AN: Got home and managed to write 1 chapter. LOL. Here you go.
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As much as both of them wanted another round... okay, maybe a couple more... they held back. Barely.
Lilly was still sore, and no matter how much Alex looked at her like a starving man at a buffet, he didn't push it. His hands stayed respectful (mostly), though his towel situation became increasingly risky with each passing minute. Her body was temptation itself, but he bit down on his urges, reminding himself that not injuring the girl he liked was a pretty solid boyfriend move, even if they hadn't said that word out loud yet.
For her part, Lilly felt every stare, every brush of his arm, every loaded pause like it was its own form of foreplay. Her body was still humming from the night before, but her thighs were tight, her hips ached, and she had work the next day. Showing up to a meeting with "sorry, can't sit straight because my man rearranged my insides" wasn't an excuse her boss would appreciate.
So, restraint.
Painful, sweet, mutually frustrating restraint.
After breakfast, eggs, toast, and enough stolen glances to qualify as foreplay, Alex dressed, still half-hard under his jeans, and walked her to his car like it was the most normal thing in the world.
The sun was already high and it was kinda windy today, but Lilly didn't mind. She had one of his hoodies on, over her clothes, which swallowed her whole in the best way, sleeves draping over her hands. She liked how it looked on her. She liked how it smelled like him.
Alex kept one hand on the wheel and the other resting loosely on her thigh, rubbing circles absentmindedly with his thumb. He didn't move higher, but the tension was there. Unspoken. Heavy.
"You're doing this on purpose," she muttered.
"Hmm?"
"The thumb thing."
He smirked, eyes still on the road. "I literally have no idea what you're talking about."
She snorted. "Liar."
They pulled up outside her friend's house and one very excited dog was visible through the front window. The moment Lilly stepped out of the car, the door swung open and a blur of fur came racing out.
"Loki!" she called, crouching down just in time for the little tornado to tackle her chest-first, tongue out, tail wagging like it was trying to power a generator.
Alex leaned against the car and watched with a lopsided grin as she laughed and let the dog climb all over her. It was chaotic and pure and kind of beautiful.
"You miss me, huh?" she cooed, kissing the dog's head. "I missed you too, buddy."
After a few more excited circles and a quick thank you to her friend, they got back in the car, Loki curling up instantly on the back seat, tongue lolling, totally content.
Alex reached over and scratched behind the dog's ear.
"You ready to go, bud?"
"Woof!" Loki barked softly.
"Alright..."
Alex eased the car back onto the road, one hand still lazily on the wheel while the other reached out to tap the beat of the song playing softly through the speakers.
Loki, now officially in chill mode, let out a dramatic sigh from the back seat.
"He sounds more tired than we are," Alex said, glancing in the rearview mirror.
"Well, he didn't spend the night being... energetically compromised," Lilly quipped, crossing her arms and trying to look smug. It lasted a whole three seconds before her inner thighs reminded her of their current state. "Ow. Okay, note to self. Maybe no smug posture when your hips feel like they've been through a spin cycle."
Alex laughed, full and unfiltered. "You gonna survive, champ?"
"Barely. But I will recover," she said, turning in her seat to face him. "And when I do, I get to plan our next date."
Alex raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh? You want planning privileges now?"
"Yup," she said proudly. "Next time, I'm picking the place, the time, the vibe. You're just showing up and being hot. Can you handle that?"
Alex tilted his head like he was considering it seriously. "Hmm. So I get to be arm candy for a night?"
"Exactly."
He grinned. "Can I wear something tight and mysterious? Maybe something that says 'I'm not just a snack... I'm the whole damn buffet'?"
Lilly choked on a laugh. "Please do. Show up in, like, a sheer shirt and tight jeans. No socks. That'll confuse everyone."
Alex nodded solemnly. "No socks. Got it. And I'll bring mysterious energy. Like, brooding ex-assassin turned poet who writes tragic haikus."
She mimicked a swoon. "You'll be fighting them off with chopsticks."
"Hey, don't tempt me. I do own chopsticks."
"Wow. So cultured. So dangerous."
He smirked. "Okay, Miss Planner, what's the vibe for our date then? Candlelight dinner? Rave in an abandoned warehouse? Goat yoga?"
Lilly tapped her chin dramatically. "I'm thinking… karaoke bar."
Alex blinked. "Karaoke?"
"Oh yeah. I need to see if your voice matches the bedroom performance."
His mouth dropped open. "Excuse me..."
"Because if you sound like a dying walrus, I need to know now, Alex."
He looked offended. "First of all, I sound at worst like a mildly congested angel."
"Prove it," she shot back. "We're doing duets. I want emotion. I want passion. I want you singing 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' like it's a breakup anthem and you're the dramatic ex."
He placed a hand over his chest, mock-wounded. "You wound me, babe. You really do."
"You'll survive. Also, Loki gets to vote on your performance. He's the Simon Cowell of this household now."
From the back seat, Loki yawned with a judgey little snort.
Alex looked at the rearview mirror. "Wow. Harsh but fair."
They pulled into her driveway a few minutes later, still laughing.
As she reached for the door handle, Alex caught her wrist gently. "Hey."
She turned, eyebrows raised.
He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss, soft and simple. "Can't wait for our weird karaoke date."
She smiled, cheeks warming. "You better start practicing. That angel better be ready to sing."
He grinned. "Only if you promise to be my tragic ex."
"Oh, I was born for it."
Loki barked once, as if to say "You're both ridiculous."
And honestly, he wasn't wrong.
...
[Max and Caroline's apartment]
The sun was an unwelcome guest in Max's life. A brutal, eye-stabbing, disrespectful presence that dared to exist before noon. But today? Today was special.
Max was up.
Before Caroline.
In her natural habitat, Max was a self-proclaimed vampire: pale, moody, and convinced coffee should be classified as a vital organ. But the promise of seeing Alex—hot, frustrating, magic fingers, Alex—was enough to jolt her undead ass out of bed and straight into the bathroom.
The bathroom mirror greeted her with yesterday's eyeliner smudged under her eyes like war paint and a rat's nest of hair that could house a small bird.
"Hot," she muttered to herself, unamused. "I look like the killer clown after a bender."
Still, she tied her hair up in a messy bun and got to work. Toothbrush, face wash, and tweezers. Then came the real mission.
"Unprecedented behavior," she muttered to herself as she stood butt-naked in front of the mirror, razor in one hand, leg propped up on the sink like she was doing some kind of sexy Olympic stretch.
"I am awake at nine a.m.," she whispered with a mix of horror and awe. "This is love. Or madness. Possibly both. With a drizzle of lust."
She eyed the razor. Then eyed… downstairs.
"Hmmm... Now, the real question," she said, squinting like a philosopher staring into the void. "What pube shape says 'I'm hot, mysterious, and fun at brunch' but also says 'please respect me and pass the mimosa'?"
She tapped her chin, deep in thought. "Landing strip? Classic. Reliable. Like the vanilla latte of pubic hairstyles."
She shook her head. "No. Too basic. Too '2000 adult magazine'."
"Full heart?" she mused, making a little heart with her fingers. "Too cutesy. What am I, a Care Bear?"
She glanced at her razor. "Lightning bolt?"
A beat.
"…Too much. I'll look like I run an underground EDM festival."
She leaned in closer to the mirror, eyes narrowing with the seriousness of a general preparing for battle. "Maybe... the triangle. Yes. Sharp. Sophisticated. Like I own a library card and a whip."
She nodded in satisfaction and started working.
From the bedroom, a sleepy voice called out, "Max...?"
Max froze, one leg still on the sink, razor mid-swipe.
"Yes, darling Caroline?"
Caroline's groggy mumble floated in. "Why are you... awake?"
"Because today is sacred," Max called back. "Alex is coming over and I refuse to let him see me with stubble anywhere except my rebellious soul."
A beat of silence.
"…Are you shaving your legs or your—" (Max was babbling about her bush last night after drinking too much. So, it kinda stuck with Caroline's mind. No idea, why would she think of it the first thing in the morning.)
"Everything."
Another pause. Then, a muffled thud as Caroline apparently faceplanted back into her pillow.
"Wake me when you're done manscaping your Venus flytrap."
Max rolled her eyes. "Rude. It's called grooming, Caroline. This is self-care and preparation for inevitable flirt-based warfare."
She rinsed the razor, inspecting her work like an artist evaluating a sculpture.
"Perfect," she whispered. "Michelangelo who?"
Then she padded out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom to check on Caroline, who was now cocooned in a blanket burrito, one foot sticking out like a peace treaty.
Max poked her. "Caroline."
"Nnnnghh."
"Do you want to be hot or not when Alex comes over?"
Caroline grunted. "I'm hot by default."
"You have bedhead that looks like you fought a raccoon and lost."
"…Still hot."
Max rolled her eyes again but with affection. "Alright, swamp princess. I'm making coffee. When I come back, I expect you to have risen like a phoenix."
Caroline groaned something unintelligible that might've been "Phoenix my ass," but Max was already in the kitchen, grabbing beans like a caffeinated general prepping for war.
Because today, it wasn't just about seeing Alex.
It was about somehow making him use his magic fingers, magic tongue... Well, his whole body.
[Kitchen]
Max reached for the coffee canister in the cupboard, hand still slightly damp from her post-shave victory lap. But instead of ground beans, her fingers grazed something else. Something suspiciously... crunchy.
She squinted into the back of the cabinet and fished it out.
A sandwich bag. Lightly yellowed from time. Stuffed with what could only be described as the fossilized remains of mid-2000s weed.
"Well, well, well, look what the pot fairy dragged in," she whispered like she'd just unearthed a national treasure.
The bag was practically vintage. She gave it a sniff and recoiled. "Smells like regret and a Blink-182 concert."
She turned the crusty nug over in her hand, marveling. "This stuff's from, like... I have no idea. It's older than Charlize Theron's last good decision."
Still, the temptation hit fast. Coffee could wait. This? This was history.
She grabbed a lighter from the junk drawer (because of course Max had a junk drawer full of 87 mismatched lighters and triple-A batteries) and was just about to spark up when...
"Are you seriously about to smoke weed at nine-thirty in the morning?"
Max jumped.
Caroline stood in the kitchen doorway like some kind of judgmental angel of brunch, wrapped in her robe, face still puffy from sleep, eyebrow cocked so high it was in danger of breaching her hairline.
Max, frozen with the lighter halfway to her face, blinked. "...Define seriously."
"Max."
"Okay, technically, it's not weed. It's... weed's great-great-grandfather. It's like the Lincoln of weed. I'm honoring it."
Caroline walked over and plucked the ancient bag from Max's hand. She held it up like it might bite. "This looks like something you found under your car seat after Coachella."
Max grinned. "That's because I did. Coachella '05. I bought it from a guy dressed as a traffic cone."
"Not surprising."
"He called himself DJ Orange Cone. He had a business card and everything."
Caroline gave her a look. "Do you even know if it's safe to smoke fifteen-year-old weed?"
Max shrugged. "Does anyone ever know if weed is safe? That's part of the fun. It's like Russian roulette, but more mellow and with snacks."
Caroline dropped the bag on the counter and crossed her arms. "You said you wanted to look good for Alex. You really want to greet him stoned off your ass, smelling like dusty Doritos and regret?"
Max narrowed her eyes. "Yes. That sounds like my natural state."
"You also said you were gonna make coffee."
"…Fine, Mom. No pre-brunch blaze. I'll wait."
She tucked the bag back into the cupboard like she was putting a child to bed.
"Later, my crispy little friend. Your time will come."
Caroline rolled her eyes and grabbed a mug. "If he finds you high later, I'm telling him you mistook his beard for a squirrel and tried to pet it."
Max grinned as she measured out coffee grounds. "He'd probably let me."
And just like that, ancient weed, brunch outfits, and caffeine-fueled banter were back on the schedule.
They were ready for Alex.
Probably.
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[6 advance chs] + [10 chs of Two and a Half Men: Waking up as Charlie Harper] [All chs available for all tiers]