"Come on guys, let's get started," Maxwell's mate Madison said, clapping her hands as Maxwell and another taller boy turned to look at her. They were the only ones in the practice room aside from me. Somewhere between their bickering about setting up, Maxwell turned to me, smiling before turning his attention back to his mates. He was holding his cello by its neck. He then moved, heading to stand behind his female friend who had a violin with her. She was sitting down, while Maxwell and his other friend sat behind her with their cellos.
I was sitting behind one of the desks they'd pushed aside to make free space at the center of the room. It was about five in the evening, so the lighting in the room was a little dim.
"Are we still changing the tempo?" the tall dark person behind Maxwell asked, and the girl nodded in response.
"Of course, we are. I thought we discussed this in the group chat last night," she said before letting out a sigh that made Maxwell chuckle. She had green-dyed hair and big hoop earrings. I was sincerely curious about how she was going to work with her violin bow with the number of rings she had on her fingers. She looked a bit out of place in the middle of the two boys — like she belonged in another department. At first glance, I would have placed her as a fine art student, to be honest.
After a while of bickering amongst themselves, they started playing the piece they'd put together. The girl with her violin, and Maxwell and the other boy with their cellos accompanying the music. I could feel my cheeks warm up as they continued to play. I watched as Maxwell handled his bow. I watched the way his fingers moved with it to press and move against the cello's strings. He was still as good as when he was in high school — he was better. His style had matured.
Did he practice during summer? I wondered, watching him play with his friends, his leg was tapping against the room's floorboard as they played, and his head moved with the rhythm as one hand handled the bow, and the fingers of his other hand pressed against the strings. They paused when one of them made a mistake, and they laughed about it before deciding to take it from the top.
When they were done with their practice they talked for a bit as they packed up their instruments. I got up from the seat I had been sitting in before walking over to Maxwell who was now zipping up the black case of his Cello.
"That was great," I said, watching as he looked up before smiling at me. I smiled back, but my eyes moved away due to the odd flutter in my chest at his stare. Damn, I hadn't gotten used to looking him in the eyes yet.
"See you around Maxwell!" the girl from his practice said, making me look up to find her waving towards Maxwell. She was by the door with the other guy. Maxwell waved back, and she smiled at him before she and the other guy left the room together, leaving me and Maxwell alone in the practice room. After a while of just watching Maxwell check if his cello was in good condition, I spoke up.
"What is it for?"
"What?" Maxwell asked, turning to me when I asked my question.
I shrugged. "The practice, what is it for?" I repeated, making my question clearer.
"Oh," Maxwell said, as he lifted his cello's case to his back by its strap. "We have a class presentation soon. It counts towards our GPA," he replied, making me nod. Maxwell was wearing the school sweater over a pair of ripped jeans as usual. I've decided to accept it as his signature look, but that didn't stop me from teasing him about it.
"Don't you have any other clothes?" I asked with a small chuckle, making Maxwell roll his eyes at me as we made our way out of the practice room. The hallways had dim lighting since most of the lights hand been turned off. The halls were also quiet since there were no students in sight. It was late in the evening, and apparently, the music building didn't host any night classes, so the place was deserted past seven PM.
"I wear a different shirt every day, my sweater just hides it," he said, making me chuckle as we walked through the halls. "It's fall so I'm always wearing a sweater. I'll swoon you with my fashion sense when it's spring, I promise," he said, making me laugh even harder.
"Like the one you had in high school?" I asked with a grin, referring to his plain T-shirts, and plain jeans. That had basically been all he'd worn throughout senior year. I watched as Maxwell ran a hand through his head of red hair at my comment. He chuckled, turning to me as he bit his bottom lip.
"Well..." he trailed, and both of us started laughing.
We continued walking, heading down at the stairs and towards the main entrance. I staggered a bit, feeling a bit surprised when I felt Maxwell grab my hand.
"Wait," he muttered when I looked over at him with wide eyes, wondering what he was up to. He smiled, leaning in to peck my cheek before pulling away and my face warmed up when I understood. I didn't even bother questioning him, and I let him pull me by my hand and I followed him. He then led me to the nearest hallway with lecture rooms, and he took a hold of the closest one's handle, opening it before pulling me inside along with him.
He moved to close the door behind us, before dropping his cello's case and moving over to me. He reached out, holding on to my shoulders before he marched us to the edge of the wall, pressing my back against it then holding my face in his hands. "A minute ago, you were using your big mouth to make fun of me. Do you have anything to say now mister?" he asked in a cartoonish voice, making me smile before I chuckled, unable to keep it in. His lame comment had lightened the mood, and it didn't feel so odd anymore that he was holding on to my face and running his thumbs across my cheeks.
When my chuckling died down I stared at his brown eyes, watching as he smiled at me. He ran the base of his thumb over my lips before leaning forward to press a kiss against them. I eased into it, following his motion, and soon we'd built a steady open mouth kiss. The room was quiet except for the sound of our kissing, and my odd sighs that punctuated our heavy breathing.
He didn't bother tying me up. That's new. I thought to myself as we kissed. Though my hands weren't tied up I avoided reaching out to hold him. I didn't want to freak him out, so I just clenched my hands by my sides as I let him control every little movement.
"Mhm," I mumbled into the kiss when I felt him pull at my hair a bit. It hurt, but not it wasn't too painful. Maxwell didn't let go of the handful of hair he had in his grip. He pulled me closer by it, tilting my head to the side as our lips parted. He was kissing my neck, and then my chin and cheeks.
"Maxwell?" I asked, wondering what he wanted me to do with my hands. His kissing had become less aggressive — it was softer. I was still trying to avoid touching him. He'd told me he didn't like that, and I didn't want to upset him or freak him out.
"Bite your sweater."
"What?" Maxwell didn't give me the time to react and soon he was on his knees trying to undo my zipper.
"Wait!" I yelped, feeling panicked. He let go of my jeans, but he was still kneeling on the ground. His eyes looked cloudy, and I wasn't sure what to make of his expression. It looked curious and needy — like he was trying to carry out an experiment but wasn't patient.
"You don't want that?" he asked, making my face warm up. I looked away, trying not to dwell on the fact that Maxwell was kneeling in front of me, or the fact that my zipper was undone, exposing my boxers. Or worse still, I tried to put the thought of what he'd wanted to do in the back of my mind. I didn't answer him immediately, allowing the silence to rule for a while.
"it's not that I don't want it. I — what about you?" I asked. Maxwell just stared at me before biting his bottom.
"I want to do it," he said.
"Maxwell..." I trailed before letting out a sigh. "I'm sorry this is too fast; can we slow down a bit?" I asked, admitting that I was a bit panicked before I looked back down at him.
"Sure," he said, and I watched as he got up. He was on the same level as me now. He cocked his head to the side, giving me an expression that I couldn't really read. "Sorry about that," he muttered after a while of just staring, and I watched as he ran his fingers through his hair.
"It's okay. It's just that — we don't really know each other that much yet, you know?" I mentioned zipping up my pants. I watched as the corner of his lips curved into a small smile.
"I understand. I was just excited — sorry," he apologized again as I leaned off the cream painted wall. Maxwell walked away from me, picking up his cello's case he'd left by the door. I walked over to him, and we both left the room together soon after. We didn't say much to each other on our walk back to the residence building. Maxwell had given me a small smile as I'd dropped off at my floor, but he didn't text me when I got to my room like he usually did.
I'm confused. I thought, going through my messages over and over again even though I wasn't getting any notifications. I was wondering if I said something wrong, or if Maxwell was feeling embarrassed. He had acted weird back in the lecture room, and it made me worried.
ME:
Hey Maxwell.
We should talk.
Like really talk if you know what I mean. I don't understand you sometimes and it gets a bit overwhelming and confusing.
Get back to me when you feel you're comfortable, okay?
WED, 7:45 PM.
I sighed, pressing send on the last message before putting my phone away. I didn't want to lose my mind and giving Maxwell some space to think seemed like a good idea.
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