Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Reality crashed back in, leaving me cold and disoriented. Right. This was just practice, another part of our charade. Max Bennett didn’t do relationships, I reminded myself. He didn’t look at a man or a woman like they were the center of his entire universe, didn’t kiss like it meant something. He was just good at playing his part—maybe too good because I was starting to have trouble separating fact from fiction.
I pulled back, ignoring the ache in my chest and the way my body protested the loss of his warmth. I made myself smile, forcing a light tone into my voice even as my lips still burned. “Yeah. Very convincing.”
Max cleared his throat and reached for his phone like it was some kind of anchor. I noticed, though, that his hands weren’t quite steady. His thumb hovered over the screen, unmoving, and the silence between us felt charged again.
“So, uh.” His voice cracked slightly before he recovered. “ The Sound of Music is still your favorite movie, right?”
I blinked at him, trying to process the jarring shift in conversation. He didn’t meet my eyes, his focus trained entirely on his screen, but the slight pink flush creeping up his neck told me he wasn’t as unaffected as he’d like me to believe.
Still, I latched onto the familiar topic gratefully, desperate to find my footing even as the ghost of his lips lingered on mine. I forced a teasing tone into my voice. “Are you questioning my devotion to Captain Von Trapp?”
Max’s lips twitched, the corner of his mouth curling as some of his usual playful confidence returned. “Just making sure his marriage hasn’t changed the good Captain’s appeal.” He glanced up finally, that twinkle of mischief returning to his gaze. “Though I still say he should’ve ended up with the Baroness.”
I gasped dramatically, smacking his arm. “Take that back! The Baroness was all wrong for him.”
He grinned, feigning innocence as he rubbed the spot where I’d hit him. “Why? She was practical, elegant?—”
“Emotionally unavailable!” I cut in.
“Maria was his employee ,” he pointed out, an old argument between us.
“She was his soulmate ,” I corrected, trying to ignore how my voice caught on the word. “She saw past all his walls and defenses to who he really was.”
Max went still, his gaze locking on mine, the humor in his expression softening. “You’re such a romantic.” His voice was soft, and there was a glint in his eyes that made my breath catch all over again.
For a brief moment, it felt like we were teetering on the edge of something dangerous. I dropped my gaze quickly, heat crawling up my neck as I turned away and straightened the throw pillow, my fingers fussing over its fringe. “Well, someone has to balance out your cynicism.”
“I’m not cynical,” he protested, stretching an arm along the back of the couch, his fingers grazing my shoulder as he did. The touch was light, barely there, but my body noticed anyway, every nerve ending humming to life. “I’m practical . The Baroness made more sense. Same social class, same lifestyle?—”
“Same emotional walls,” I argued, cutting him off. “They would have been miserable together, focused all the time on hosting fancy parties while keeping each other at arm’s length.”
His smile faltered—just a flicker—like my words had hit too close to home. “Sometimes walls exist for a reason, Han,” he said, his voice turning somewhat somber, giving me the sudden impression that we weren’t talking about the movie anymore.
I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them like I could build a wall of my own. “Right. To keep people from getting hurt.”
Max was quiet for a moment, and then his fingers brushed my shoulder again, a slow, absentminded movement that made me shiver despite my attempt not to. “To keep things from getting complicated,” he corrected softly.
Like fake-dating your best friend and then kissing her senseless? I wanted to ask. But instead, I forced a smile to my face that felt brittle. “Well, thank goodness we’re keeping things simple, then.”
His laugh was short and dry, a sound that didn’t quite match his expression. “Right. Simple.”
His phone buzzed again, and he grabbed it like it had saved him from something he didn’t want to say. Relief flickered across his face as he glanced at the screen. “Speaking of simple, do you want to go through the rest of these questions? We still haven’t covered favorite books or biggest fears.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding. “Biggest fear is easy—spiders.”
Max’s grin returned, genuine this time, softening the jagged edges between us. “I’ll never forget the time you called me up at two o’clock in the morning to deal with that ‘monster’ in your bathroom.”
“It was the size of my fist!” I protested.
“It was a daddy longlegs.”
“Which is a giant ass spider, Max!”
He shifted, and I realized his fingers were still tracing a path over my shoulder. He seemed to notice it, too, and pulled back, running his hand through his hair instead. “Okay, your turn to ask me something.”
I racked my brain for something I didn’t already know about him, finally settling on, “What’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you?”
“Besides showing up to rescue you from a daddy longlegs in the middle of the night wearing my Pokemon pajamas?”
I snorted. “You say that like you don’t love them.”
Frankly, while they looked ridiculous on everyone else my brother had given those pajamas to last Christmas, on Max, they somehow weren’t such an eyesore. On me, though? They somehow managed to be both too big and too small. Still, they’d been a gift from my brother at a time when all of his excess cash was put toward trying to get his latest app off the ground, and Max was nothing if not a good friend, so rather than donating them to Goodwill like the rest of us had, he’d actually kept them— and wore them.
“Of course I do. They’re comfortable.” He paused for a moment, rubbing his palm back and forth over the stubble lining his chiseled jaw. “The most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me,” he mused, taking time to consider his answer. “Honestly? Probably the time in college that I accidentally sent a very personal, very explicit email meant for the girl I was dating at the time—” he cleared his throat; we both knew dating was a euphemism for fucking “—to my entire class, including the professor.”
While I wasn’t all that interested in hearing about the people Max had been with, I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to learn about him making a fool of himself. Somehow, it made the ordinarily unflappable Max Bennett seem mortal … like the rest of us.
I sat up straighter, intrigued. “How have I never heard this story?”
Translation: why hadn’t my brother ever told me?
“Because it’s mortifying, and I’ve spent years trying to suppress it?” He groaned, covering his eyes with his hands. “I had to drop the class.”
“Oh, come on. It couldn’t have been that bad.”
He peeked at me through his fingers. “Let’s just say I waxed poetic about some creative uses for rope and whipped cream and leave it at that.”
“You kinky bastard!” I gasped, something low in my belly clenching. I chose to ignore it.
“Says the woman who was unwittingly part of a throuple!”
I groaned, flopping back against the cushions. “That was not my fault. How was I supposed to know Stephanie was Noel’s girlfriend? The way he talked about her, I thought they were roommates! And then, once I finally met her , I assumed we’d hit it off as friends, too. Was it weird they kept inviting me to things and being super intense about including me in everything? Yes, fine. But in my defense, nothing about us ever turned physical.”
He snickered. “Not until you went on vacation with them.”
“I thought it was a group thing.”
“So did they,” he said with a smirk.
“Shush, you. Once I figured out they both wanted to fuck me, I high-tailed it out of there.” Even now, all these years later, my cheeks still burned at the memory of them inviting me to their bed.
Max grinned at me, shaking his head in dismay. “You know, for someone so smart, you can be incredibly oblivious sometimes.”
I forced a laugh, but something twisted in my chest at his words. Oblivious? That was rich, coming from him. For someone who prided himself on reading people so well—who’d been able to sense exactly what was bothering me about the wedding when even my brother and Percy hadn’t, who could tell when I was having a bad day just by the way I said hello—he was remarkably blind when it came to my feelings for him. Or maybe he wasn’t blind at all. Perhaps he saw exactly how I felt and chose to ignore it, like that kiss we were both pretending hadn’t rocked my world twenty minutes ago.
When I caught his expression, though, the teasing glint in his eyes had faded into something darker, more intense. My breath caught as I realized he was staring at my lips again.
“Hannah.” My name came out rough, like he’d swallowed gravel. His body shifted closer, the couch creaking beneath him, his knee brushing mine in the process.
At that moment, my phone chirped loudly from the coffee table, making us both jump. A message from my mom lit up the screen: David just called. His car won’t start, and he needs a ride to his doctor’s appointment. Can you take him? I’m at the hairdresser.
“I should go deal with this,” I said quickly, holding my phone up as gratitude for the interruption washed over me even as part of me wanted to throw my phone out the window.
Max blinked as though he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He pushed to his feet, but the movement felt somehow reluctant. “Right, yeah. Of course.” He cleared his throat. “Do you … umm … maybe want some company?” His voice was hesitant, as though he wasn’t sure he should be offering. “You know my car handles snow like a tank.”
“No, that’s okay,” I told him, moving about the room to gather my purse and slip on my shoes, pointedly ignoring how my hands trembled. Some time away from Max would be good. Smart, even. I needed to get my head on straight, and that wasn’t going to happen sitting next to him in his fancy Range Rover, where the warm, spicy scent of his cologne would wrap around me, making it impossible to think straight. “My CRV is plenty capable, thank you very much. Besides, we’ll probably have to run by the pharmacy after his appointment.”
“You sure?” His hands flexed at his sides as if resisting the urge to reach for something—me, maybe?
“Yeah.” I forced myself to meet his eyes, pasting on what I hoped was a casual smile. “Thanks, though.”
Max lingered for a beat too long, his weight shifting between his feet. He started to turn but stopped halfway, glancing back at me as though he wanted to say something else—something that sat heavily on his tongue but refused to come out. Instead, he gave a slight nod, his lips twitching into a tight, almost apologetic smile.
“Text me when you’re home, okay?”
I nodded, my throat feeling tight at the unvoiced statement contained in that request. David’s health issues extended beyond just the physical. My brother thought he was doing a good job at hiding his depression from his friends, but we all saw it for what it was, and we had a pact to watch out for him. He would die of embarrassment if he knew how we kept each other in the loop, but some things were too important to leave to chance.
My agreement to update him on David’s well-being secured, Max turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing faintly down the hall. As I watched him go, I let out a slow breath, my chest aching with the emotions I’d been holding back. The soft click of the exterior door reached my ears as I pressed my cold hands to my overheated face. I was playing with fire, and the worst part was that I wasn’t sure I didn’t want to burn.