Picking Up the Pieces (19 page)

But this is Max we’re talking about here.
I tried to envision my life without him in it and I just couldn’t. He was like a dejected little kitten who lived in the alleyway behind your house. Once you fed him and showed him a little kindness, he laid claim to you, whether you wanted him to or not. And while being Max’s wasn’t as important to me as being Adam’s, it was still something I couldn’t just throw away.
Could I?

This shit was like a bad soap opera.
I needed to stop harping about it and do something productive with my time. But as I pulled the covers over my head and drifted off to sleep, I decided that being productive could wait until the next day.

Though I didn’t expect the next day to begin with my cell phone blaring at thr
ee in the morning. The caustic ring echoed through my quiet bedroom and jolted me awake. I fumbled for my phone and glanced at the name on the caller ID.
Max Samson.

“Someone had better be dead.
Preferably you,” I grumbled into the phone.

“Well look who finally decided to talk to me
,” Max slurred slightly.

“Are you seriously drunk dialing me right now?”
I was suddenly wide awake and completely exasperated.

“Ummm, no?”

“Max, what the hell? Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Late enough for all the bars to be closed,” he quipped, sounding quite pleased with his answer.

“Where are you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Max,” I warned.

“Ok
ay okay, don’t get your titties in a twist. I’m at Mulvaney’s.”

“Isn’t that in West Chester?” My voice was getting louder as my irritation grew exponentially with every passing second.

“Aren’t you quite the little tour guide.
How did you know that?”

“Because I went there . . . ," I started to explain, before realizing he was getting me off track. "Does it really fucking matter? How did you get there.
Or, more importantly, how are you getting home?”

“I’m not sure what matters to you anymore,” he said sadly.

My heart dropped a bit at his words and I realized that, no matter what decisions I made concerning Max and Adam, I’d be hurting someone.
Well, . . . shit.
I took a deep breath and calmed down before I spoke again. “Max, how are you getting home?”

His voice was brighter when he replied. “Well, it just so happens that I have this coupon. . .”

Goddammit. I knew those coupons were a bad idea.
I sighed heavily. “I’ll be there in forty minutes. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Thanks, doll,” he said before the call disconnected.

And even though I knew he was drunk and would probably never remember most of our conversation, I couldn't help feeling a little thrilled when he called me “doll.”

***

After throwing on a sweatshirt and jeans, I drove to West Chester like a bat out of hell.
Thirty-five minutes later, I pulled up in front of Mulvaney’s to see Max half-sitting, half-lying on a bench out front of the bar. I beeped my horn at him and his eyes flickered open. He registered me and then got up slowly and staggered toward my car.

“You look like shit,” I said as I pulled away from the sidewalk.

He chuckled, “Nice to see you too.”

“So what happened?
Did your friends ditch you or did you ditch them?”

“You know, I’m really not sure.”

I shook my head, but let it go.

Max leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
I thought he had fallen asleep when he spoke again, never opening his eyes. “So, you going to tell me why you didn’t call or text me back?”

“Are you even going to remember this conversation tomorrow?”

“Only one way to find out.” He had swung his head toward me, his eyes looking directly at me.

“Adam doesn’t want me to see you anymore.”
I figured the best way to tell him this news was to treat it like removing a band aid. It was best to just rip the sucker off.

Max straightened up in his seat.
“And you agreed to that?” His voice was emotionless, which betrayed just how hurt he really was. Max only bothered to cover up the feelings that affected him the deepest.

“No.”

Even from my periphery, I could tell he was confused. “Then, I guess that brings us back to my original question. Why haven’t I heard from you?”

“I just . . . need time to get my head on straight.
I feel like I’m starring in my own version of
Groundhog Day
. And mine isn’t nearly as funny as Bill Murray’s.”

Max didn’t respond and we drove the rest of the way to his house in silence.
I was surprised by his lack of a response. I wasn’t sure what I had expected him to say, but I sure as hell had expected
something.

A short time later, I pulled into his driveway. Max started unbuckling his seat belt before I even had the car in park, but he fumbled with the door handle.

“You need help getting inside?”

“No, I got it,” he replied gruffly as he opened the door only to have it immediately swing back closed.

“Sure ya do,” I grumbled as I got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side.
Pulling the door open wide, I reached down to hook my arm under Max’s and began to hoist him up.
God, he’s a heavy son of a bitch.

He leaned back against the rear door, while I closed his.
But before I could turn back toward him, I felt his hand roughly grip my bicep, twirling me around and pressing my back against the door I had just closed. He then moved both hands to grip the car behind me, caging me in.

I almost called him out on his rejuvenated sense of coordination but decided to let it go.
My skin prickled at his proximity, and memories of what it felt like to have his body pressed against mine flooded my brain. But these were the wrong thoughts to be having right now.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I spat.

He gazed at me for a long time, not saying a single word. Eventually, my body started to relax from the lack of conflict, and he noticed it immediately. “I’m reminding you,” he finally said.

“Reminding me of what?”
I tried to pack my voice with annoyance, but I couldn’t hide the genuine curiosity that resided there.

“What it feels like.
What
we
feel like.”

“
We
don’t
feel
like
anything,
Max. We’re just friends. And I’m not even so sure we’re that.”

He moved one hand to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear.
The feel of his icy hand reminded me that it was freezing out, but I didn’t feel cold. I wasn’t sure what I felt.

He replaced his hand on the car.
“You’re right, Lily. We’re not friends. We’ll
never
be friends. Because, deep down, you know we’re so much more.” He leaned in, his lips on a crash course toward
mine.

And I wanted it.
I wanted his lips on mine so badly, I was nearly consumed by the thought. Until I remembered that this was how Max operated. He took. Whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. He had taken my common sense last year, he had taken Adam, he had taken every ounce of friendship I had offered him, and now he was trying to take even more. And I may not have had such a problem with that had it not been for the fact that Max never
gave
anything in return.

So, just as his lips were about to connect with mine, I turned my head away from him.
The realization of just how one-sided our friendship was filled me with such unfathomable rage, it made me shake. I had been so fucking blind. All of this time, I had been making the effort, trying to be a good friend, to help him get his life together. Then I tell him what
I
need: time. And instead of respecting that or discussing it with me like a normal person, he decides to ignore my needs and take what he wants. Again.

“I’m done with this, Max.”

He pulled back from me and hung his head. “I’m sorry, Lily. I know. We’re just friends. I’m drunk and got a little carried away. It’s fine. We’ll—”

“No, I mean I’m really done.”
I turned my head and waited for him to return my gaze. “With the friendship. With you. With all of it. I won’t risk my future on someone who clearly cares so little about me.”

His eyes narrowed and his voice was barely above a whisper.
“How can you say that?”

“Because it’s the truth.
Everything you do, you do for yourself. The rest of us are merely players in the all-consuming story that is your life. But I’m done being in your story, Max. It’s about time I started starring in my own.” With that, I pushed his arm out of my way and walked around to the driver’s side. Just as I was about to get into my car, I hazarded a look at him. He had backed away from my car, his head bowed, his hands fisted in his pockets. “Goodbye, Max.”

I jumped in my car, turned the ignition, and sped away from his house.
And even though I was determined not to look back, that was one battle I was never going to win. My eyes darted up to my rearview mirror before his house was out of sight. And there he was, still standing in his driveway just as I had left him.

And I realized why I needed this clean break from him.
He was too busy standing still, while I was desperate to move on.

Chapter 20: Max

I reached up to adjust my tie one last time before entering the reception.
A few more hours and I can get out of this thing
, I thought. I liked being in a suit about as much as my dog liked it when I’d get drunk and put him in one of my old hockey jerseys. As I strolled toward the open bar, I took in my surroundings. The ballroom was expansive with floor to ceiling arched windows along one wall. And the decor matched the feel of the historic hotel: deep gold striped wallpaper wrapped around the room, and dark wood trim accented each doorway. On the round tables sat centerpieces of red and white roses, and tasteful white Christmas lights created a soft glow in the otherwise dim room. “Who the hell has a wedding on New Year’s Eve, anyway? That dumbass ruined an awesome holiday for the rest of his life by agreeing to make it his anniversary.”

             
“No shit,” Brian laughed, before turning away for a moment to order two beers for us. “But Greg’s been a dumbass since elementary school, and Yasmine has him completely pussy-whipped." Brian paused to take a drink. "At least the worst part’s behind us though. I hate ceremonies. And the fact that it was a Catholic one didn’t help. They’re so fuckin’ long, and since I’m Jewish, I have no idea what the fuck’s even happening.”

             
“Well, I’m Catholic,” I said, “and I didn’t know what the fuck was happening either, so don’t feel too bad. Of course that could've been because I was paying more attention to the bridal party than to anything the priest was saying. I mean, did you see the tits on the maid of honor?"

             
“Did
I
see the tits on the maid of honor?” Brian raised an eyebrow in disbelief and stretched his arms out confidently as he leaned against the dark wooden bar. “Come on, Samson. This is
me
you’re talkin’ to. That’s why I love winter weddings: cold air and low cut dresses.
It’s like a Christmas miracle in my pants.” A devious smile came across his face, and I braced myself for what might come out of his mouth next. I knew that look well. “Hey, you think if I tell her I still breastfeed she’ll let me suck on those fuckin’ things?”

             
Somehow Brian always managed to cross the line I didn’t even know existed until he sprinted over it. “That’s sick. Even for you.” But I couldn’t help but laugh.

             
“What?” he shrugged. “You act like I’m the only one who says shit like that. Remember that time you asked Trevor’s older sister if you could feel her satin pajama bottoms to see how soft they were?”

             
I smiled at the memory. My first pick-up line. “Yeah, I fuckin’
remember. Because she let me do it. That was the highlight of my seventh grade year.”

             
“Well, tonight we’re gonna relive those days, my friend. Good call on the no date thing, by the way. It’s way easier to pick up chicks if you don’t bring one with you.”

             
“Can’t argue with sound logic,” I said. Even if I’d wanted to bring a date when I’d mailed in the response card over a month ago, I wouldn’t have known who to take, so I’d opted to pass on the “plus one.” My first instinct would have been to ask Lily—as friends, of course—but now I was definitely thankful I’d gone solo.
Fuck. Come to think of it, I’ve “gone solo” a lot lately.
“I definitely need to bag someone
.
I haven't gotten my dick sucked in over a month, and it’s killing me,” I said. “The only action I’ve gotten in a while is from Jill.”

“Jill?
Who’s Jill?” Brian asked intrigued.

“You know Jill,” I said, holding up my left fist.
“J.” I raised my index finger and stuck out my thumb to form the shape of the letter J. “I, L, L,” I added as I raised my three other fingers one by one.

Brian nearly spit his beer out as the meaning of my joke sunk in.
“That’s good. Never heard that one before.” Then I could practically see the light bulb go on over Brian’s head. “You’re right handed though. What the hell are you doing that with your
left
hand for?”

I shook my head and let out a subtle laugh.
“I don’t know. I do all the shit I’m not supposed to do with my left hand: drink, smoke, jerk off . . . the list is endless.”

“Interesting,” Brian replied.
“I didn’t know you still smoked.”

I rolled my eyes.
“I don’t, asshole.”

***

Dinner dragged as we were seated with some strangers: a heavier woman named Becky, who’d grown up with Yasmine, talked for an hour about how her cat was still throwing up the stuffing from a pillow he’d eaten over a week ago; a couple who didn’t speak a single word throughout dinner, even when we spoke to them; a woman in her late fifties who ate everything on her plate, including the decorative flower; and a guy Gary worked with who had just gotten married for the third time. I wondered why his wife hadn’t come with him to the wedding. But as I watched him get drunk and start dirty dancing with one of the groomsmen, my guess is that wife number three was filing for divorce at that very minute.

How the fuck did me and Brian get stuck with these losers, especially when we knew some of the other people here?
Gary would be hearing about this when he got back from his honeymoon
.
But as we downed our sixth beers and I told a few stories of some memorable games I’d played years ago, the appropriateness of our seating assignment became as clear as the thick lenses in Becky’ glasses. We were seated with these losers because, well, we were losers too.

By ten o’clock I’d had enough of
The Breakfast Club
’s ten year reunion. If the party wasn’t coming to me, I’d have to go to the party. So I stripped off my jacket, loosened my tie, and unbuttoned two of my shirt buttons. It was time to dance.

I didn’t make a habit of dancing at weddings.
I usually preferred to relax at the bar and then take off early with whoever I’d brought with me. But it was New Year’s Eve, and I was shitfaced. I sure as hell wasn’t leaving early, especially when I had no one to leave early
with
.
May as well make the most of it.

The band played a mix of classic rock, current pop, and modern country mostly, so there was something for everyone.
The alcohol coursing through my system made it impossible for me to care how I danced or who I danced
with
. And for a while, I was pretty sure I was dancing with no one at all.

Until I felt a pair of hands slip around my torso and up my chest from behind me.
I enjoyed the feeling of her fingers teasing my stomach so much that I almost didn’t turn around to face her for fear that I wouldn’t like what I saw. Luckily, when I finally did turn, a wave of relief washed over me. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-three and was come-in-your-pants gorgeous. Solid Cs, smooth porcelain skin, and the type of hips that begged to be grabbed. So I did, pulling her so that her tight abdomen was against mine and I could feel the graze of her breasts on my chest.

As she moved deliciously to the beat of the music, she ran her hands through her long copper hair, revealing the soft skin on her neck that was glistening with a hint of sweat.
My tongue swept across my lips as I imagined sucking her salty flesh. With her eyes closed, she used my body as a pole, sliding up, and then back down again until her face was in line with my crotch.
Fuck, this girl knows how to move
.

With one sharp movement, I spun her around so the crack of her ass in that tight burgundy dress pressed perfectly against my cock.
My hands moved to her stomach, rubbing along the smooth fabric until they made their way down to her thighs and back up again, where they came to rest on the side of her round ass
.
She reached around to tangle her fingers in my sweaty hair, and with every gyration, I could feel myself hardening steadily. I got lost in the feeling of the alcohol, the vibration of the music, and this chick’s body grinding against mine.

And just when I thought I couldn’t have been more right about the whole “coming in my pants” prediction, I felt another set of hands massaging their way up my back.
Oh, fuck yes!
I reached behind me to feel the mysterious body, and I liked what I felt: her toned thighs, the soft curves of her hips. She put her own hand on mine as my fingers teased the hem of her short dress, and I thought I felt her moan against my back at the touch.

In the moment, I was oblivious to the people around me as I pushed on the woman’s neck in front of me to bend her over.
I rolled my hips against her ass to create the perfect amount of friction I craved. I would have been content to do this all night: rub myself against
one
girl while another rubbed herself against
me
.

It wasn’t until Yasmine's horrified gaze locked on mine from across the room that I remembered that I was at a wedding and not in the back room at a strip club. Of course, I would have preferred the latter.
But there was no mistaking the judgment in her stare, and I couldn’t deny she’d had a right to judge. I was basically having a public threesome during the most magical day of this woman’s life, and I hadn’t even thought twice about my behavior until then.

I spun Burgundy Dress to face me and pulled her in close as I turned slightly so I could see the girl who had been behind me too.
Thank fuck.
She was just as hot as the other one. “You ladies wanna take this somewhere else?” I asked over the music, though it was more of a demand than a request. I was so fucking hard, I thought I might explode. And I was pretty sure I could get one of these chicks to at least give me a hand job in the bathroom. But convincing both of them to have a little fun would be ringing in the new year with quite a bang, so to speak. The last time I’d had a three-way was the night I’d gotten drafted to the NHL.
God, chicks’ll do anything for professional athletes.

But it occurred to me that I wasn’t one anymore.
So, when the two agreed to my proposition, I couldn’t contain my excitement. With an arm around each of their waists, I led us past my table, where I picked up my jacket and said goodbye to Brian, who could barely hold his head up enough to lick cake off his plate like a puppy. “Don’t wait up, sweetheart,” I winked as I slapped him hard on the back and then strutted past him out the ballroom doors.

I walked us briskly down a hall to our right that looked like it might have some discreet locations available.
I pulled on a few door handles, but was disappointed to find them all locked. Briefly, I thought about getting us a room, but I wasn’t sure if these girls were worth $400 a night. I silently cursed Gary for not picking a seedier neighborhood to get married in.

After trying every possible door with an urgency normally reserved for people attempting to hide from a serial killer, I finally came across an unlocked room, opened the door for the girls, and urged them inside with a playful slap on each of their asses.
Closing the door behind me, I let my back rest against it and pulled both girls toward me. My mouth found one of theirs, our tongues mingling in the darkness, while the other one bit my bicep through my shirt and fumbled with my belt. I searched clumsily for a light switch. With the door shut, I couldn’t see a thing, and I definitely wanted to witness whatever would be happening here.

At last I found the switch and flicked it on, revealing the mystery room we’d been in.
The fucking bridal suite.
Clothes were strewn across the couch to our right, and makeup and hair supplies cluttered the mirrored dresser to our left. “Why don’t you girls get on the couch,” I said. "I’ll be right over.”

Giggling, they pushed some of the clothing aside and sat side-by-side on the sofa.
“I’m Hallie,” the one in the burgundy dress said. “And this is Beth,” she said, gesturing to the blonde beside her who had already started caressing Hallie’s thigh.

I turned on a lamp on a nearby table and switched off the overhead lighting to dim the room.
The music from the reception could be heard coming through a speaker on the wall.

Thanks to Hallie, I think, my belt was already unbuckled.
So I pulled it off and let it drop to my feet. “This isn’t the first time you’ve done this, is it?” I asked. These two were way too comfortable with one another for it to have been their first time kissing each other.

Already nibbling on each other’s ears and neck, they let their tongues tangle outside their mouths for my viewing pleasure. And it made me as hard as I’d been in recent memory.
I didn’t know how I wanted to relieve the pressure I felt building inside me. My eyes went to their mouths and soft lips, the insides of their thighs as their dresses crept even higher up their legs.
God, do I love having options
.

“What makes you think that?” Beth asked in a low whisper.
I immediately wondered how her breath would feel against my eardrum as she said my name when she came.
My name.
I hadn’t told them what it was, though I was pretty sure they probably already knew.