We enter the house, where my grandmother is already waiting for us at the table. The air is filled with a warm, cozy atmosphere, mixed with a light hint of anticipation, "because this place has always been for family gatherings and little secrets."
"Good evening," Maxim says to her, his voice calm and respectful, as if he wants to show that he values this space and the people in it.
"Good. Are you staying with us for long?" she asks, smiling mysteriously, as if she knows something she is keeping to herself. Something soft and warm flickers in her eyes—I think that seeing our kiss has made her happy for us, even if she doesn't say it out loud.
"Not with you, but with my beloved girls—forever," he replies, and sincerity, tenderness, a promise to stay close, resonates in his voice.
"I'm a girl too, by the way. Love me the same," Grandma says jokingly, her eyes sparkling with amusement and a light playfulness.
"You are also important to me," he says, his words filled with respect and gratitude, touching her deeply.
I walk over to Maxim and place my hand on his head, stroking it gently, as if transmitting all my love and support. My heart fills with warmth, and a quiet calm spreads inside me, as if all the tension in the world vanishes for a moment. My fingers slowly run through his hair, trying to convey all the care and tenderness I feel for him. I want him to feel that I am here, ready to support and embrace him at any moment. A soft, almost invisible bond hangs in the air between us, filling me with tender hope and excitement.
"Sit on my lap," he says quietly, a slight smile in his voice, and I feel so small and protected.
I lean toward him and whisper,
"Don't misbehave, Rebel Boy," playing with his hair, reminding him that sometimes he is too naughty. My beloved smiles even more, and a spark of joy shines in his eyes.
"Grandma, can you watch Mary? We need to be gone for a couple of hours, maybe until morning," I say uncertainly, trying not to show all my anxiety and worry.
"I understand, young love. But I want to ask, Katrinochka, will you stay with Maxim at my place or are you going back already?" Grandma asks, her voice soft and caring, her gaze full of tenderness and wisdom.
I look at my man, seeking an answer in his eyes, and he calmly says,
"I don't mind if you stay with her, if you want. But personally, I need to go to the university on Monday, so I can't stay for long. Sorry if that's a problem."
"I think we'll discuss it tomorrow, but today we should go."
Grandma smiles, her words full of confidence and warmth.
"Alright, go ahead. I'll watch Mary," she agrees, and I feel gratitude and relief.
I kiss her goodbye, feeling the depth of family love, and Maxim and I go outside. The fresh evening air is lightly cool, and I exhale with relief. He takes my hand, and we walk slowly to his car. His touch is warm and confident, like a promise that everything will be alright.
"It's so good that you're in the car today, not on the motorcycle," I admit honestly, smiling slightly, feeling my heart calm next to him.
"I thought you liked holding me from behind for so long," he says with a smile, opening the door for me, tenderness and light teasing in his voice.
"That's true, but the rest was awful," I say with a smile, reminding both him and myself that life always has room for the funny, the serious, and the moments that bring us closer.
We get into the car and drive. Suddenly, he looks at me, and a spark of determination flashes in his eyes—so vivid and strong that my heart involuntarily beats faster. He sharply turns onto a road that leads far from the usual path, as if trying to escape not only physically, but from everything that has held us back before. Around us is only a field—endless and quiet, as if the world itself has paused, waiting for our next move. In the distance, only a few houses appear, barely visible silhouettes, and we feel like we are alone on the entire planet, hidden from everyone and everything.
"Why did we stop?" I ask, surprised and a little anxious, my heart tightening from uncertainty.
"I can't wait until the hotel," he answers briefly, impatience mixed with a deep desire to be closer resonating in his voice. Every word carries a tense spark, awakening an inexplicable excitement in me.
After these words, he unbuckles his seatbelt and carefully reclines our seats. Our backs fall, creating space for actions that once seemed impossible here, in the cramped car. His movements are full of sharp tension—as if trying to seize every moment, not missing a second filled with passion. Maxim kneels on his seat, moves closer to me, and kisses me. If I had been against making love in the car, after this kiss everything around us ceases to exist. At that moment, nothing remains except the two of us—no thoughts, no fears, no time—only the pure flow of emotions crashing like a storm.
His actions are chaotic, as if he has lost control of himself. One moment he kisses me passionately on the lips, then switches to gentle touches on my neck, causing a slight shiver that runs through my entire body like an electric current. His hands find no rest either: first they squeeze my chest, giving warmth and confidence, then try to undo my zipper, but don't finish, switching to gentle strokes on my back, as if afraid to disturb this fragile yet so important intimacy. Everything happens quickly, with excitement and almost panicked craving for closeness—as if Rebel Boy is trying to absorb every second filled with love.
"Wait, Max," I say, trying to calm this whirlwind of emotions, my voice trembling but filled with a sincere request for a small pause.
"You don't want to?" he asks with confusion, looking me straight in the eyes, as if afraid of losing me in that very moment.
"I do, but…" I begin, but he interrupts me, not letting me finish, his voice becoming more insistent.
"Not in the car, right? Then we'll go to the hotel or to our place," he babbles, his voice full of impatience and excitement, as if fearing that each second of delay is a loss.
I cover his mouth with my hand to bring silence for at least a second, allowing myself to collect my thoughts. My hand, touching his lips, is both soft and decisive—a sign that right now we just need silence to find answers and understand what to do next.
"Let me speak," I say angrily but with love, exhaling and trying to regain control, despite the whirlwind of feelings. "It's not about the place. What's wrong with you? Your actions are too intense, as if you…" I try to find words to describe his inner state, feeling an invisible wall stretching between us.
"As if I'm trying to do everything at once," Maxim interrupts, exhaustion and worry barely hidden in his voice.
"Yes. What's wrong? Is it because of me?" I ask, anxious, my heart ready to break from uncertainty.
"Not exactly. It's just that it feels like you might disappear or leave," he admits quietly, almost whispering, "so I try to do everything I want at once, afraid there won't be another chance later."
I take his face in my hands, making him look me straight in the eyes. In this moment, I want to convey all the confidence and love that lives inside me, to embrace him with my soul.
"I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere from you. We're together again, and this time—forever. So calm down, and let's finally make love for the first time in so many years," I say to him, speaking the purest truth I carry in my heart, feeling how my words fill both of us with warmth and hope.
"You want to make love with me?" my Rebel Boy asks with a wide smile, joy and relief dancing in his eyes, as if a heavy burden has been lifted from him.
"Yes, my love. I want us to share our love today," I whisper, filling every word with warmth and sincerity, with feelings that cannot be hidden.
"You are my Rebel Girl," he smiles, and in that there is tenderness and infinite respect, a quiet victory over all fears and doubts.
"And you are my Rebel Boy," I reply, kissing him, trying to convey all the love and passion burning inside me, a flash of light that warms us in this moment.