Her foot shakes against the couch cushion. A pillow falls to the floor as she shifts suddenly drawing the anxious foot under her body. Unconsciously her gaze drifts back towards the kitchen and her mind goes even further, resting on the object on the counter. The very thing she is trying to avoid.
Sighing she grabs for the remote and switches on the television, another futile attempt to distract herself. As E!News blares to life she curses her roommates affinity for all things celebrity. She hesitates both hoping to see his face and wishing to avoid it a little longer.
She turns the television back off and falls back into the couch. This marks the first time since she was rehired that she hasn’t seen Jonah in more than two days. But then New York happened.
If it had just been the kiss, the single toe curling kiss, then maybe she could let it pass as a moment of weakness, a simple unavoidable curiosity. But, it wasn’t just the kiss. There were other kisses. So many in those few short days that she doesn’t think she could document them all. Add to that the innumerable brushes of his fingers against the back of her neck, warm breaths against her cheek. But something was seriously lacking from all that. Something that would change her very anxiety at that moment. Words.
Nothing was explained, or even voiced. It was unspoken that if either wanted to kiss the other they would, that if the need was felt to grasp a hand or lean protectively that it was allowed. But all talk remained centered on safe things. The weather, the trip and mostly what Jonah was doing.
It was easy in those moments for her to pretend that they were a small family that there was no guilt involved in what they were doing. But in the back of her mind there was always Kate. And not Kate now. Not glamorous breaking star Kate, but gawky teenage Kate. The one that Mae remembered from school and the one that seemed justified in the pained look in her eyes.
Mae presses the heels of her hands into her eyes trying to erase the persistent image. The lesser of the demons wins out and she bursts from the living room into the kitchen. Her hands grip the counter on either side of the offending object and she just stares at the cover.
She tells herself that it’s only Star magazine and so far from journalistic truth that most people disregard it completely. But a whole different portion of the population will see it in the aisle at the grocery store and lining newsstands and that makes her feel just a little violated.
You can’t even really see her in the picture. The focus in obviously Justin and his body blocks most of hers, but his hand is reached back grasping hers as the other guides the stroller. They didn’t ever get a shot of Jonah, thank God. But the headline is big and cold and names her as Justin’s new love interest. And more than being wrong or scaring her, it makes her wonder.
With a quick movement of her hand the counter is clear and the magazine is in the trash. She leans forward on the counter and wishes there were someone she wanted to call. There are people she could call, but only one she really wants to.
Her grandmother tops her list of obvious people to call, but she hasn’t been liberal enough with information on the situation for her to really be able to give advice. A close second is Trace. Trace. She reaches for her phone and flips it over in her hands a few times toying with the idea in her mind. She would call him if it were anyone else. That only leaves the source. The one person who could clear the fog in her mind and yet the last on her list.
The glass in the windows rattles as the thunder announces the start of a storm. The noise pushes her into action. She grasps for her keys on the table and heads towards the front door before common sense can tell her not to. The sky is grey and the lighting suits her mood perfectly. She can taste the rain in the air and she silently wishes for a little of its cleansing power to work its magic on her.
Her feet barely seem to touch the stairs as she rushes down them towards her car, managing to slide into the driver’s seat just as the first few drops splatter on her windshield. The freeway is a blur through her water streaked windshield and traffic shudders along at a painfully slow pace. Rush hour. There should have been enough foresight involved to notice that it was five o’clock, but foresight has nothing to do with what she is currently doing.
She rests her chin on top of the steering wheel and loses her thoughts in the swishing of the wipers. Instantly the memory of the feel of Justin’s lips on hers makes the hair on her arms stand on end.
How could she not realize she was this far into it until she was lost? Somehow in her expertise of denial and optimism she forced all thoughts of Justin as anything more than a friendly employer to the back of her mind and heart until he reached inside of her and plastered them on her sleeve. She wants to be angry at him for doing this without a sound. For successfully transforming her from a professional into a gooey mess like it was his profession.
A small smirk covers her face at the thought. It is his job of sorts. She was never into boy bands in her teens, being too involved in mourning the fact that she was born after Lennon’s death, but for the first time she relates to those screaming girls that filled arena’s in the 90’s, hell who still fill them today.
Horns blare behind her and she is made suddenly aware of the gap between her and the car in front of her. A red car jerks past her and she can see the prominent middle finger through the streaked windows.
She weaves through the remaining traffic letting her fingers tap on the steering wheel to a beat created by the rain on the roof.
“Come again another day….”
The words come out in a singsong whisper, but the familiar pleasure brings a little ease to her journey. She loses herself in a self made concoction of the nursery rhyme and before she has time to slow it, she’s parked in the familiar space that seems to await her car.
She forces a deep breath into her lungs before open the car door. Her hands shield her head futiely as she rushes towards the door. Her finger presses the bell as she shakes the droplets from her body. Another burst of thunder tears through her silence and she pulls herself closer to the door and waits.
With every moment she can feel the beat of her heart grow more forceful til she feels like it might burst from her chest. And then the door opens and she can feel it pause. Everything pause as she waits to see who is on the other side.
“Good Lord Mae!”
She doesn’t have time to reply before he’s pulled her inside. His hands instinctively rub up and down her arms.
“Why the hell didn’t you just come in?” he asks. It takes a long moment before she raises her eyes to meet his, a little nervous to what she might find.
Care.
That’s what she sees in her eyes. That simple, complete emotion drives her hands to grasp his face and bring it to her own.
She can feel the shock in his face even though her eyes are closed to it. It takes a few moment of gentle prodding by her lips before the tension leaves his cheeks and he relaxes against her. His hand slides around her waist and pulls her softly towards him. Her hands release his face only to grip in his shirt, determined to keep him and this feeling close.
He pulls back slightly, eyes still closed and licks his lips slowly.
“Hi,” he breathes, his breath still close to her own mouth she drinks it in. She bumps his nose with her own and smiles.
“Hey.”
He keeps his eyes shut and presses a few more kisses along her mouth, intentionally missing. The smile can’t be kept off her face. Why did she think this was a bad idea?
Ceramic shatters on the floor and they jump slightly apart.
“Holy shit.”
They both open their eyes and look towards the new person in the entry. Trace’s gaze keeps shifting back and forth between the pair. She can’t read his eyes, she doesn’t know them well enough.
“You have to be fucking kidding me. This is why you’ve been tiptoeing around me?”
Mae doesn’t answer. She knows the question isn’t meant for her. Instead she lets her eyes wander over towards the questioned. Justin’s brow is furrowed and he opens his mouth to answer, his hands rising in defense, but Trace holds up a hand.
“Dude. I know that you may transcend a lot of rules being whoever the hell it is you think you’ve become, but some things you just don’t, shit, you just don’t do,” Trace shakes his head before making an exit.
Justin offers her a lingering glance before he follows the echo of the slamming door. Mae lets her coat slide off her shoulders and follows the sound of the TV to where she assuming the only remaining man of the house is.
She finds Jonah asleep on a blanket in the den, his knees tucked under his body, forcing his diapered butt into the air. Mae smiles and slides down on the floor next to him, laying an arm carefully over the peaceful form. The rain outside captures her attention and she watches the droplets trail down the windows colliding in their paths and creating beauty in their natural chaos.
She had almost forced down the image of teenage Kate, but now Trace has joined her. A small army of people to look down upon the feelings that she is still fighting to understand, much less name. There should be more guilt, more desire to do the right thing by these bystanders, but she can’t help but want to chase the feeling, grasp it tight and fight like hell against anyone trying to take it away.
If he hadn’t sighed Mae would have never known that he was back. The sudden expelled breath breaks her stare on the windows. She shifts slightly to face him, but remains curled around Jonah.
“I knew he had a thing for you. He never told me outright, but I knew. I even gave him hell about it a few times. I am a shitty shitty friend,” Justin mumbles. Mae keeps quiet and watches him rub his hands over his now weary eyes. But it’s still there. What she saw at the door is till peaking out from behind the weight of his friend. His eyes meet her and suddenly he slides off the couch and makes his way to the pair on the floor.
He wraps his body around the other side of Jonah, tangling his legs with hers in the process and linking his hand through hers. They stare at each other over the baby for a long time. Mae aches for words to match the things his silence is saying.
“Why can’t it just be this all the time?” Justin asks.
“What?” The reply is soft. She doesn’t want to scare the illusive words away.
“Just us. Just me and Jonah and you. This makes sense. This makes me feel safe,” he answers. Mae nods her agreement although she’s not really sure what he is talking about.
“It makes sense?” she urges. He nods and the movement carries through their attached limbs to her.
“To have the two people I care most about in the world with me. What is confusing about that?”
Any doubt or guilt will have to wait because for this one moment this is her life. These two men are her life and she wouldn’t want it any other way. Even the rain is perfect in this moment.
Author's Chapter Notes:
*hides face* i know. its been WAY too long, but its here and i hope to be better. the reviews have been beyond amazing, thank you SO much!
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