A/N: Hey everyone! I know that this has been long overdue. I'm sorry for the delay. I had a crazy busy week followed by a physically and emotionally taxing one. Some things in life hit you hard when you least expect it and the only thing you can do is step back a little and take a breath.
Anyway, this wasn't an easy chapter to write, I'll be honest. I had plotted the rest of the story but after that kiss, and all the things said between them, I wasn't sure where i'd find Max and Luke. The beauty about them though is that they have a certain bond that will stay resilient through everything the future has in store for them.
I hope you enjoy this one. Suddenly, this thing between them isn't going to be solely up to them now. There are some old and new players coming that could either push them together or push them apart.
***
If this were a book, or a movie, or a TV drama, there would be this stage after The Kiss called The Awkward.
While I had never in my entire existence thought that my life would resemble any of the three aforementioned fictional types of entertainment, despite the strange phenomenon of Luke Hedenby literally hurtling his way straight into it, there was definitely The Awkward after The Kiss.
The Kiss, if I managed to forget what came before and after it, felt every bit like the kind of life-altering, toe-curling, heart-racing moment you’d find cliched to death in romantic fiction.
It was perfect—hungry, desperate—exactly the way I felt about Luke and this maddening attraction I’d tried to name so many things but the truth.
If this were a picture, I’d crop out everything else that made that perfect moment into what it actually was in reality—the perfect mistake.
Friends kiss, sure. After they do, maybe they’ll laugh about it. Or maybe they’ll find it all kinds of wrong like kissing your sibling. Or maybe they’ll find themselves turned inside out, never able to step back behind the line they should’ve never crossed.
The kiss with Luke, well, there was nothing funny about it. It definitely did not feel like kissing a brother even though I could only imagine how disgusting that would be. And I was definitely turned inside out, up and down, sideways and under, not just unable to step back behind the line but suddenly free-falling as if I’d stepped backed into nothing but the deep unknown.
The only humor that could be found in this situation was the tragic sort because the only thing worse about not having what you wanted was having had it and wondering if it would ever be yours again. There was a certain sweet agony about wanting to turn the other direction and run but staying put instead and both pretending that you could will things back to the way they used to be.
I wouldn’t have minded some space but Luke had different ideas.
He called me bright and early on Monday to see if he could pick me up so we could grab coffee at Cleo’s together. I said ‘No, thank you’ and after a dragged out, very reluctant pause, he acquiesced. At lunchtime, he showed up at the cafeteria and sat with me and Jillian who happily and obliviously (maybe not so obliviously) chattered on about everything and nothing. Luke and I were both content to sit in polite silence. Later that afternoon, he showed up at my desk as I was getting ready to leave and tried to talk me into letting him drive me home.
I was a little angry because I did not sign up for this kind of torture. I didn’t want to sit there, with him so close, remembering his lips, or feeling the scorching fire he’d started somewhere inside of me that still continued to burn. If I wanted that kind of pain, I would’ve hacked off my right hand. So I might have snapped at him about taking the bus home because it made me think—something I had to start doing again for myself.
He didn’t call me Tuesday morning but there was a fresh cup of coffee at my desk when I got in. Tucked under it was a note that said ‘I’m sorry’ and I crumpled it up and tossed it to the trash. What was there to be sorry for? That we managed to want the person we shouldn’t have ever wanted in the first place? That we compromised the only thing we could promise each other because we were afraid of more?
The only way to have more is to give something up. And what you give up tells you what the worth is of the thing you gained.
That was something my grandfather told me years ago, when I was contemplating the intimidating task of securing myself a college scholarship, but it somehow worked with the awkward fit of mine and Luke’s non-relationship.
He didn’t show up for lunch that day, when I’d actually totally prepared for it. Ryan and the suddenly not-so-oblivious Jillian might have hinted at a thing or two about a brewing calamity they did not want to be caught in. When I walked out of the building later that day, Luke's car was parked out front, waiting.
It was late—about early evening, actually—because I worked on my pitch for the brand loyalty project that Bryce had officially launched with the marketing department on Monday. He was forming a separate committee that will look after the entire project—from outlining the formal detailed proposal to implementing every stage of the tiered initiative. He didn't quite say it outright but he opened the pitch session to everyone in the marketing team and there might just be a chance that he would be picking the members based on their pitch. It would be a tremendous opportunity to be involved in a project this big and important—we could succeed or fail at it but still, it would give us visibility to every level in the company. Theodora had sneered about it since the announcement, muttering under breath when only the junior staff (me, especially) were around to hear, and saying that we shouldn't waste our time because Bryce wouldn't entrust such a big project to amateurs. I didn't care. I had a chance and damn if I didn't take it.
The window on the backseat rolled down and Luke's head popped out. He smiled and told me to get in but I declined and started heading toward the bus stop. He got out and ran after me and because I was tired and hungry and mentally drained from my day, I wasn't very nice, or subtle, when I told him, "The last thing I want today, Luke, is to hurt my head more by asking myself, once again, why we're doing this."
"We're doing this because we're friends and we're there for each other," he bit out. He was obviously pissed but officially choosing the friend zone after a very non-platonic kiss was his idea.
"Well, then be a dear friend and be there for me when I ask for some time and space because I don't have the energy to deal with this right now," I said, shortly, I might add, before clambering into a bus that had just heaved to a stop in front of us. I could see him standing on the sidewalk, his desolate figure shrinking further away as the bus drove off. He looked as alone as I felt.
The next morning, our pitches went in. It didn't help my dour mood that I saw Theodora batting her lashes at Bryce by the door of his office, grinning from ear to ear so sweetly you could almost smell it like an overripe candy-scented perfume on a humid day.
I buried myself in work, trying to quell the anxiety of fighting an inevitable fate and losing to Theodora, and ignoring the ache that had settled in the pit of my stomach since Saturday night and never left.
Peggy called me half an hour before lunch to ask if I wanted to go out for a bite to eat with her.
I sighed and slumped back in my seat and flatly confronted her, "This feels very much like a repeat of a day from not-so-long ago. Please tell Luke—and I know he's sitting right in front of you listening and probably making unintelligible hand gestures—that no, I do not want to be cajoled, coaxed or guilt-tripped into going out to lunch with him. I foresee being incredibly busy in the next few weeks that future dining plans together won't be too likely either."
Peggy was dead silent for a moment—and I wondered if I'd been too hasty—but she, too, sighed in the next second.
"He's a very stubborn man, Max," the woman said softly. "Not just with you or the people close to him. He's the most stubborn with himself."
"A trait I can definitely understand and relate to," I agreed, rubbing the space between my brows to ward off a headache. As my eyes briefly closed, I imagined what Luke's face must be like as he sat there listening to the woman who'd been almost a mother to him his whole life, talking about him with a perspective he'd never had of himself.
"Which is why I don't blame him," I added with a little more gentleness this time. "And why he shouldn't blame me either."
"Alright, Max. I'll stay out of this," Peggy said, a smile in her voice. "Enjoy your lunch and a have a good rest of your day."
I was exhausted.
If this was anything like the beginnings of romance, or relationships, or the even more unfortunate version of this malady called unrequited love, then I didn't want any of it. I'd been wise in staying away from it and maybe it wasn't too late to untangle myself from this intricate mess Luke and I had unintentionally created.
Before my day ended, Alex texted, asking me if I wanted to go out for some dinner and drinks after his practice. He'd sent me something similar on Monday and I had the easy excuse of working on my pitch then. Distraction didn't cure anything but it staved off the symptoms so I gave it some serious consideration. Alex was easy, familiar company, even after seven years, but if he was interested in anything more than catching up and becoming friends again, I wasn't so sure that the best exit out of a complicated relationship was to start a new one with someone else. So I texted him back no and muttered under my breath that I should probably start naming my future cats now because at this rate, they were the only company I could see myself having thirty years from now.
When I was walking down the front steps at the end of my day and Luke suddenly appeared out of nowhere, cheerfully strolling with me to the bus stop and making attempts at amicable small talk, I nearly bit my tongue off as I stifled a scream of frustration.
"I know you're my boss and all but a temporary restraining order is not far from my mind right now, Luke," I said as I yanked my tote over my shoulder angrily and sped up my stride even as he kept up with it easily. "Why the hell are you following me now?"
"I'm taking the bus home with you," he insisted, openly ignoring my black mood. "This seems to be my only opportunity left to talk to you so that you can stop being mad at me."
"Me? Mad at you?" I scoffed. "What makes you think that?"
"Max, listen," he said, sighing out loud and snatching me by the elbow which effectively held me in place. "This is not what I had in mind when I decided that we were both better off staying as friends. Friends don't fight like this."
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, yes, friends who kiss when they shouldn’t have and promptly regret it do—especially when one of them can’t take the hint that maybe they need to back away from the situation a little bit.”
Luke scowled. “Just because we can’t go faster doesn’t mean we have to slow down.”
I couldn’t help but snort at that. “So even if we’re heading for certain death, we just keep going?”
Luke let out an exaggerated sigh. “Max, don’t be so dramatic.”
“Says the guy who’s been stalking me so much in the last three days one would almost think he couldn’t live without me,” I shot back, satisfied that my aim hit the mark when Luke’s cheeks tinged a shade of pink.
I expected a retort—or a denial at the very least—but he said nothing and just rocked back on his heels.
Pieces of the fresh wall around my heart crumbled at that and I sighed out loud, some of the fight in me draining away.
Why does this keep happening? One second I’m immovable. The next I’m caught under.
“What do you want, Luke?” I asked softly.
“Not this, that’s for sure,” he answered.
I shifted the strap of my bag on my shoulder, knowing that the uncomfortable weight wasn’t physical. “I’m giving you exactly what you asked for and what we can use a lot of right now—a healthy distance that will never confuse either of us ever again.”
“I’m not confused.”
I studied him for a second, finding no trace of doubt in his expression. In fact, only one thing stood out clearly—determination—fierce, almost furious.
My chest tightened at that.
“Right,” I said, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice. “You’re not confused at all. In fact, you’re quite certain of what you want—something you made very clear on Saturday night.”
And that choice is to not be with me.
It shouldn’t hurt because I had no plans to be with him when this all started. I only got all screwed up after he was with me in the last few weeks, in a way that wasn’t an actual relationship but felt like one, and I found myself wanting it. But there was no other name for the sharp sting his reminder left.
These games weren’t the kind someone of my inexperience should play unless they intended to lose.
And as someone who hadn’t won very much in life yet, I couldn’t afford to lose my heart.
But that heart practically slipped out of my hands when Luke reached out and brushed the back of his fingers on my cheek. “I know what I want, Max, and it’s the one thing I can’t have.”
Heat chased the trail of his fleeting touch and I turned away to sever the contact, fighting with all my might not to lean in and press my cheek against his hand.
“I have to go, Luke,” I said as I swallowed the lump in my throat with difficulty.
He nodded. “Let me take you home.”
I shook my head quickly. “Not a good idea.”
“Why not?” he asked. “I’ll keep my hands to myself. I won’t even inflict any more of my idiotic ramblings on you.”
I couldn’t fight the smile. “And here I thought you were being romantic, Luke.”
He gave me a reluctant smile back. “There’s a difference?”
My small smile broke into a grin because damn this man for being relentless. “Not a lot and that’s the scary part, I’m told.”
He laughed and I could almost detect the relief in the loose, hearty sound.
The bus rolled to a stop in front of us and I hung back in the line slightly as we waited for a few people to step off.
“I’ll ride the bus with you,” Luke said as he stood next to me. “To see you home safely.”
I looked up and in the golden stream of the late afternoon sun fading into dusk, his thick, dark hair gave a burnished glow. His eyes were the clear, bright blue of a lake in the summer—smiling and soft and tempting. With him standing close, our arms brushing against each other, I could feel his warmth and smell his familiar scent that had invaded my senses much like he had invaded my life. I remembered Saturday night and how perfect it felt to be caged in his arms as we kissed like it was breathing and my heart skipped a beat only to come back in a powerful pounding rhythm that almost had me clutching at my chest.
You’re too close, Max. Too close you can’t see anything else.
“I’m not going straight home,” I said, forcing the words out I didn’t know I was going to say a second ago. It was a bold move but it was the only I had to counter Luke’s determined pace to keep up with me. “I’m going to the Pacific Dome to watch Alex practice. And then we’re going out for dinner.”
“Oh.”
The sunset happened a little sooner in Luke’s eyes. His gaze had cooled and shuttered. There was a discernible tick on the side of his jaw as he clenched it. Even the warmth that had enveloped both of us seemed to have been sucked out of the air. He hadn’t moved a fraction of an inch but all of a sudden, he felt too far away.
“It’s just a casual dinner,” I hastened to add as if that would draw him back, which was stupid really because wasn’t the point of my little white lie to force that distance between us? “Between friends. Not a date-date.”
He managed a stiff half-nod before drawing a deep breath and physically removing himself from my side with a wide step back. “In that case, enjoy your evening, Max. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He started to turn away.
“Luke.”
He paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
My fingers clenched and unclenched on my sides as I struggled with what to do, the cluster of people by the bus door finally clearing and reminding me that I had to make a choice right now.
If I stripped down the complexities layered into all of this, I knew what my choice was.
He was standing two feet across from me, a world away.
But wanting someone was half the battle. They had to want you back, too, and be willing to do something about it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”
And before I could do anything stupid, like bite my tongue down and run to him, I whirled around and climbed into the bus, the door closing behind me in the nick of time.
I didn’t turn around or look over my shoulder knowing what I would see—my heart on the pavement where Luke stood, watching me go.
***
I have never been to Pacific Dome since I moved into the city but it had always been an architectural pride. The indoor arena could house about twenty thousand people, making it one of the largest in the country, but it was its sleek and modern design that made it extremely popular. Built on top of a hill, it was a giant glass dome surrounded by a ring of glass hexagons which housed numerous retail and dining spaces. At night, during a concert or an event, bright neon lights would glow from the dome and each hexagon, the colors streaming and swirling in mesmerizing patterns, lighting up the backdrop of the star-studded night sky.
I have only ever watched the festival of lights from afar but my life lately seemed to have become a series of firsts.
I wouldn’t have come at all if Alex had said no after I texted him while I was on the bus. I felt I needed to go, that it would somehow lessen the lie it had been at first to shake off Luke. Besides, I could use more than just the distraction—I could use a friend.
Alex gave me instructions as to which wing and private entrance to head for. There was a security desk guarding the door and after providing my ID and signing a guest log book, I was given a visitor’s pass and granted entry.
I didn’t really have a chance to fix myself up before coming here so I popped into the bathroom just down the hall. There was a woman there reapplying her lip gloss by the sink, all decked out in a little red dress and heels, her hair and makeup so perfectly glamorous she could’ve just walked straight off a fashion shoot. She gave me a curious look as I set myself next to her in front of the mirror. Being several inches shorter and outfitted in a simple, pale pink button-down shirt, a gray pencil skirt and a pair of low-heeled office pumps, I was way down in the glamour scale. I pinned back my wavy hair behind my ears and with my light foundation practically nonexistent after a work day, the most I could do with my face was blot the shine away and dab some tinted lip balm on my cheeks and mouth.
“Who do you work for?” the woman beside me asked, her eyes inspecting herself as she angled her compact this way and that.
“I’m sorry?”
She snapped her compact shut and slid it inside her little black purse with a golden chain strap. “Like whose assistant are you? I haven’t seen you here before.”
It rankled but it wasn’t the first time it happened to me so I just pressed my lips together as an attempt at a smile and shook my head. “I’m not anyone’s assistant. I’m here to see my friend, Alex.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Alex Rizzo?”
“Yes, that one.” I wanted to leave the conversation there as I concentrated trying to clean up the mascara lightly smudged along my lower lashes but the woman wasn’t done.
“I didn’t know you were Alex’s type,” she said smugly as she gave me a once-over. “But that explains a lot.”
I straightened and finally turned to look at her. “And what precisely does it explain?”
She met my eye boldly. Behind the false lashes, the thick layer of makeup and the silky straight brown-gold hair, the woman could be beautiful, almost young. Her hazel eyes were surprisingly soft with a smile although her lips were pursed in thought as she studied me.
“It explains Alex and why he is the way he is,” she said cryptically before extending a perfectly manicured hand to me. “I’m Zoe Abrams.”
The name sounded familiar somehow but I couldn’t place it.
“Maxine Moss,” I said as I shook her hand. “You can call me Max.”
“Come on,” she said as she stepped back. “You’ve most likely never been here before so I’ll walk you over to where you can sit and watch until the guys wrap up for the evening.”
I didn’t bother to ask her how she knew it was my first time there because Zoe Abrams didn’t seem to be the kind of woman who doubted for a second what she knew. She led, her posture perfect and her chin tipped up like a queen, and I followed closely behind her, somewhat grateful for her help but almost slightly mystified as to why she offered it in the first place.
We walked out into pretty much the rink-side viewing area, just a couple of seats behind the players bench. The place was mostly empty except for a few cleaners making their rounds and the support staff hanging out by the rink. The team was huddled on the ice as they listened to what looked like an intense discussion with a couple of men Zoe named as the head and assistant coaches.
There were a few women sitting behind the bench and chatting. They instantly paused when they saw us approach, making no attempt to conceal their assessing glance of me. Much like Zoe, they were all as well-dressed as mannequins on a designer shop window, looking down on an ordinary passer-by like me.
“Everyone, this is Alex’s friend, Max,” Zoe announced in a calm, confident tone before introducing the other women to me. They were either dating or married to one of the players in the team. I was curious who Zoe was linked to but I didn’t know her well enough to ask and she didn’t seem inclined to volunteer that information. I sat next to her at the end of that row, curbing my curiosity and focusing on Alex instead who’d spotted me and flashed me a grin. I smiled back and waved which seemed to have diverted his gaze to Zoe who was busy texting on her phone beside me. He looked puzzled, his brows furrowing, but his attention was drawn back to the coach who called his name out.
Hockey wasn’t a big sport where Alex and I came from and what little I knew of it, I picked up from passing conversations with my grandfather and Alex’s family whenever I swung by their general store. Even though I didn’t know or understand a lot of it, I didn’t mind the time passing as I watched the men skate rounds and play against each other on the ice for the remainder of the evening. Zoe, whenever she managed to tear her gaze away from her phone, would point different people to me and explain some basic hockey facts as if she already knew just how clueless I was about the sport. I was impressed that she knew as much as she did but if she was dating a hockey player, it wouldn’t be that impossible. She still hadn’t mentioned anyone though. She talked about the players as if she were familiar enough with them but nothing too notable that would hint at a more intimate relationship with any of them.
Alex was quite something to watch on the ice. He seemed larger and more intimidating in his full goalie uniform with the caged helmet and the oversized arm and leg guards, his movements swift but graceful, his focus so laser-like it was almost serene.
When practice was over, he waved at me before disappearing into the locker room with the rest of the team.
“I’m surprised you haven’t fainted to the ground yet,” Zoe said wryly as she took out a stick of gum and offered me another. I took it.
“Am I supposed to?” I asked, setting aside my behemoth tote and getting up to stretch my legs.
“You’re not swooning over Alex?” Zoe asked with mild disbelief, raising a brow at me. “Half the female population of this city is.”
And the other half is probably swooning over a certain young, handsome CEO. I’m on that other half.
Inwardly cursing myself for thinking of the one guy I’d gone here tonight to avoid, I pushed the voice out of my head and smiled at Zoe. “Well, Alex is pretty cute so that’s not a surprise. And he’s a really nice guy, too. We grew up in the same town. That’s how I know him. I think I might have already done my share of the swooning about seven years ago.”
Zoe smirked. “Don’t underestimate the power of a childhood crush. I hear it’s still responsible for a large percentage of adult relationships. It could definitely still lead to sex.”
I barely choked down a snort of laughter at that last sentence because honestly, the woman and I met each other no more than an hour and a half ago, but she just grinned and flipped her hair back in a practiced move before enlightening me on a full-blown lesson about the top five relationship-triggers so candid but in-depth it was almost like she was reading off a Cosmo magazine.
When the players started to trickle out of the locker room and into our area, Zoe got up and extended a a hand to me asking for my cellphone. She wasn’t the kind of person who would take no for an answer since you wouldn’t manage it with her anyway, so I handed it over and watched her type her info into it.
“Call me if you’re coming to a game or practice,” she said as she gave it back to me. In a much lower but still not very hushed voice, she added, “If I leave you alone, the witches I introduced you to earlier would stab you with looks that would leave you pin-cushioned like a voodoo doll. They think they’re a clique or something—like the real housewives of pro-hockey players—but I don’t let that kind of shit happen in my arena. So call me and I’ll back you up until they get over themselves.”
I blinked out of my daze and managed a half-nod. “Um, thank you, but I really could take care of myself, you know?”
Zoe smiled. “I know you can. You put up with me, after all. But just because you can doesn’t mean I don’t have to help.”
I rolled my eyes, resigned to her insistence, and smiled back. “Alright. I’ll call but only because you want in on the witch hunt.”
She chuckled and glanced over her shoulder just as Alex stepped out and scanned the area for us. “Mr. Nice Guy is here. I’ll see you around, Max.”
She didn’t even let me say goodbye. She just sauntered off, her steps slow and sexy and sure, only to get caught up in a bear hug by one of the players who spotted her. Zoe laughed and smacked him on the shoulder even as she demanded that he put her down right away. The guy did and with an open smile, she chatted with him and two other players.
“So how do you know Zoe Abrams?” was Alex’s first question as he fell into a step beside me, observing the odd group and the even odder woman at the center of it.
“Through you,” I answered, puzzled, especially when Zoe glanced at us and winked. I turned to Alex and found him frowning. “I ran into her in the woman’s bathroom and she led me here and introduced me to people. She seems to know everyone. She knows you, too.”
“She sure would because she hired me,” Alex said as he turned away to finally look at me. He was freshly showered, his hair still damp and slicked back that it curled at the nape of his neck, and his cheeks still a bit ruddy.
“She hired you?” I repeated in a surprised squeak that barely skated past everyone’s hearing. Alex cupped my elbow and gently steered us to a quieter corner. “Is she your boss?”
Alex sighed and nodded. “She’s Garrett Abrams’ daughter. He owns the team and he made his daughter its newest president less than a week ago.”
Now her name resurfaced in my memory. She was in that weekend fundraiser dinner as a guest but there was no mention of her being the team's president yet.
I snuck a glance at Zoe who was still talking to a bunch of players. “Wow. She seems really young.”
“She’s twenty-two.”
I scrunched up my nose. “And I can sense that you somehow think there’s problem with that fact.”
Alex shrugged. “She’s way too young to be making decisions at that level. This is not some game she can play. People’s lives and careers are at stake. An entire city’s heart is at stake. They’ve been all entrusted in her tiny little hands. That makes me very nervous.”
It was definitely unusual, I would grant it that, but I somehow admired Zoe for it.
“Yet you signed up to join the team,” I said and he wasn’t fond of that reminder because he scowled a little at me.
“It was too good an opportunity to pass,” he said tightly. “I haven’t regretted it yet but I keep worrying that I soon will.”
I smiled and gave clapped him on the arm. “Don’t brood a bad thing that hasn’t happened yet or may not happen at all.”
Alex’s expression softened and he sighed again. “You’re right. I should live in the moment.”
I struggled with the same thing most of the time so I was in no position to insist on it. “Maybe just a little.”
He smiled and offered his arm to me. “Why don’t we start with a big dinner? I’m starving. There’s a good Mexican restaurant just down the block from here if you like—burritos, tacos, nachos.”
“I’ll follow a trail of tortilla chips anywhere,” I chirped, looping my arm through his.
Before making our exit, we came over to quickly say hi to the rest of the team who had lingered. Alex introduced me to some of the players and the coaching staff. They were mostly polite except for a couple of guys who mischievously addressed me as ‘Ma’am’ and asked Alex if they could join him in detention with me. Zoe looked on with that permanent smirk on her face, smoothly calling out the two players who teased me and zipping their mouths shut with a stern look. Alex just gave her a cordial nod before leading me out to the hall.
"I didn't think I would enjoy watching your team practice but I actually had a good time there," I told Alex after we briefly stopped at the security desk to log out and return my visitor's pass. "Mostly because of Zoe's commentary but also because you guys seemed so intense on the ice. And this is just practice."
Alex angled me a curious smile. "So what made you change your mind?"
I shrugged. "Do I really need a reason?"
"No, but there's always a reason," he said as he led us to the underground parkade. "It doesn't matter to me. I'm just glad you're here."
I wanted to disagree.
To me, it mattered why someone was with you. It made all the difference.
But since I couldn't answer that question myself easily, I didn't press it.
I wasn’t very surprised when Alex motioned to his vehicle—an old and rugged Jeep. In jeans and a white shirt, he looked nothing like a well-paid, well-adored hockey star but that was just the kind of guy he’d always been. I felt a little less shabby next to him—as if we somehow made sense together. Not like when we were in the dreamy company of surreally beautiful people like Luke and Zoe who belonged to the glossy pages of their fabulous lives.
Spending time with Alex, stuffing our faces with burritos and talking candidly in a cozy booth at La Paez, felt comfortable and familiar as if we’d done this before. We talked about home and his family and people we knew, about college and all the things that filled the gap of the last seven years. In fact, if there was anything I’d realized over the course of the evening, it was that it was easy to be the old Max again around him.
The old Max hadn’t been around much lately and to have her back felt reassuring.
She was the only sure thing around right now.
“Do you think it’s too much if I take you out to pizza on Saturday?” Alex asked when he pulled over in front of my apartment.
I raised my brow. “It depends if you’ll let me tag along to some furniture shopping.”
Alex grinned. “Sounds like a plan. I’m starting to get a little tired of sitting on an old cooler to watch TV.”
I laughed. “You better make a list, Alex. And yes, pizza on Saturday sounds good. I’m in.”
He didn’t say anything for a second. He just kept looking at me with a smile still on his lips.
“What?”
“It’s good to see your smile reach your eyes again,” he said, drumming his fingers alone the steering wheel. “You looked a little sad when I first saw you tonight.”
I sighed and shook my head, some of the bubbly feeling ebbing away. “It’s just been a long week already and it’s not even over yet.”
“I’m glad I could be of service distracting you,” he said bluntly. “I hope it helped.”
I smiled again, relieved with being able to have some measure of honesty with him. “It did, thank you. But you didn’t just distract me, you know. You actually let me have a good time. I owe you.”
He reached out and squeezed my hand. “Hey, you were awesome company so you don’t owe me anything. Anytime you need to hang out, or talk, I’m here, okay?”
That last line was reminiscent of something Alex used to tell me, when he’d spot me being sullen in a corner somewhere, cut off from the world and buried in a book. He would suspect that someone was giving me a hard time but because I wouldn’t talk about it, the most he could do was remind me that he was there to help if I needed it. Some things hadn’t changed at all.
I put my other hand on top of his. “I think I’m old enough now to fight my battles, should I have any.”
He shrugged before glancing away into the distance. “Some battles we fight against ourselves. The only way to win is to lose.”
For a second, I wasn’t sure if Alex was still talking about me but he was quick to turn back to me and lean forward to brush a kiss on my temple.
“I’ll see you Saturday, Max,” he said brightly. “I’ll have a list ready.”
He waited until I got inside before driving away.
I was smiling as I made my way to my floor because it had been a nice night. Unfortunately, I wasn’t hypocritical enough to insist that when I closed my eyes tonight, it’d be Alex’s face I’d see. If it were that easy, we’d date our pain away like no one’s business. We’d be popping the one-date pill and be well on our way to recovery from the kind of torturous feelings you couldn’t afford to have for someone you couldn’t be with.
By the time I made it inside my unit, my smile was as gone as a band-aid I’d rubbed off from the wound where it itched and hurt, unwilling to spare me from the reminder of its existence for even just a moment.
I showered and put on my pajamas, letting my hair air-dry as I absently thumbed through the channels, wishing it would have the kind of mind-numbing effect I could really use tonight because try as I might, that cold and withdrawn expression on Luke’s face haunted me after I’d kept it at bay all evening.
Not long after I crawled into bed later, after turning off the lamp and pulling the covers up to my chin, my room glowed with bluish white light when my cellphone vibrated on my night stand with a text message.
[Luke: Hope you’re home safe.]
[Me: I definitely didn’t get chopped up and tossed into a dumpster by Alex.]
[Luke: Not funny.]
I smiled and slid under the covers with my phone, wondering if the cure would come from the poison itself.
[Me: It’s kinda funny.]
[Luke: Only if you have a morbid humor.]
[Me: I’m pretty sure mine said that on the label.]
[Luke: Smartass.]
[Me: If you can’t have a nice ass, have a smart one.]
[Luke: Do you really want me to describe your rear asset?]
[Me: Please don’t.]
[Luke: Did you have a nice time?]
[Me: Yeah. We had burritos. They’re bad but they’re so good.]
[Luke: I’m a burrito.]
I stifled a giggle. I wasn’t sure what Luke wanted but I couldn’t stop grinning so I couldn’t put the damn phone away.
[Me: The visuals are disturbing.]
[Luke: You’re not mad at me anymore?]
[Me: What do you think?]
[Luke: I think you want to stay mad at me.]
[Me: Why would you think that?]
[Luke: It’s a better substitute.]
[Me: For what?]
[Luke: The other kinds of feelings you don’t want to feel.]
Well, then. And here I thought we were going to beat around the bush a little bit more, as if the bush hadn’t been beaten flat to the ground already.
Being under the covers, enveloped by darkness and trapped in nothing more than a breathing space, talking to each other from miles away, it felt like we could afford a little honesty.
[Me: Then don’t make me feel them.]
[Luke: If they were that easy to stop, we wouldn’t be here.]
[Me: Here where?]
[Luke: At the opposite side of what we want.]
The screen wobbled in front of me for a second before I realized I was about to cry.
This was pure, bittersweet torment—the kind that stirred up a storm inside and left you ravaged and raw.
[Me: Only until we don’t want it any longer.]
As if he’d somehow read my mind earlier…
[Luke: Sometimes, the only way to survive the poison is to keep taking it until it can no longer hurt you.]
[Me: Until then, you will hurt like hell.]
[Luke: I already do.]
I put my phone down and closed my eyes, willing the tears back down and brushing away a couple that trickled down my temples.
I couldn’t remember how long I laid there like that but it must’ve been long enough because my phone suddenly started vibrating again, this time with a call.
“Hello?”
Luke swore softly under his breath. “Don’t cry, Max.”
“What makes you think I’m crying?” I asked.
“I can hear it in your voice.”
“I’m just all clogged up. It’s my sinus.”
He paused for a moment before letting out a long sigh. “You’re getting too good at this.”
“At what?”
“Lying.”
I felt my lips tug up in one corner in what felt like an ironic smile. “Been getting lots of practice lately.”
“I should leave you to sleep.”
“You should leave me to do a lot of things.”
“You’re right, I should.” He sounded slightly resentful at that statement. “But that’s the problem, isn’t it, Max? I never could from the very first day.”
I didn’t say anything.
There wasn’t a lot more that I could say at this point without saying everything. And despite the cracks in Luke’s resolve, he was still stubbornly holding it together even if it cut him and wore him down to the bone. Why, only he knew and I wasn’t going to ask him something he clearly didn’t want to tell me or he would’ve told me by now.
“I have to go to sleep, Luke.”
“Okay. Goodnight, Max.”
“Goodnight.”
“And thanks.”
“For what?”
“Being the last voice I hear tonight before I sleep.”
“Save a recording. It would be easier and less traumatic.”
He laughed softly. “Never.”
“You’re an idiot, Luke Hedenby.”
“But romantic.”
“Which we’ve concluded today means the same thing.”
“Okay, I’ll hang up.”
A long pause.
“You still haven’t hung up.”
“Because I keep waiting in case you still have something to say.”
“I don’t have anything more to say.”
I heard him blow out a breath. “You’re still talking, aren’t you?”
I groaned. “Luke Hedenby, I’m hanging up now. Goodnight.”
And without another second’s hesitation, I pressed End Call on my phone and shoved it under my pillow where I promptly buried my face in along with the stupid grin plastered on it.
***
So, what do you guys think?
Not sure if you've noticed but the scenes in TROF are going to be simpler, more contained in the daily lives of two people who can't figure out whether they're brave enough for the one thing they're so scared of.
Thanks again for patiently waiting. I hope we all have a better week this week.
Vote and comment!
P.S. I think the song is a pretty good fit, about everything they wanted but everything they don't, about both of them holding on but also letting go, about knowing but just unable to let it show. Hope you like it.
XOXO!
-Ninya
♪♪♪ Chapter Soundtrack: Holding On and Letting Go by Ross Copperman ♪♪♪
Is anybody out there?
Is anybody listening?
Does anybody really know?
If it’s the end of our beginning,
A cry
A rush
From one breath
Is all we’re waiting for
Sometimes the one we’re taking
Changes every one before
It's everything you wanted, it's everything you don't
It's one door swinging open and one door swinging closed
Some prayers find an answer
Some prayers never know
We're holding on and letting go
Sometimes we're holding angels
And we never even know
Don't know if we'll make it,
But we know,
We just can't let it show