Olivia

I've dreaded this very day since the moment Brynn announced Max and I were the leads. I avoided it, begged for it to belong to someone else, fumbled my way through it, and eventually owned it like a badass.

After sharing that journal entry with Max on the cliff, we spent the next several weeks turning it into an actual song. He helped add a few lyrics, making it flow and carry a sense of rhythm to it. And then he added the sound. Playing his guitar as we continued to write. I no longer felt scared to shed my voice to the lyrics, to let him hear me. And he joined in as well, finding the pieces that belonged to him, that were meant for him. Because the thing is, we found each other on that bench that day, and that song, it's an anthem to a friendship that I think has saved us both.

The problem is, as I drop my walls lower, letting Max see pieces of me I've kept so closely guarded, I've begun to realize how much I enjoy his company, as more than just a friend. I can't ignore the way his touch has my stomach fluttering, or the way his eyes have me smiling without a word. I can't deny the way I think about him when I lay my head down at night or the way I wonder if he thinks about me too.

But now is the time to put every minute I've spent memorizing lines, failing my way through various scenes, overcoming obstacles and facing my fears into this very moment. It's opening night.

I've somehow survived the first half of the play. Dropped every line perfectly, landed every mark, and done it all without completely freaking out. Part of that is because it is all an act. I'm playing a role. A piece of the orchestra.

It's gotten me through. It's helped me focus on the lines I thought escaped me. It's helped me ignore the fire at Max's touch. Helped me ignore any feelings that seem to take flight in his presence. I've been doing okay.

Until right now.

I've run through this scene a thousand times. I've sung the song Brynn wrote to capture this very moment while I'm in the shower, mopping the floors at work, in rehearsal so many times that I've begun to dream about it. I'm literally singing her song in my sleep.

The problem is, none of those scenarios included a live audience. I've made it this far. Made it through each and every line without throwing up. The audience has been amazing. Laughing where they need to, applauding the shit out of each scene, and yet, I'm still trembling.

I stand, staring at the dark stage, the crew dressed in black quickly flipping the scene. Two stools are placed in the center, one mic between them. This is it. The moment I've been dreading since I signed up for this.

My eyes stay trained on those empty seats as everything else is cleared from the stage. The only thing for people to see is me and Max. Him playing, me singing. Something Brynn made a change of just a few weeks ago. She decided the song she wrote for this moment deserved to stand alone. Just the sound of Max's guitar, the two of us sitting side by side, the spotlight directly on us. It's raw, it's intimate, it's causing my heart to leap from my chest.

I can't do this. I take two steps back, ready to bolt, when I slam into a firm chest.

"I'm right here," his voice whispers from behind me, immediately beginning to settle the raging storm inside my chest.

I turn, placing my focus on Max's eyes. Letting his presence do what it always does. I can't speak, I can't control the frantic breaths stuttering from my lips.

His hands land on both of my shoulders, holding me in place, stabilizing my body to the ground. "You remember our time on the cliffs? When it's just you and me, singing together?" he whispers.

I think about all of the times this past month that we've spent on that cliff, secluded, perfecting our song together. Singing and laughing. The sense of calm and freedom that came with it.

"Thirty seconds," the stage manager casually states, walking by us like my life isn't crumbling onto this very floor.

Max's hands slide to my face now, keeping my eyes with his. I slowly nod. I do remember those moments. Each and every one of them.

"Good," he says. "Because it's just me and you out there, okay? Just stay with me, eyes on me the whole time. Got it?"

I still can't find the words, something that is going to be a major issue in roughly ten seconds. I nod again before his hand slides into mine, pulling me to those very empty stools.

He sits me down, turning my body to face his before sitting across from me, facing me. This isn't part of the staging we rehearsed. I'm supposed to be facing the mic, he's supposed to be facing the crowd. He's not. He's pulled closer to me, his knees brushing mine as he adjusts his guitar in front of him.

The lights slowly brighten, the spotlight lighting up our silhouettes. All attention lands on the two of us. His eyes find mine, and I stay with him.

"Do you trust me?" he whispers, the quiet of the room bouncing off of the walls.

"Yes," I finally speak.

His smile continues to melt away the fear that's still fighting to race through my veins. His eyes still locked on mine, easing the lingering panic.

When he strums that first note, my eyes widen. This isn't what we rehearsed. This isn't the song. My head quickly begins shaking back and forth, the trepidation suddenly falling back into place.

I can't do this.

"Yes, you can," he whispers, reading my thoughts, leaving me to question if I actually said them out loud. "It's me and you, Liv."

His voice is relaxed, warm, working overtime to keep me calm. His knee slides along mine, the wave of his strength flowing from his body to mine. And when that first line falls from my lips, it's quiet, it's barely even audible, but it's there. The words, my words, our song, float out, surrounding the two of us. That damn smile reaches his lips again, giving me more courage.

With each and every line, with the look he keeps giving me and the way his fingers so effortlessly move, my voice begins to increase. Echoing off the silent walls, gaining strength in each note he plays.

As it hits the chorus, his voice joins mine, continuing to give me everything I've needed in this moment. His eyes are still holding mine, reminding me that he's here, that I'm not alone. Our voices tangled as one, dancing in tandem.

As the second verse begins to play, this exclusive bubble we've managed to build coats me with courage. Before my mind can get in the way and fill me with insecurities, I stand from the small stool, his body turns to stay connected with me as I step forward. One small step as I grip the mic between my fingers, letting the words take the spotlight. Letting them set me free.

I know he's still beside me, I can feel him. But I also feel something else. A sense of ease, of confidence, of power. This moment, standing on this stage, belting out the words to a song we wrote has given me something new. Something I've never felt before. It's like for the first time, I actually have a voice.

By the second chorus, his body is beside mine, his face close as he leans in to share the mic with me. Our eyes lock again as I find the small specks of gold glittering around his irises. Our breaths desperately grip onto one another. My fingers grip the mic tighter, my heart pulsating against its walls. It's no longer beating out of fear. It's beating to reach him.

When he hits that last chord, silence falls upon us again. Staring at one another under the hot spotlight illuminating this very moment.

And that's when everything else fades away. When all I see is him. It's always only been him.

He holds my gaze as he takes one swift move forward, stealing every piece of free air left between the two of us.

Everything else surrounding this very glisten of time is frozen.

Still.

Until his lips fall against mine.

They're soft. Perfectly forming to mine, his hand slides across my cheek and rests peacefully behind my neck. He pulls our bodies slightly closer. I've never felt the movement of a boy's lips against my own. I shouldn't know what to do, I should be floundering like the novice I am, but as his lips move, mine find his rhythm, syncing to his every move.

There's a rush of heat flooding my system, working its way around every organ and muscle before settling deep in my gut. Desire, lust, a whole fleet of butterflies. Is a first kiss supposed to feel this...good?

When his chest brushes mine, the realization of exactly what it is that is happening hits me. Max fucking Hayes is kissing me right now, in front of an entire audience...off script. I quickly pull my lips from his, pushing myself back as I gasp for a breath of air.

This wasn't in the script. But the fact that his hand is still resting behind my head, that thumb of his now caressing my cheek, tells me he didn't do this as part of the act. That darkened look in his eyes tells me a whole lot more.

Before I can officially have a freak out moment, the crowd erupts in applause, causing me to take a sudden step back. I let out an awkward smile, dipping my head in some type of lame attempt at a bow before bolting from the stage.

I know he's behind me.

"Well, that was a surprise," Brynn smiles, hands folded over her chest.

Great. Just great. My first kiss not only on display for an audience, but in front of his mom. This just keeps getting better, doesn't it?

"I'm sorry, Brynn. I didn't know–"

"Her song fit the scene better. That was all me," Max quickly states from behind me.

Brynn's eyes settle on mine for a brief moment before falling to her son's. "Oh, I have no doubt that was all you out there." Her eyes come back to me. "That was your song?"

I slowly nod. "The words, yes. Everything else was Max."

She looks between the two of us. "I wish you two would have told me about this sooner." She's mad. This is bad. "I would have put you in charge of some other songs too. That was amazing."

She steps forward and wraps me up in a hug. So, she's not mad?

"But we messed up the play," I try to remind her, though I really should just take this moment as a win and stop talking.

"Are you kidding?" she pulls back. "Did you hear that crowd? They loved it!"

I slowly turn to see the smiling faces.

"Nice touch with the kiss too," she smiles before turning away. "Now get ready to bring this thing home," she shouts over her shoulder.

I can't help the smile that's now plastered to my face. She actually liked my song. One of the best songwriters I know actually preferred my song to her own.

"Liv," Max whispers beside me, his hand sliding into mine and pulling me to face him. "I–"

"Stop," I blurt out, resting my hand on his chest. "We still have a few more scenes and I need to try to get through them without losing my mind. Whatever you're about to say, save it."

He watches me for a moment before slowly nodding his head. "Okay."

I nod back, taking one deep breath before stepping back onto the stage. Max Hayes just stole my first kiss. A kiss I hadn't intended to give away tonight. But what has me spinning is the fact that I really want to do it again.

***

When I was younger, I used to hide under the blankets. When something scary or embarrassing happened, I'd run to my room, close the door, and bury myself beneath the comfort of darkness. The thing about the shelter of a blanket when you're young, is that you have the innocence of if you can't see them, they can't see you.

But through all of that, there was one person I knew would always find me. My mom. She always knew where to look, and when the perfect time was to pull the covers back and ask me to talk.

The thing about hiding there, was that I was never hiding from everyone. I always kept myself somewhere where she would know where to look for me. Because even in the most difficult of times, I always wanted her to find me.

I think that's why I'm here. At the cliff.

After the play, I did the only logical thing I could think of and I bolted.

There's a set of footsteps behind me now. The thing is, if I was really running, truly avoiding him, I wouldn't have chosen to run to the place he'd look for me first. The one place I knew Max would find me. Like that scared little girl hiding beneath the sheets, knowing the person she needed the most would know just where to look.

I fear I'm still that scared girl. I'm terrified we crossed a line we can't come back from. And most of all, despite everything, I'm scared he isn't feeling what I'm feeling.

When I hear him approach me, I swivel on my heel and find his eyes. He's not empty handed, a small gathering of freshly picked wildflowers are bundled within his hand. I glance down at the display of vibrant yellows and whites, of the very flowers I seem to find strength and beauty in.

He holds them up between us, taking a small step forward. "You can't fix everything with flowers, Max," I snap, immediately regretting the panic behind them.

He takes another step forward, his eyes still with mine. "Why would I try to fix something I don't believe to be broken?"

"Max..."

"Liv," he stops me. "Why did you run?"

"Why did you kiss me?" My words come out fast. He kissed me. He just changed everything. I need to know why. He studies me, the words silent as he stands in the cool air of the night. His lack of answer has my hands shaking, my heart beating painfully within my chest. "Max, I need to know why you kissed me."

He stops in front of me, keeping a few feet between us. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Max, things with us...our friendship..." the words won't seem to form. I know exactly what it is I want to say. That his friendship means everything to me. I can't cross a line that could lead to losing him, not again. I've grown to need him, to seek him out and lean on him. Crossing that line is unpredictable. It's standing on wobbly knees while the earth shakes beneath you.

"Liv," he takes a step closer, causing my hand to slam against his chest, keeping a safe space between us.

"No," I shake my head, trying so damn hard to stop him. "You kissed me, Max."

"I know," he whispers, his eyes dangerously locked on mine.

"You shouldn't have." My voice is low now, the panic turning to need as my elbow slowly gives way, allowing his body to close in against mine.

"I wanted to," he whispers again, his breath now playing across my lips, causing my heart to playfully dance across my chest. "I still want to."

My breathing stops completely, my eyes falling closed as his lips brush mine. I should savor this moment. I should cave and allow every swirling desire to be met. But I don't. Instead, my mind jumps in and the next word escapes before I've even processed it. "Why?"

He pulls back, the cold air replacing his warm presence as my eyes slowly roll open. "Why do I want to kiss you?"

I nod my head. "Yes. Why me?"

His hand raises to my cheek, those fingers of his playing with my hair before tucking it back behind my ear. "Why not you, Liv? You found me on that bench when I was all alone. You didn't let me stay in my sinking hole by myself. Every time you come near me my heart does this crazy beat, and when you're not around, I'm left anticipating the next moment I get to see you. Because I only feel alive when I'm with you, Liv. You're all I ever think about. The only person I think about."

Every hesitant thought, fear, worry flies off my chest as I crash my lips to his. He doesn't hesitate. His hands slide along my lower back, pull me tight against him as my hands fall behind his neck, my fingers naturally lace through his hair.

This kiss is needier than our first. His lips part slightly this time, seeking access. My lips part for him, needing to feel more. As his tongue slides across mine, my body ignites with a passion I haven't felt before. The way his tongue tangles with mine, the way mine finds a rhythm so goddamn naturally against his. His hand slides up my back, gripping my head and bringing us impossibly closer as he sucks my bottom lip between his teeth.

When he slowly pulls away, my lips feel swollen, pulsing with need that I don't think is going to go away. Not anymore.

"Max," I exhale as his head falls against mine, both of us attempting to catch our breaths. "What does this all mean?"

I can feel his smile forming before I see it. "Liv, I want to hold your hand in the halls. I want to take you on a date. I want to be able to kiss you a whole lot more. I want to call you mine."

I seem to be the one with the ridiculous smile now. "I want that too."

"Yeah?" he pulls back, an excitement in his eyes as he watches me.

"I'm scared, Max."

His hand falls along my cheek, holding my gaze to his. "Why are you scared? It's just me."

"That's exactly why I'm scared. What if crossing this line isn't what we're supposed to do next? What if this doesn't work?" The fear begins to creep up again, settling across my chest and attempting to reinforce my walls. The very walls that are beginning to crumble.

"And what if it does?" he counters. "Look, I'm scared too. But I think that's a good thing. I think it means we have something worth fighting for. I want to take this chance, Liv. I want to take it with you."

I scan every detail of his face. The way his eyes are locked intently on mine. The way his jaw is tight, anticipating what exactly I'm going to agree to let this become. And his hand stays against my cheek, heating the side of my face as I slowly lean in against him.

I have walls. I know I do. I keep them up to guard my heart from the inevitable let down it's become accustomed to. I keep the ones I love close, but not so close that they can completely destroy me.

But standing here in Max's arms, my walls have shattered around us. I'm here, letting him see all of me. And as scary as that should be, I feel safe in his grasp.

I pull him tighter against me, bringing our faces back together, inhaling slightly before whispering, "Me too. But you have to promise me something first." His brows pull together, the cutest question laced behind his eyes. "You have to promise not to use my weakness for these wildflowers against me. They can't be used as apology flowers. They deserve more than that." I smile.

"Who says I was apologizing?"

"Your eyes."

He smiles, reaching to tuck my hair behind my ear again. "How about I-can't-stop-thinking-about-you flowers then? Does that do them justice?"

My smile widens, the glittering gleam filling my eyes. "Only if they're wildflowers. From this very spot."

"I wouldn't go anywhere else. But you should know I think about you a lot."

"Then it's a good thing I love these flowers."

His smile is brief, a moment of reciprocated joy before he drops his eyes to my lips, taking one small breath before he brings them back to mine.

And Lord help me, I love his lips.