers, a high pitched sound that makes Max throb beneath her jeans that were still on. She arches her back, her hips rolling against Max’s hand, chasing the friction.
Her name on Jane’s lips—not as a greeting or a friendly acknowledgment like usual, but as a needy plea—sends a wave of possessiveness through Max. She wants to give Jane everything and more, she wants to show her exactly how much she’s been missing out on, how much of her has been ignored by a boy who didn't even deserve to breathe the same air as her.
Everything fades away in Max’s mind. No more bistro, no RC car batteries, and no time limit. There’s only the friction of skin and the loud sounds of their erratic breathing.
Max’s fingers move with a slow, measured precision, mirroring the way she had handled the Walkman—patient, attentive, focused on the smallest, most delicate needs. She watches Jane’s face, mesmerized by the way her features tighten and then melt, the way her lips part to let out sounds that are so obscene and outright filthy. It’s like a wet dream come true.
She shifts her focus, her lips trailing a path of heat from Jane’s jaw down to the valley of her breasts, her tongue tracing the shivering line of her ribs as she pulls down her panties in the process. She wants to map every single inch of Jane, to memorize the topography of her pleasure and learn the things that make her moan and squirm.
”Oh—“ Jane’s voice breaks, her eyes screwing shut. Max’s eyes flicker up to her face just in time to watch her face screw up in ecstasy. That expression alone could make Max come on the spot if she watches it for too long. “Max, please.” She breathes out, her heels digging into the mattress.
She hums against Jane’s skin, the vibrations of the noise reverberating back onto her own lips. She kisses her way down until she’s eye level with Jane’s wet pussy. It makes Max’s mouth water as her eyes study it. It’s pretty and oh, so wet with slick, begging to be taken care of.
Max spreads Jane’s legs a little wider, the scent of her arousal burning Max’s nose in the best way possible. She parts her lips to ask her if this is okay, but Jane beats her to it.
”Please.” She whines, her fingers tangling in Max’s hair before pushing her head closer to her waiting pussy. And that’s really all Max needs to hear.
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, her thumbs digging into the underside of Jane’s thighs. When she leans in to break the distance between Jane and her mouth, the world narrows down to the heat and the scent of her.
The first tentative lick is magical, sending sparks up Max’s spine. Jane tastes sweet and a tinge of metallic, a complex rhythm that Max navigates with a slow, focused curiosity.
She uses her tongue to trace the edges of her, lingering on the most sensitive areas that make Jane keen, savoring the way her breathing gets faster and louder and the way her hips rise to meet her.
Jane’s fingers tighten in Max’s hair, yanking her head forward and urging her for more, more, more. Each moan that leaves Jane’s mouth is a signal to Max, a guide that she follows with a devoted intensity. She could definitely get used to this.
She changes her angle, deepening the pressure and the pace, focusing on the way the muscles in Jane’s thighs tighten around her head. Each flick and swirl of Max’s tongue drives Jane higher and higher until she’s trembling everywhere.
“F—Fuck,” Jane gasps, a moan slipping out halfway. Max can tell she’s close by the way she tenses up, her legs shaking beneath Max’s hands that are holding onto her thighs. “Max. Max, I’m.. I’m close.” She warns.
Max sucks on her clit for a second longer before pulling away, gasping for a breath. She doesn’t stop, though. She replaces her mouth with her fingers, pushing into her in a quick motion, feeling her velvety walls.
“Oh my God,” Jane throws her head back, arching her back in a way that looks like it hurts. “Max.” She cries out as she releases, painting Max’s fingers in come.
There’s a pause where Max just stares, mesmerized. Her mouth waters all over again and her eyes dart up to meet Jane’s eyes, which are now open and staring down at Max.
”Holy shit.” Jane breathes out, a lazy smile grazing her lips. Max huffs out a laugh.
”Yeah. Holy shit.” She repeats, pulling her fingers out slowly. “Was it good?”
Jane scoffs at that, stretching out her legs. “Obviously. It was more than good.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear clumsily. “That was, like… I’ve never felt that before.”
Max quirks an eyebrow at her last comment, her mouth falling open in disbelief. Her fingers are still coated in slick come, but she focuses on the glow on Jane’s face. “Seriously? Never?”
Jane shakes her head, which makes Max feel something weird stir inside her. Something primal and something similar to.. pride?
“No. That was the first time it’s been that good.” She swallows thickly, the sound loud in this silent room. “Well, Mike is my first boyfriend, so—“
”Ex-boyfriend.” Max corrects, watching Jane furrow her eyebrows in confusion. She moves up Jane’s body so they’re eye to eye. “You’re gonna break up with him, right?” Max waits a second. “Tell me you’re going to break up with him.”
Jane’s eyes dart all over her face, the frown in between her brows softening. “I—“ She blows out a slow breath. “I guess. But.. I’m not really the best with confrontation, you know that.”
Max doesn’t respond to that, too focused on the flush of Jane’s cheeks, the dark pink a stark contrast to her pale skin.
She takes a deep breath, her attention now solely focused on how her middle finger and ring finger are coated in Jane’s come. It’s not a pleasant sensation, that’s for sure—the cool air in the room blowing on the wetness and sending a shiver wracking through Max’s body.
She doesn’t waste a second, sticking the fingers in her mouth and sucking the slick off of the digits, keeping eye contact with Jane the entire time. Max groans around her own fingers as she tastes the sweetness all over again.
”Woah,” Jane whispers, her pupils blown and focused entirely on the drag of Max’s lips as she pulls her fingers out of her mouth. “That was hot.”
A smile tugs at Max’s lips and she surgers forward to connect their lips in a slow kiss.
Max slides her tongue through Jane’s lips so she can taste herself on Max’s tongue. They kiss lazily, slow and sticky, time passing by like syrup. It’s sweet and meaningful and Max wants to experience this all the time, not just right now. She wants this to be an everyday thing. She wants Jane to be hers.
Max makes a move to press kisses to the column of Jane’s neck, but she’s interrupted by a shove at her shoulder, pushing her off.
“Wait, Shh,” Jane whispers, her eyes wide and full of panic, pushing Max again so she can sit up, the peak of her release quickly ebbing. “Did you hear that?”
Max straightens up as soon as Jane does, her eyebrows furrowed. “Hear what?” Max asks, not bothering to mimick Jane’s tone.
Jane doesn’t reply, holding a finger up as if to silently tell Max to shut up. Max strains her ears, the silence of the bedroom now feeling precarious. In the distance, there’s a muffled bang of a car door slamming shut, the noise echoing through the house. Then came the sound of the screen door rattling on its hinges—the same metallic clatter that had signaled Mike’s departure earlier.
The air in the room shifts almost instantly. The golden, hazy bubble of their intimacy shattered by the threat of being caught. Max feels a sudden, sharp spike of anxiety shoot through her, but it’s overpowered by a wave of protectiveness. She looks over at Jane, whose eyes are wide, her pupils dilated, her expression a mixture of lingering pleasure and raw panic.
”He’s back early.” Jane sighs out, sounding more disappointed than panicked, the horror that is taking over her features not visible in her tone.
They move quickly, pulling underwear and pants back up, Jane pulling her shirt over her head. Max smooths her hair down, it’s probably a mess from Jane’s fingers.
“They were out of batteries.” Mike announces, his voice booming from the living room, sounding far too loud in the sudden stillness of the house. “Ridiculous. Complete waste of time. Jane? You still here?”
The sound of his footsteps, heavy and confident and claiming the space, echoed down the hallway. Max feels a jolt of adrenaline, a sick and twisted feeling rushing through her. Let him find us like this. I want him to find out.
She watches Jane, who is still half-dazed, her skin flushed a deep, shimmering pink that still has not faded. As much as Max wants the satisfaction of getting caught, the sight of her, vulnerable and opened up, makes the thought of Mike walking through the door feel like a violation of something sacred.
”Just— Give me a second!” Jane calls out, her voice shaky as she scrambles to get up, the sheets twisting around her legs.
Max doesn’t panic, she just stands up in a more calm manner compared to Jane, scanning the room for any obvious giveaway. The bed is a rumpled mess, the covers tossed aside, the pillows out of their usual spots near the headboard, the air still thick with the scent of their shared heat and the floral tang of Jane’s perfume. It’s pretty fucking obvious. Max has a weird urge to get her camera and take a picture of this. Next time, she thinks to herself.
Her eyes quickly dart over to the window. With the agility of someone who spends her weekends skating the concrete bowls of the local park, she lunges toward it. She doesn’t actually go out—there was no time for an escape like that—but she yanks the heavy curtains shut and flips the light switch, plunging the room into a dim, amber haze that masks the disarray of the sheets. Hopefully that was enough.
“Jane? What’s taking so long?” Mike’s voice is closer now, sounding irritated, the kind of annoyance that came from a failed errand and a perceived lack of attention.
Max catches Jane’s eyes. The girl is breathless, her chest still heaving, her expression a dizzying mix of fear and a secret, glowing triumph. In that split second, Max closes the distance and presses a final, firm miss to the corner of Jane’s mouth, a promise that this wasn’t a one-time occurrence. A promise that this was something Max wanted permanently, not temporarily.
The door swung open, letting in a flood of harsh light from the hallway that sliced across the room and disturbed the darkness Max had tried to use to cover up the mess. Mike stepped in, his presence immediately filling the space, reeking of pure disappointment. He doesn’t look at the room yet, he looks at Jane, who is sitting on the edge of the bed with Max standing off to the side.
"What happened in here?" Mike asks suspiciously, his eyes narrowing as he scans the room. He doesn’t spare Max a glance, but he notices the oppressive dimness and the way Jane seems to be vibrating with a nervous energy that he can’t quite understand. He steps further into the room, his nose wrinkling. "What’s that smell? It smells like...”
Jane stiffens, her voice coming out a pitch too high as she interrupts Mike’s train of thought before he can say anything else. "I just— I felt a bit dizzy. I was just laying down while we waited for you.”
Mike studies her for another moment, a beat of silence lingering in the air. It’s like he brings a certain tension with him everywhere he goes, suffocating every room he’s present in.
“Okay…” He drawls, pressing his lips together like he doesn’t believe her. Jane is really not the best liar. “So, are we going or what?” He finally looks at Max, his eyebrows raised expectantly.
Max doesn’t hold eye contact with Mike for long, shifting her gaze to Jane, who has reverted to pick at the comforter she’s sitting on.
“Yeah.” Max answers for Jane, nodding a few times. She stuffs her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, turning her attention back onto Mike. “Actually, we’re gonna go to the bistro, but you,” A pause. “You can go eat at your precious barbecue place.”
Mike’s brows pinch together as he stares at Max, shifting his weight onto his left foot. “What? Why’re you.. I thought we were all going to the bistro together. That was the plan, no?”
”Yeah, that was the plan.” Max shrugs her shoulders, letting them stay up for a moment before they fall back down with a sigh. “Jane.” She waits until she looks up and meets Max’s gaze.
Max nods once, urging her to just do it.
“I—” Jane’s mouth falls open hesitantly, like she’s about to protest, but Mike interrupts. Per usual.
”What is going on?” He shakes his head, taking another step into the room, his eyes locked on Jane. “I’m confused.”
Max rolls her eyes, her head falling back as she stares up at the ceiling. “Oh my God,” She mumbles under her breath before lifting her head back up. “Jane. You don’t have to pretend anymore. It’s getting old.” She gives Jane a look.
She looks between Max and Mike, a frown between her brows that Max desperately wants to smooth out with her thumb. She looks torn, but Max can tell she’s exhausted from pretending.
”Just say it.” Max prompts. “Right now. Tell him you’re done.”
The silence that follows is a physical thing, stretching until the air feels brittle. Jane looks at Mike, really looks at him, and sees a man who is not something good for her anymore. A man who has taken from her over and over again until there was nothing left for her to give. It’s a hard pill to swallow, especially after all these years, but she knows this is the right thing to do. She knows Max is right.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mike asks, his voice dropping an octave. He looks from Jane’s face to Max, his eyes searching like he’s looking for the punchline to a joke he isn’t in on.
Jane looks to Max for help, but she just nods her head in a motivating way, urging her to do what she needs to do.
With a nod to herself and a big deep breath, Jane turns back to Mike, swallowing her nerves down. This is what needs to happen. This is something that needed to happen ages ago. It’s long overdue.
”It means I’m done, Mike.” Jane speaks confidently, a feeling she definitely did not have right now, but she used it anyways. “I’m tired of it, of everything. And—I’m just over it.”
Mike scoffs, taking a step towards Jane, who just steps back. “Jane, come on.”
She shakes her head. “I’ve realized that.. there is someone out there for me who knows me, really knows me, and sees me for who I actually am, not for who they want me to be.” She doesn’t glance over, she doesn’t need to, Max knows who she’s talking about. It makes her smile to herself.
Mike stares at her in shock, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly like a fish out of water. “You’re really doing this? Right now? We’re—“ His face scrunches up as the words die in his throat.
“Yes.” Jane nods, crossing her arms in a way that allowed her to hug herself. “I should’ve done this a long time ago. But I didn’t, so I’m doing it now.”
Mike’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, a look of betrayal glimmering in his eyes. Whatever pity game he was trying to play didn’t affect Jane, she stood her ground.
“You’re—“ Mike pointed at her as he backed up towards the door. “Wow. I’m.. Okay.” He scoffs again and storms out of the room. Again, the door slams with a loud thud, signaling Mike’s retreat.
There’s a long stretch of stillness after that, one that makes Max’s ears ring with how silent it was. She doesn’t let the moment linger on the wreckage, though. As soon as Mike’s engine comes to life, she’s in Jane’s space. She grabs her hand, simply just holding it, her thumb tracing the back of Jane's knuckles in a slow, grounding rhythm.
”You okay?” Max asks quietly, her eyes locked on Jane’s profile, her voice stripped of any and all harshness she had used directed towards Mike.
Jane lets out a long, shuddering exhale, the tension leaving her shoulders in a visible wave. “Yeah. I’m okay.” She nods. “More than okay, actually.”
They eat at the bistro, just the two of them. They talk, they laugh, they stare in eachother’s eyes and kick one another’s foot under the table. It’s nice and sweet and it’s something Max wants to do everyday. She wants to take Jane on dates like this, actual dates. That thought alone makes her feel all giddy inside, and when she brings it up to Jane over their food, she reacts the same way.
After eating, they stopped at a record store, one that Jane had insisted they go to. Max didn't steer her toward the "correct" genres; she stood beside her, listening intently as Jane explained the emotional pull of a particular synth-pop B-side, her eyes focused entirely on Jane's face and the cute way she explained things.
When they eventually returned to Max’s house—this time with no one threatening to return early—Max didn't rush her. They spent an hour just talking, something they’ve always been good at. She asked Jane about any recent paintings she’s done and the crafts she’s been talking about doing, listening with a hunger that makes Jane feel like she’s the only person in the world. It’s a nice feeling, a feeling that she’s been deprived of for so long.
They end up back in Max’s bed, but the frantic, stolen energy of the afternoon has evolved into something slower and more deliberate. This time there’s no time limit, no heavy footsteps in the hallway, and no threat of interruption. Max moves with a patient, exploratory grace, her hands tracing JaneMs skin as if she were discovering a masterpiece for the first time all over again.
She focuses on the small things; the way Jane’s breath hitches when Max kisses the hollow of her throat, the way her toes curl when Max’s fingers graze the inside of her thigh. All the things Max wants to spend the rest of her life learning.
As the hours bleed into a hazy, moonlit twilight, the atmosphere in the room shifts from the electric intensity of desire to a profound, humming intimacy. They lay together in silence, the sheets a tangled mess around their ankles, their breathing synchronized in the quiet of the night.
Max keeps her sleepy gaze on Jane, whose eyes twinkle in the light of the moonshine coming through the window next to Max’s bed. It’s a beautiful thing and Max can’t help but just look. She watches until Jane’s eyes get heavier and heavier before they flutter shut, exhausted and too tired to keep them open.
And even after that, Max continues to watch. Jane is so beautiful, and she hopes she knows that. She peppers featherlight kisses to her face, pressing the words that Max has been holding in into her skin.
I love you. You’re beautiful. I love you so much. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Please let me. I adore you. I love you. I love you. I love you.