Cause for Concern ✓

eighteen

SATURDAY. 09. OCTOBER.
(Unedited)

MAX was in the back of Cole's car, breathless. His hair was ruffled, his lips were swollen, his eyes were glazed and he was smoothing over his dishevelled sweater.

Cole's lips were soft and warm, full and inviting; roses blushing against the kiss. They moved fluently, like they were doing a dance that they'd done many times before and he tasted faintly of strawberry.

The weight of Max's bones, the thickness of the air in the backseat, made his head feel fuzzy and cloudy. It was the kind of daze that made you feel like you were in love. Except he was looking at Cole, who was sitting up and leaning forward, shoulders tight and hunched and fingers grasping at the black seats. His dark hair flopped downwards over his eyes as he bowed his head, eyes fixed on his knees.

It had happened so fast that Max was still scrambling himself upwards, gently placing a hand on Cole's shoulder, but he was only met with a tender wince, like his fingertips were flames. One minute, everything had been going smoothly and it had been escalating in a way that Max had been comfortable with but maybe he'd been getting too ahead of himself.

Now he was sat in the dark of a heated car with a pretty boy and a terrible pool of guilt in his stomach, a pool that he was sinking deeper and deeper into as he came more and more aware of what was happening.

"What's wrong?" He asked, his voice rough and raspy and broken. "Is everything okay?"

His hands were covering his face and when he dropped them, he huffed and turned his head towards Max, who was desperately inching forward to get a better look of him. "What is this?" He asked, voice equally as raspy and broken.

"I don't understand," he frowned, shaking his head and removing his hand from Cole's shoulder, letting it fall in his lap. "What's what?"

"This," Cole said, gesturing between them.

"I don't know," Max admitted with a cautious laugh. "What do you want it to be?"

"I mean," he continued, "what are we doing?"

"We were making out in the back of your car," Max said gently, falling against the comfortable backs of the seats and tilting his head back so that his eyes were steady on the roof. "Now you're upset and I'm trying to figure out what I've done wrong. Think you could give me a better hint?"

The words seemed to be stuck on his tongue, maybe tangled in his throat. Wherever they where, he couldn't seem to find them so Max waited. He didn't have to wait long but he could've waited all night. He was feeling patient and it's not like he was in a rush to be anywhere else.

"Am I rebound?" Cole asked when he found the words and, instantly, Max wished that he would lose them again. He was still leaning forward, away from Max, but his neck was craned to look at him.

Still gazing at the roof of the car, he blinked and then lowered his head back down to look at Cole. "What?" He asked.

"You came out to see Tyler tonight," Cole said, adjusting his posture a little and facing his head back to the front of the car, his eyes staring out of the windshield and onto the lonely street. "You came to see Tyler so that you could end things and on the same night we end up making out in the back of my car. Am I a distraction for you? Is that what this is? Because if that's what this is then I'm not interested anymore."

"Alright," Max said. "The timing isn't great. I get that. It doesn't mean I'm using you as a rebound. I'm not using you as anything. I just like spending time with you."

Cole felt untouchable, like he was covered in spikes or trapped inside of a jar where he could always be seen and yet still remained so far out of reach. "I don't know," he muttered. "You were pretty impassioned over the phone last night."