Title: The First Time…
Disclaimer: The characters of "Roswell" belong to Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, WB, and UPN. They are not mine and no infringement is intended.
Summary: Max reminisces about his life with Liz.
Author's Note: Warning: angsty.
I remember it like it was yesterday.
The first time ever I saw your face.
One glance at your dark, fiery eyes, shooting daggers at me when I accidentally bumped into you in the middle of the campus coffee bar that cold Thursday morning, and I was hooked. You were only eighteen back then, two years younger than me, but I fell in love with you almost instantly.
Unfortunately, the feeling wasn't mutual. First you simply stared down at your now coffee-stained white top in shock, then you glared up at me in anger with those beautiful, flashing eyes and proceeded to curse me out, not only for giving you 'first-degree burns', but also for ruining your brand new, clean top too.
Now, usually I would have snapped right back, sarcastically informing you that I wasn't the only one not looking where I was going and that maybe you ought to pay more attention, but although I opened my mouth to do so, one look at your gorgeous face, framed by that beautiful long, shiny chocolate-coloured hair I love so much and I froze, unable to do much more than stare at you, my mouth hanging open in awe.
When I didn't say anything at first, you only became more worked up, ranting heatedly - something about 'typical man', 'bad manners' and 'no respect', but I wasn't listening; I was too busy staring, my infatuation with you just beginning.
However, before I could find my tongue and apologise to you profusely, you apparently decided that I wasn't worth your time any longer and so stomped off, out of the coffee shop, leaving me to stare after you like a lovesick puppy.
I didn't see you again for almost two months.
But that didn't stop me from thinking about you constantly.
The first time ever I saw your face
I thought the sun rose in your eyes
The first time ever I asked you out, it was in that same coffee bar – the very next time I saw you, two months later - and you turned me down flat without a second thought. Your lips curled up into a disgusted sneer at the mere thought of spending time alone with me and you spat out a myriad of reasons why you would never even consider going on a date with a guy like me. At the time, I had no idea what you meant by that – I could only guess that after our last unfortunate meeting and my inability to form words, you had come to the conclusion that I was just some dumb, ill-mannered college guy who treated women like dirt. Which was completely not the case at all.
This time, however, I did find my voice and I told you that you were making a big mistake and that I was not gonna give up on you just because you'd said no at first. At that, though, you rolled your eyes in annoyance and told me exactly where I could stick it, before flicking your hair angrily and stalking out of the coffee shop yet again. As you left, I did something I should have done two months ago and apologised for spilling coffee on you before. But you just ignored me and kept on walking.
You thought that by getting pissed off and angry with me, I would get the hint, but the truth is, it only made me want you more.
And the moon and stars were the gifts you gave
To the dark and the empty skies.
The first time ever I kissed your lips, it was the most erotic moment of my life up until that point. It happened exactly four weeks to the day after you first turned me down. In that time, I'd managed to track you down via a mutual friend, who told me your name – Elizabeth – and your major – Biology – and I'd been 'conveniently' bumping into you every few days.
Each time I approached you and tried to convince you that we'd be good together, you were even more vocal in your hatred of me, which in turn got me worked up – in more ways than one – and I would snap back at you in turn. Looking back, it was obvious that our heated arguments were just a form of verbal foreplay, but back then you were adamant that you didn't want anything to do with me and refused to acknowledge otherwise.
But the more you denied it, the more I knew I wanted you and the more I retaliated against your verbal attacks on me, until one day, when we were exchanging barbs in the corridor outside the large Biology lecture hall, something inside me just snapped and I couldn't stop myself from pressing you against the wall, taking your beautiful face in my hands and kissing you fervently.
You resisted at first, shocked at my forwardness, but as I poured all of my pent-up emotion and need into that kiss, you began to respond. Within moments, your arms were around me, your warm body pressed against mine as you kissed me back with wild abandon.
I still get shivers down my spine when I think back to that first kiss.
And the first time ever I kissed your mouth
I felt the earth move in my hands
The first time ever I took you out on a date, it was just two days after that electrifying kiss we shared in that corridor. I was so nervous – after weeks of pursuing you, after weeks of rejection, I'd finally managed to get you to agree to a date – and now that it was finally happening, I had no idea what to do with myself. I'd been so adamant that you were the one for me and that I had to have you, I realised that I hadn't taken the time to find out anything about you. I didn't know what you liked to eat, or what movies you liked… or if you even liked movies at all.
I spent hours of trying to decide where to take you on that first date. I discarded the 'dinner and a movie' idea almost immediately, deciding that it was too cliché, but when I wasn't any closer to a better idea six hour later – two hours before I was supposed to be picking you up – I ended up going with 'dinner and a movie' after all. I figured it was the safest choice – dinner would give us the chance to talk, but then if that went badly and we ended up fighting like usual, then the movie would be a welcome distraction.
It turned out I needn't have worried; you loved the small Mexican place I took you to and while I admit that the conversation didn't run all that smoothly during the meal, the chemistry we'd had during that kiss was definitely still present. As a result, although the movie did prevent us from getting into yet another heated argument, we were anything but uncommunicative during the screening.
That night I committed my first act of major public indecency.
Like the trembling heart of a captive bird
That was there at my command, my love.
The first time ever I made love to you, it was a warm night in May – the last day of finals and the last night before you left to go home for the summer, while I stayed at the college, working a full-time summer job on campus. We'd both been so stressed with work during the last couple of weeks that we hadn't spent much time together and any time we had been together was spent arguing heatedly about stupid little things, which only served to fuel my desire for you.
So when you turned up on my doorstep that last night in a skimpy summer dress and sandals, my body reacted instantly to your presence. I opened the door wider and you stepped inside slowly and deliberately, leaving me staring after you as you removed your thin jacket and placed it on the arm of the couch.
You turned to face me, gazing up at me with those dark eyes and I almost lost it right there, but then you spoke and my heart sank. You said that this wasn't working and you began to list all the reasons we shouldn't be together, stating that our relationship was a mistake. I began to lose my temper with you then. After all it had taken to get to you go out with me, after three months of being in this exciting, intense relationship, alternating between arguing and making out, and now you wanted to end things just because we were going to be in separate cities for the summer?
No, I wasn't going to accept that, I argued… and you argued right back that this wasn't just up to me and that it was your decision too. The dispute quickly escalated until we were practically shouting at each other, but when you finally lost your temper and raised your hand to slap me, I grabbed your wrist and pulled you to me, crushing you against me and pressing my lips to yours with a forcefulness I hadn't realised I possessed.
When you went limp in my arms just seconds later, succumbing to my kiss, I knew then that you didn't really want to break up. You were just scared that we wouldn't survive the next three months apart and so decided to end things before they turned sour. I spent the next few minutes convincing you, between heated kisses and frantic removal of clothes, that this wasn't the case.
When we were both naked and gasping for more, I took you into my arms, carried you into my bedroom and spent the next few hours proving to you exact how good we were together. That night you made me see stars – I'll never forget that night for as long as I live.
That night was also the first time ever I told you I loved you.
And the first time ever I lay with you
I felt your heart so close to mine
The first time ever I proposed to you, it was a cold winter's day – three years to the day after we first met and I ruined your top with coffee. In fact, we were in that very same coffee shop on the university campus, where you were still a student and I had graduated two years prior, but still lived and worked in the city. It was late in the evening, near to closing time and we were the only two customers left. We were sitting at a small table in the centre of the café, sipping mugs of steaming hot chocolate and you looked so happy that I couldn't hold out any longer.
I slipped my hand from yours, reached into my coat pocket, pulling out the small velvet box that had been sitting in there for several days, waiting for the right moment. Smiling gently at you, I slid down onto one knee before you, took your hand in mine and asked for your hand in marriage.
Of course, you said no.
Truthfully, I'd sort of been expecting that. After all, our relationship had never been easy – we were both outspoken and hot-headed, sometimes too much so – but that only made for such a wonderfully intense, passionate connection that I loved it.
So I didn't give up. I kept on asking you to marry me, over and over again until you finally said yes.
We were married on a beautiful, sunny summer's day in June, a month after your college graduation. You looked so beautiful walking down that aisle that I fell in love with you all over again. It was a perfect day, one I will cherish in my heart until my dying day.
And I knew our joy would fill the earth
The first time ever I found out you were pregnant was one of the best days of my life, second only to our wedding day and the first time we made love. I returned home from work that Tuesday evening to find you sitting forlornly on the couch, a small plastic stick in your shaking hand. You had tears in your eyes as you looked up at me and my heart skipped a beat as I saw what was in your hand and I couldn't stop the grin from lighting up my face.
But something was wrong. You didn't seem happy or excited about it. But when I asked what was wrong, you snapped at me, obviously stressed and possibly even in shock. You stood up and began pacing across the living room agitatedly, but when I tried to calm you down, you lost your temper, ranting at me about responsibility and timing and the future. I caught you in my arms, pressing soft kisses to your lips. You tried to pull away, but I wouldn't let you. You began to cry against me and I held you, rocking you in my arms as you came to terms with the fact that you were pregnant.
When you eventually calmed down and looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes, my breath caught in my throat and I had to kiss you, properly this time. 'We're having a baby,' you breathed in wonder and I smiled in agreement leaning down to kiss you again. You clung to me then, wrapping your arms tightly around me as our embrace became more intense, and we made love right there on the living room floor.
And last and last and last till the end of time
The first time ever I saw our daughter, I was so overwhelmed that I couldn't form words. You smiled up at me in exhaustion as I held her, this tiny, helpless human being, in my arms. The labour had been hard on you and you definitely let me know exactly what you thought of my lovemaking skills during some of the more painful contractions. However, instead of trying to placate you, as most loving husbands would do, I knew that what you needed right then was some form of normalcy. So, I responded with a good-natured jab and we essentially argued her way through the contractions. It just felt so normal, so right, to do so.
'What shall we call her?' you asked sleepily, as I took a seat beside you on the bed, cradling the baby in my arms so you could see her too.
'How about Jessica?" I suggested, gazing down at her with a smile.
'Jessica," you tried out. 'Jessica… I like it.'
'Jessica it is,' I smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to her soft head and then leaning down to kiss your lips softly. 'I love you both so much' I whispered against your lips.
The first time ever I saw your face,
The first time ever I saw your face I fell so deeply in love with you that you became an integral part of my life. I loved you when you said you hated me, I loved you when we argued, when we were screaming at each other like there was no tomorrow; I loved you when you turned down my proposal, I loved you even more when you finally accepted; I fell in love with you all over again on our wedding day, and again when Jessica was born, and again when Sarah was born two years after Jessica.
And now, fourteen years later, I love you more than ever. And I wish to God that I could tell you that, that I could tell you every day for the next fifty years. But as I watch the pallbearers lower you into the ground, my arms around our teenage daughters, hugging them to my body, the tears begin to fall and I realise I can never say those words to you ever again.
A sob escapes my lips, my heart aching for you, for your touch just one more time, and as Jessica and Sarah cling to me tightly, crying into my shirt, I look up to the sky, silently asking for the millionth time why you had to be taken away from me so soon.
Why did you have to be on that street, at that time? You weren't supposed to be there. You should have been at home that Saturday afternoon, with me and Jessica and Sarah, instead of crossing that street.
If you had been, you would still be here today. And I would be able to experience many more first times with you, my darling Elizabeth Evans.
I will love you forever.
The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face, Leona Lewis: .com/watch?v=MKqr4F9Ilis