SHE SILENCED ME WITH ANOTHER KISS

Chapter 3

Max

The ride back to my house was like I was floating in a wide sea. I knew I was too drunk to be on my bike, but the alcohol made everything seem like a brilliant idea.

Each turn felt like I was fighting to stay upright, and by the time I pulled into our driveway, my hands were shaking from more than just the cold night air.

I killed the engine and sat there for a moment, trying to get my bearings. The house was completely dark except for the porch light Mom always left on for me. Good. Everyone was asleep.

I stumbled off the bike and nearly kissing the garage door.

Real smooth, Rivera.

I fumbled with my keys, dropping them twice before finally getting the right one into the lock.

The house was dead silent as I crept through the back door, avoiding the creaky floorboard by the kitchen island that would wake up Dad faster than a fire alarm.

I held my breath as I tiptoed past my parents' bedroom, then Sofia's room, finally making it to my door at the end of the hall.

I turned the handle as slowly as possible and slipped inside, already reaching for the light switch.

"Don't turn it on."

I nearly jumped out of my skin. My heart slammed against my ribs as I spun around, squinting in the darkness.

"Freya?" I whispered, my voice hoarse with shock. "What the hell are you doing here?"

She was lying in my bed, just a silhouette under my covers. "Waiting for you," she said softly. "You were gone so long."

"Baby, what... how did you even get in here? It's almost two in the morning." I ran my hand through my hair, trying to process this through the alcohol fog in my brain. "Why didn't you call me?"

"Your dad let me in earlier. I told him I wanted to surprise you." Her voice was different somehow, softer but with an edge I couldn't quite place. "I've been here for hours."

I stood there swaying slightly, trying to make sense of this. Freya had never snuck into my room before. She'd never even been in here when my parents were home. Dad had strict rules about that kind of thing.

"I need to shower," I mumbled, more to myself than to her. "I smell like beer and sweat."

I stumbled toward my bathroom, turning on the cold water and splashing it on my face until some of the fog cleared. When I looked in the mirror, my reflection looked like hell, bloodshot eyes, disheveled hair, and the stupid grin of someone who'd had way too much to drink.

I brushed my teeth twice, trying to get the taste of beer and Ace venom, then changed into a pair of basketball shorts. When I came back into the bedroom, she was still there, still waiting.

"Come here," she whispered, patting the space beside her.

I hesitated for just a second before sliding under the covers next to her. This was how we always laid together—me behind her, my arm wrapped around her waist, her head tucked under my chin. It was comfortable, familiar, safe.

But tonight felt different.

"Max," she breathed, turning in my arms so she was facing me. Even in the darkness, I could see the outline of her face, the way her blonde hair spilled across my pillow.

"Yeah, baby?"

Instead of answering, she kissed me. Not the sweet, gentle kisses we usually shared, but something hungrier, more desperate. Her hands found the waistband of my shorts, fingers tracing patterns on my skin that made my breath catch.

"Freya, wait..." I started to pull back, but she pressed closer, her lips moving to my neck.

"I don't want to wait anymore," she whispered against my throat. "I love you, Max. I've loved you for four years. I want all of you."

My head was spinning, and not just from the alcohol. This conversation, we'd had it before. She'd wanted to take this step so many times, and I'd always been the one to pump the brakes.

We'd decided to wait until we got married. It was important to me, something I'd promised myself.

But the way she was touching me, the way my body was responding, the alcohol making everything feel hazy and urgent, I couldn't think straight.

"Freya, I don't know if we should..."

She silenced me with another kiss, deeper this time, and suddenly my resolve crumbled. My hands found her waist, pulling her closer, and she made this soft sound that drove me crazy.

"Please," she whispered, and that one word shattered every defense I had left.

What happened next was sounds made by whispered names and tangled sheets, touches that set my skin on fire and kisses that tasted like forever.

She was gentle and patient when I fumbled, encouraging when I hesitated, and when it was over, she curled against my chest like she belonged there.

"I love you," she murmured against my skin, her voice sleepy and satisfied.

"I love you too," I whispered back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

I woke up with the worst headache of my life and the taste of regret in my mouth. Sunlight streamed through my window, making my skull feel like it was splitting in half. I groaned and tried to sit up, immediately regretting the movement.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Freya's voice was bright and cheerful, way too cheerful for how awful I felt.

I turned to look at her, and the events of last night came flooding back. She was already dressed, sitting on the edge of my bed with this satisfied smile that made my stomach churn.

"Freya, about last night..."

"Don't you dare apologize," she said firmly, crawling back toward me. "Don't you dare try to make this into something to feel guilty about."

"But we said we'd wait..."

"We've been together for four years, Max. Four years. And last night was perfect." She leaned down and kissed me, soft and sweet. "I don't regret it for a second."

I wanted to tell her that I felt like we'd rushed into something we weren't ready for. I wanted to explain this weird hollowness in my chest that I couldn't shake. But looking at her face, seeing how happy she was, the words died in my throat.

"You're right," I said instead, pulling her down for another kiss. "It was perfect."

She smiled against my lips, and somehow we ended up making love again, slower this time, more deliberate. And afterward, as she got dressed to sneak out before my parents woke up, I tried to convince myself that this was what I wanted.

This was what being in love was supposed to feel like.