Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Zoe
MaxMc: Stand-up paddleboarding in the Farmington River?
Zoe: Hello?
MaxMc: Hello to you too. But what do you think?
Zoe: What are you trying to say, Maximillian? I’m in the middle of a meeting—this time . . . It. Is. True.
MaxMc: Yeah, I can see your bored face from the camera.
Zoe: Ugh . . . are you seriously watching?
MaxMc: Only because you said you were in a meeting.
Zoe: One of these days you’re going to have to trust me when I tell you that I’m busy.
MaxMc: Yeah, nope. You make up shit way too often to avoid me. So stop deflecting and tell me if youwant to go.
Zoe: I haven’t made up anything lately. You dragged me to a basketball game, which as I pointed out, we could’ve watched comfortably at a sports bar.
MaxMc: This is why you need me. Someone needs to teach you where and how to have fun. Now, let’s discuss paddleboarding—we could always go tubing instead.
Zoe: What’s next? Skinny dipping in a lake?
MaxMc: You’ve never gone skinny dipping?
Zoe: No, that’s what swimming suits are for—to avoid yucky water getting . . . everywhere.
MaxMc: I’m not sure what’s more ridiculous, the fact that you think the water will get in your little pussy or you calling the lake water yucky.
Zoe: Do you have to be crass?
MaxMc: Crass would be calling it cunt, I didn’t. What do you want me to call it?
Zoe: I’M IN A MEETING.
MaxMc: It’s a question, don’t shout at me.
Zoe: Vagina. It’s called vagina.
MaxMc: That’s boring and . . . is that what Tom called it when he licked your pussy? Can I taste your vagina?
Zoe: I’m going to die of embarrassment.
MaxMc: Why? As your friend, I’m trying to figure out why you’re cringing every time you read my texts.
Zoe: Meeting.
MaxMc: I’ll record it if you want so you don’t miss anything.
Zoe: Can you record meetings?
MaxMc: Yep. I can do a lot of things, including eating your pussy. I bet you’re tasty.
Zoe: STOP.
MaxMc: I like it when you blush.
Zoe: You’re a terrible friend.
MaxMc: Why?
Zoe: This isn’t the kind of conversation friends have with each other.
MaxMc: Yes, I can tell you how I like to have my cock sucked—and my fucking amazing mouth. It does wonders.
Zoe: Turning off the phone—now.
After I turn off the phone, I excuse myself. Never in my life have I felt so flustered—and during a meeting no less. I freshen up and when I arrive at my office, the phone rings.
“It’s for you,” Anna, my assistant, says.
“Can you tell them I will call in a few?”
She is about to say that when whoever is on the other line says it’s urgent. I groan, but go into my office, shut the door, and take the call.
“Zoe Harper speaking,” I say, trying to maintain my professional tone.
“Sorry,” Max’s voice comes from the other side.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” I snap. “We have to set boundaries. You can’t tease me like that while I’m in a meeting.”
“A meeting you were hating, by the way,” Max responds with a smirk evident in his tone.
“Not the point,” I retort sharply. “You can’t just text me . . . I mean, that’s very inappropriate.”
“What exactly are you calling inappropriate?” His voice is guarded and somehow I feel like if I don’t give him the right answer, he’s going to be teasing me about this conversation for the rest of my natural life.
“The texts you were sending while I was busy,” I say, hoping that the right wording will convey my frustration.
“But if you weren’t busy, they would’ve been okay?” he asks, probably or at least hopefully trying to find some kind of boundary.
“I don’t know. Why would I want to talk about my sex life with you?” I question defensively.
“We’re friends, why not? Don’t you talk about that with your girlfriends and sisters?” he challenges. “It’s the twenty-first century, Zoe. The elders won’t punish you for liking sex.”
“I’m not a prude, if that’s what you’re saying,” I bark, feeling my face flush with a mix of anger and embarrassment.
“Then did he?”
I stare at the phone, confused. “What are you asking?”
“Did Tom ever say he was going to lick your vagina?” His bluntness knows no boundaries.
“I refuse to respond.”
“So you two never had oral?” He sounds actually concerned about it.
“That is none of your business.”
“It is. I’m worried about your health, Zoe. This guy refused to give you the basics—unless he did and he talked very, very dirty while doing so,” he says, his voice low, gravelly, and undeniably sexual.
“Max, you can’t just?—”
“Just what? Care about you?” he interrupts. “Look, if we’re going to be friends, real friends, we need to be honest with each other. And that includes talking about stuff like this. So, did he or didn’t he?”
I sigh, feeling trapped but also oddly comforted by his concern. “No, he didn’t,” I admit quietly.
“The tool was a fucking prick,” he says, somehow upset. “Thank fuck you left him. There’s so much we have to remedy. I was going to say let’s paddleboard but we’ll go easy with you.”
“Easy?”
“Yeah, pool water should be enough to conquer your fears,” he states with so much confidence. I imagine he’s grinning triumphantly from ear to ear. “Be ready at seven, I’ll pick you up from work.”
“I have?—”
“No excuse,” he interrupts me, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You told me your schedule last night while I was driving you back home from the game.”
“Something came up,” I stutter, realizing that he won’t believe me.
“I can’t wait to hear your excuse,” he says, his voice dripping with amusement. “Legal emergency? You decided to move to another country to avoid me? You . . . Please give me a good excuse.”
“You’re exasperating.” I blow out a breath, feeling the tension in my shoulders.
“And that’s why you like me. Maybe I’m the unknown thing that’ll bring you back to life from your state of zombie-boredom,” he says.
“Insufferable,” I growl, clenching my fists.
“Zoe, Lora is asking for you,” Anna thankfully interrupts me, poking her head into my office.
“Hey—”
“I heard,” Max says, a teasing edge in his voice. “See you at seven—don’t be late.”
With that, he hangs up, leaving me gripping the phone in frustration. I want to scream, but instead, I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. Annoyed as I am, I can’t help but feel a flicker of curiosity about what he might have planned.