Chapter 3

Chrissy

08:15 pm

The sound of the doorbell echoes through the house, and I hastily make my way downstairs to answer it. I know it's Max; he mentioned dropping by. As I swing open the door, I catch a glimpse of his back. He's engrossed in a phone call, oblivious to my presence. Frustration wells up within me. Can't he spare a few moments for us? He finally ends the call and steps inside, the door closing behind him. As he grabs me by the waist, I can feel his desire pressed against my cheek, and I can't deny the intense arousal it stirs in me.

"Is your mom home?" he asks, his lips feverishly kissing my neck.

"No, she won't be back until around 9," I manage to moan out between kisses, feeling myself getting lost in the passion. But amidst it all, I realize we need to address the state of our relationship, everything that's been left unsaid.

"Jeez, Max, we really need to talk," I gasp.

"Mmm," he continues to kiss my neck, his hands eagerly exploring beneath the fabric of my top, caressing my breasts. He takes one of them into his mouth, and I can't resist the pleasure that courses through me. His touch intensifies, roaming over my body, pressing me against the wall, and aligning with his undeniable erection. I know he wants more than just foreplay, but I'm not ready for that. We were supposed to have a serious conversation, but he always quiets me with a kiss. Is that enough?

He lifts me by the hips and gently places me on the couch, his lips trailing a path from my torso to my waistline, lingering on my pink panties. He attempts to remove them, but I draw him in for a kiss instead. I admit that I'm wet, but I won't let us go further than playful exploration.

"Let me fuck you, baby... I can't wait any longer," he whispers, his breath hot against my skin, resuming his passionate kisses. I gently push him away, and he looks at me with confusion in his eyes. "Why? Don't you like it?!" he asks, seemingly earnest, but his fingers continue to rub my clit, rendering me speechless. I don't even know how to stop him anymore; I'm completely consumed by the moment. He strokes me with his fingers, and I'm peaking already and soon, our lips clench hungrily.

As he pulls away, intending to free himself from his clothing, I stop. When he comes to kiss me again, I stand firm, determined to address the pressing issue at hand.

He straightens up, sitting next to me, his gaze fixed on me with a mix of frustration and irritation. He looks angry.

"Do you have a problem with me or what I'm doing?" he asks, his voice tense.

"No, it's not that. It's about us, our relationship," I reply, searching for the right words. "Max, don't you understand? I thought you wanted this as much as I do."

"What do you mean? Chrissy, are you kidding me right now? I thought you desired this too," he responds, his voice rising.

"Yes, I do want this, but not like this. You're doing all the right things physically, but emotionally, you barely have time for me. Whenever I try to talk, you shut me out with a kiss or something. You didn't even explain why you couldn't come around yesterday. Shouldn't I at least know?" I question him, desperation seeping into my words. He looks away, raking his hand roughly through his hair.

"I was busy, that's all," he finally admits, crouching down to my level and taking my hands in his. "I'm sorry, Chrissy. I'll make it up to you once I get my schedule under control."

His words weigh heavily on me. I know he's juggling his father's business, school activities, and countless other responsibilities, but I can't shake off the emptiness I feel, as if I don't even have a boyfriend.

"You've said that a hundred times, Max! I don't want to seem like I'm complaining, but you know you're not being fair to me," I express, my voice filled with a mix of frustration and sadness.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'll handle everything so we can do whatever... you want. I miss you, and..." he trails off, his lips capturing mine.

"Max, my mom—" I begin, but he interrupts me.

"I know. Just this..." he murmurs, sealing my words with another kiss. His hands continue to explore beneath my top, his touch sending shivers down my spine. His phone suddenly rings, and he excuses himself to answer it. When he returns, his expression is one of disappointment. I know what it means; he's leaving again, just like always.

"I have to—" he starts, but I cut him off.

"Don't worry. It's the door. Just close it after you leave the house," I say, my voice tinged with resignation, as I make my way towards the stairs.

"Chriss! Baby, I promise—" he pleads.

"Don't worry, Max. I'm used to it," I tell him, my words carrying a hint of bitterness. And with that, I hear the door slam shut. He's gone.

Left alone, I'm filled with uncertainty. I don't know what to do, and I can't determine who's at fault. Is it me or him? It feels as though both of us are pretending to want this relationship, or perhaps it's just me pretending. I do care for him, but my thoughts often drift to Dayle. I catch myself wishing it were Dayle standing in Max's place.

I lie on my back, my gaze fixed on the ceiling, replaying the events of today in my mind. Rumors have reached me that Dayle and Lauren are now seeing each other. It's barely been three weeks since the semester started, and he's already moved on from Trisha, Doreen, Stacy, and even the most recent one, Molly.

Why do I long for someone who changes girls as often as he changes his outfits and shoes? Just like his wardrobe, he swaps out his girlfriends, and the school is bound to witness the aftermath of this bizarre carousel.

My phone chimes, interrupting my thoughts. I grab it hastily, answering the call without checking the screen.

"Chriss!"

"Ken Salazar!" I coolly tease.

"Yes, Horton! Did he come over?"

"You mean the guy who lies and makes empty promises? Or the one who feigns care just because he's friends with the busy one?" I retort, my frustration evident.

"Did you just vent to me?" Ken responds, surprise lacing his words.

"Yeah, I did. It's not Ellen, is it?"

"No, honey, it's not Ellen. Whatever happened, it's not my fault. I'll talk to him—" he begins.

"Why?" I interrupt, my voice tinged with exhaustion.

"Because you're my friend, and I don't want to see you hurt," he answers sincerely.

"Why are you always the one talking to him? If he truly cares as he claims, why does he keep coming and going? Does that make any sense? I'm tired of how Max treats me. He's even..." My voice trails off.

"Take it easy on yourself, honey. He won't get away with this, I promise. I have to go now. Dad needs me, okay?"

"Why not!" I hang up, tossing my phone aside. I thought Ken understood what I was going through, but he's gone too, and it's not his fault either.

Will my mom ever return from wherever she went? Damn, it's not even nine yet.

I see him again, Dayle.

He's talking with Lauren in the hallway, his smile radiant. I can't help but wish it were me. He places a hand on her head and leans in to kiss her forehead. Meanwhile, I'm standing just a few feet away, pretending to grab textbooks from my locker. I steal glances at him, and he notices, his eyebrows furrowing before he quickly averts his gaze. I hope he doesn't approach me. Why am I so stubborn, ignoring his warning not to cross paths? Oh, gosh!

"Hey, Chriss?!" Ellen's voice breaks through my thoughts, pulling me back to reality.

I turn to face her. Our lockers are adjacent, and Ken is engrossed in a phone call, just as busy as Max. My bad, Ken has nothing to do with Max in this aspect.

"Ellen! What's up?" I reply, trying to sound casual.

"I heard what happened to you last night. Ken told me," she says, concern etched on her face.

"Of course, he would!" I snap, my tone cold. I adjust my red top and tuck my hair behind my ear, then lock my locker. Dayle and Lauren walk past us, exchanging friendly glances with Ken. The popular kids' code, as usual.

"Let's not talk about it," I mutter, my voice tinged with weariness.

"Why do you keep staring at that guy? He's no match for Max," Ellen questions, curiosity evident in her eyes.

"I never said he was. Max is a sweetheart, unlike certain people!" I sarcastically reply.

"I know you're upset with Max, but he'll come around. He's dealing with a lot, too much perhaps, but he genuinely cares about you. He's just—" she starts, trying to defend him.

"Seriously, you seem to understand him better. If you want, you can date him!" I interrupt, my frustration getting the better of me.

I can't believe what I just said. Max, here and there. Ellen walks off, anger etched on her face, and my expression drops. Ken approaches, inquiring about Ellen.

"I told her she could date Max, and she got... mad!" I confess, disappointment filling my voice.

"That's a serious joke!" Ken exclaims, his disbelief evident.

"I didn't mean it! She was saying too much as if she knows Max better than I do!"

"Well, I think she likes Max just as much as you do," Ken casually remarks.

"What?!"