19. Chapter 19
nineteen
I spent most of my day off work melting my brain into goo.
Considering I didn’t have much up there left to cook, it didn’t take a lot of effort. Just a few hours down the Internet wormhole until I’d filled my near-empty head with so much information it felt like a bloated walrus.
Terms I hadn’t known yesterday flew past my eyes at light speed.
I wasn’t an expert on ADHD now by any means, but I’d read so many first-hand anecdotes, medical websites, and research articles that the walls around me swam.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt so understood and confused and validated and enraged and grief-stricken all at once.
And that was saying something, considering I was the queen of overwhelm.
By five o’clock, I couldn’t take it anymore.
I’d already paced the entirety of my apartment multiple times, made three different flavors of cookies, and tried reading three different books before putting them down a few pages in.
I—and let this go down in the history books as something I never, ever thought I’d say— needed human interaction.
Even if my friends weren’t busy, I’d leap at whatever chance I could get to hang out with Max. So, after hyping myself up with a lengthy pep talk in the bathroom mirror, I texted him.
Me: You up for some dinner?
Let the record show, I managed to busy myself with loading the dishwasher rather than obsessing over when he would respond. Yep. I’d resorted to productivity.
I’d officially reached a whole new level of desperation.
His reply came a few minutes later.
Max: I actually already had something planned. How about you come with me?
I squirmed, the familiar sinking feeling creeping up all around me. Climbing my legs and squeezing against my lungs. Threatening to smother me. It wasn’t even a bad rejection. He’d gone out of his way to soften the blow by inviting me along to be polite.
I repeated some of the mantras I’d found on a website about managing rejection sensitivity. “This hurts, and that’s okay. I’m safe.”
Even if it shouldn’t logically hurt at all. But, hey, I was trying.
Me: Oh, no, I don’t want to intrude on your plans. Thanks for the invite, though!
My dinner plans were quickly looking like a tub of Ben and Jerry’s, but that was one of the perks of being single. No one to judge you when you pound a whole pint of rocky road for dinner before calling it a night at seven-thirty.
My phone buzzed a minute later.
Max: You wouldn’t be intruding at all! I could use the company.
He’d included a winking emoji at the end. And, I’ll admit it, my heart fluttered like a pathetic, one-winged moth. It completely replaced the sinking, crushing weight that had slowly receded after I’d repeated my mantra.
I smiled the whole time I typed my response, complete with two winking faces.
Me: Well, as long as it’s a chance to be a Good Samaritan, how could I refuse?
He sent a laughing emoji.
Max: Exactly! I’ll pick you up in half an hour?
Me: I can’t wait!
This, followed by a heart-eyes face, offset with two star-eyes emojis so my crush on him wouldn’t be as glaringly obvious. See? Balance.
Me: Wait, what’s the dress code for wherever we’re going? And is it real food or tiny hors d’oeuvres they say are a full meal?
He sent back a few laughing emojis. The typing bubble popped up, disappeared, and then popped up again for a while before his reply came. By then, I was already tearing through my drawers for something acceptable.
Max: I assure you, I take food very seriously. Full portions or bust.
He’d included a smiling devil emoji at the end.
Max: Something like what you wore last time would be perfect.
I snorted, even as color blossomed up my neck.
Me: Which time, exactly? It’s disturbing how many times you’ve seen me in my pajamas.
Note to self: invest in cute pajamas. Preferably ones that don’t have holes in the armpit.
Max: Is that what those were?
Me: Is that judgment I’m sensing, Max?
I held a few shirts up to myself in the mirror, ultimately deciding on the red V-neck that Lex said looked “sexy casual,” which I would’ve doubted could coexist if I hadn’t seen Max look positively sinful in a T-shirt.
After pairing my shirt with my favorite pair of jeans, I pinned my hair away from my face and nodded at my reflection in satisfaction.
My curls were unruly as always, but their dark chocolate color went great with the red of the shirt. The neckline dipped low enough to hint at my femininity without being scandalous, and with a smidge of makeup, my eyes would pop. Honestly, this was as good as it was going to get.
My phone buzzed as I applied my mascara.
Max: Judgment? From me? Never.
I rolled my eyes, my smile firmly in place. And there it stayed until two knocks echoed through the apartment.
I secured my purse across my body and whipped the door open, practically floating on a cloud just from knowing I got to spend the evening with him.
“Hey, Che—whoa.”
Max’s brows shot up as he took in my appearance. His dark eyes flicked over my face, leaving a smoldering trail wherever they alighted. And when they darted to my lips, however briefly, my breath caught in my throat.
Breathing was overrated anyway. If I could fill my lungs with the appreciation in his eyes, I could live forever.
“You’re wearing jeans,” he finally said, his voice a little strained.
The heat that had stained my cheeks drained, taking my confidence with it. “Is that bad? I can change real quick.”
“No,” he blurted. He shook his head and coughed lightly. When he spoke again, his voice was almost normal. “You look great. They look great, is what I meant.”
“Oh. Uh, thanks.” I closed and locked the door behind me, grateful for the opportunity to get my blush under control before turning back around where he could see me. I kept my voice light and casual, even while my skin prickled from our proximity. “You look great, too.”
And, really, he did. Like. Freaking. Always.
This time he wore a light gray Henley that showcased the little divot where his collar bones met before the buttons pulled the collar together to conceal the rest of his chest from view.
I had the most random, intrusive urge to run my tongue along that divot and savor the saltiness of his skin like it was sugared berries.
Which wasn’t just weird, but completely illegal. Or it should be. Crushing on my hot neighbor while he was on a dating hiatus was one thing. Fantasizing about licking him like a lovesick puppy was another.
Max grinned and stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans, blessedly oblivious to the weird turn my thoughts had taken. “What, these old things?”
I arched an eyebrow. “Max, I’m going to say this as your friend” —I only choked a little on that word, so yay, me— “but you do know you’re stupidly handsome, right?
It seems impossible that you’ve lived this long without knowing it, but I’ve heard that a lot of guys don’t get many compliments, so I want to make sure. ”
Max looked away, and I could’ve sworn his cheeks darkened. It was the most endearing thing I’d ever seen. In that moment, terrified as I was of conflict, I would’ve fought the whole world to protect him.
“A few girls have said something like that over the years, yeah.” He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck as we set out toward the stairs. “But you’re right. We don’t get many compliments.”
I furrowed my brow. “Well, that changes starting now.”
I waited until we made it to the lobby doors, which he held open for me like always before offering my sunniest smile. “Max, your laugh is infectious, and I adore it.”
He laughed, blessing me with the glorious sound as we continued walking to the parking lot. “I want to return the compliments now. Tit for tat and all that.”
I pretended to shudder. “Oh, no, please don’t. It’ll be like trying to insert a wrinkly bill in a vending machine.”
“How so?”
“It’s an unnecessarily awkward experience for everyone involved, that’s how.
I turn bright red and flounder like a trout because it feels like having the experience of everyone singing happy birthday to you condensed into a few seconds.
” I gestured vaguely with my hands. “What do I say? What do I do —curtsy? Blow kisses? Bow ?”
He tipped his head back as he laughed, unlocking a new favorite memory.
The sun, creeping closer to the horizon, cast its golden light on him as if it, too, couldn’t resist Max’s pull.
Happiness radiated from him. In his smile, his laugh, the way he walked.
He was utterly magnetic, and I was the fool coating myself in iron shavings, eyes wide open and accepting of my fate.
I nudged him playfully. “You laugh, but I’m pretty sure I’ve done each of those at some point.”
He wiped at his eyes. “I’d pay real money to see that .”
“Yeah, well, stick around me long enough and you’ll get the whole awkward show for free.”
His grin faded to a soft smile, his gaze meeting mine. “Hard to resist an offer like that.”
“Then don’t.” I attempted to wink, but what really happened was an uncoordinated series of blinks that scrunched my whole face.
“Are you okay? Do you have something in your eye?”
“Uh… yep.” I pretended to wipe away an imaginary speck, since that seemed like the least humiliating option. “I think I got it now.”
He pressed his lips together, hesitating as he held the passenger door of his car open for me. “Yeah, it’s, uh” —he tapped next to his own eye— “it’s right there, I think.”
Oh, crab chops , I really had something on my face? A fleck of mascara, maybe? That’s what I got for fibbing. Karma was going to get a speeding ticket if it kept up this pace.
I swiped across my cheek and temple. “Did I get it?”
He shook his head. “It’s on your cheek now.”
“Aw, falafel ,” I muttered, swiping madly at my face. “Now?”
“Nope.” He shook his head and chuckled. He reached out, his thumb hovering an inch away from my cheek until heat crackled in the space between our skin. He swallowed visibly, entrancing me with the motion. “May I?”
My voice was barely more than a whisper. “Please.”
His thumb brushed against my cheek, deliciously slow and intentional. Thorough, and thoroughly intoxicating as embers swept over my skin, threatening to catch on my tenuous self-control and set it ablaze.
My eyes fluttered closed at his touch. I couldn’t stop it even if I’d tried, and I didn’t want to. I didn’t open them again until his thumb lingered by my temple, undoubtedly feeling my pulse galloping like a thoroughbred.
Our gazes locked with the intensity of tectonic plates shifting into place. The ensuing earthquake rocked through me until the tips of my fingers trembled and my breathing became shallow.
For one delusional second, we felt inevitable. A force of nature and written in the stars.
Sunshine.
And chaos.
Then, with a sharp inhale, he pulled back until only the aftershocks remained in his wake.
“Got it,” he murmured, his voice tantalizing in its huskiness. He cleared his throat and stepped out of the way so I could get in the car easier. “Shall we go?”
I nodded vigorously, as much to clear my head of the haziness that fogged my thoughts the second he touched me as to show my agreement. “Where are we going, exactly? Because I brought reinforcements just in case.”
Once I slid in the seat, I pulled a quart-sized baggie of cookies out of my purse. Since my stress-baking had left me with about four and a half dozen, the more I could pawn off on him, the better. Out of the goodness of my heart, of course.
He let out a low whistle, and I could’ve sworn he stood as far as he physically could from me while he closed my door.
“You don’t mess around when it comes to dessert, do you?” he asked once he’d made it around to the driver’s seat.
“If you meet any baker who does , don’t trust their food.”
He laughed, the twinkle returning to his eyes. “Good point.”
“I make some of those occasionally.” I buckled my seatbelt and looked at him expectantly as he started up the engine. “So where are we going?”
His smile turned mischievous, sending phantom tremors across my cheek from the sheer memory of his touch. “You, my friend, are about to have your life changed for the better.”