CHAPTER TWENTY
I practically choked on my own tongue. Max was teasing. I could hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes, but it sounded like the most delicious prospect ever, and I wished there were a way to say yes, please, do that , without risking rejection.
His eyes shuttered. “Everly, I was only—”
“Why did you come over and talk to me the first night we met?” I asked before he could finish his sentence and tell me that he’d meant it a platonic way because we were pals. “Was it just because you wanted to save me?”
I didn’t want him hanging out with me because he thought he needed to rescue me. I couldn’t deal with his teasing and joking if I knew that was the reason behind it—that he was doing all of this out of pity.
He considered my question before answering. “I came over because I saw you doing a Wonder Woman spin and it made me want to talk to you.”
There was nothing he could have said that would have surprised me more. Well, other than reiterating seriously that he’d like to seduce me. “Why?”
He shrugged the shoulder that I was holding on to. “It was just sweet and ... What’s that expression? It tugged at my heartstrings.”
This was so much worse than I had thought. “I made you sad?”
“What? No.”
Maybe it was just a translation thing and he wasn’t saying he’d thought I was pathetic. “If something tugs at your heartstrings, you feel sad.”
“I didn’t feel sad. I felt ... enchanted. I wanted to meet the girl who would so fearlessly twirl around in front of all those people because I wanted to know why she had done it.”
Enchanted? Was that another language mix-up? I tried to not let it give me too much hope.
“I did it to give myself a boost of confidence,” I confessed. “Which didn’t work, given that right after, I cried all over your dog.”
“That part did tug at my heartstrings.” He took my hand and laid it against his chest, putting his own hand on top of it.
I couldn’t help my sharp intake of breath at the intimate gesture. I could feel his heart beating beneath my fingertips. I wanted to flatten my hand and explore him, to feel his heartbeat and warmth against my palms.
“There’s something I want to tell you,” he said in a voice that I felt more than heard.
“You can tell me anything.”
“I know I can,” he said, and I swore I felt him nuzzling the side of my head. I sighed while my synapses sparked with excitement and anticipation. “I’ve thought a lot about something we talked about—how my past affects my future. I have a hard time trusting people. I didn’t expect to get cheated on.”
His evil, stupid ex-girlfriend. “People in relationships usually don’t.”
“I haven’t really dated since Arabella and I broke up.”
Now the evil, stupid ex had a name. Arabella. Of course it had to be pretty and delicate like that. It couldn’t have been Gertrude or Agatha, something I could have secretly relished. “Now it’s my turn to say that I find that hard to believe.”
He flashed me a brief smile. “It’s not because of a broken heart or not being over it. It was not really finding anyone that I wanted to spend time with. Someone I could trust. But Everly ... I know that I can trust you.”
Were those things all connected? Him trusting, talking about wanting to spend time with someone, considering it dating? Or was I reading into things? I came to a stop. Max still held me in his arms, but we were no longer moving in slow circles. “You trust me?”
He nodded. “I wanted to thank you for that—for being someone I could trust.”
I would forsake sleep for a year if he would keep looking at me the way that he was right then—like I was the actual Wonder Woman and he was in awe of me.
Was I supposed to say you’re welcome ? It felt like it would be anticlimactic.
When I didn’t speak, he filled in the gap. “I knew I’d be able to trust you from the moment we met.”
“How could you know that?”
“Basta liked you and she doesn’t like many people.”
That made me smile, but I understood that he was joking, maybe as an attempt to lighten the mood, which felt very heavy and serious between us.
But his smile faltered when he added, “And I hope you feel the same way.”
Did he mean whether or not I trusted him? Because while I understood logically that I hadn’t known him long enough to make this kind of declaration, I would trust Max Colby with my life.
Or was there some deeper subtext here that I was completely oblivious to?
“Did you notice that the music changed like, two songs ago?” Vella asked, interrupting us. The band was playing another upbeat number and I’d been totally unaware, caught up in the spell Max was weaving.
The spell he continued to weave. Because even with the interruption, he didn’t release me.
“Excuse us girls a second,” she said to him. “I have to go to the bathroom and Everly’s coming with me.”
I tried to protest, but she clamped down on my wrist and wrenched me away from him, and with every step I took, my body protested at this drastic, unnecessary, and very unwanted change.
We got in line for the women’s bathroom and all I wanted to do was go back to Max.
“So I saw you two holding hands,” she said in a conversational tone that I knew was a cover for what she really wanted to say. “Isn’t that like, third base or something for your people?”
“We were dancing.” I didn’t mean to tell her anything beyond that, but I couldn’t help myself. “He did ask me if it would be okay to hold my hand later.”
She blinked at me a couple of times. “Is he a fictional hero from a Victorian novel?”
“I like that he’s old-fashioned,” I said defensively.
“I suppose it’s perfect for you and where you’re at. Or it may be an indication of what’s to come. And that sucks.”
We moved up a spot. “What does?”
“Max being bad at dancing. I don’t understand why it was so hard for him. It’s literally two steps.”
“He kept starting on the wrong foot and miscounting,” I responded.
“I’m just sorry for you because it means he’ll probably be uncoordinated when it comes to other physical activities.”
My mind went blank. “Like racquetball?” I immediately realized how stupid that sounded and what she had been implying.
“No, Everly, not like racquetball. Dancing is a vertical expression of a horizontal one.”
“I know what you meant,” I mumbled. “It’s not like I’m ever going to have to worry about that with him. He doesn’t want to date me. I don’t see it ever happening.”
“When you hang out with him, are your eyes closed? Because that is the only explanation possible for you not being able to see what’s going on. Even if you dismiss everything else, he paid for you tonight. That’s a date.”
“He also paid for you,” I reminded her. “So unless you’re ready for us to be sister-wives, neither one of us is dating him. He took me out to thank me for helping Sunny.”
“That is not a thing. People don’t do that.”
“Sure they do.”
Vella crossed her arms over her chest. “Name one time you’ve done it.”
“I—”
She was right. I couldn’t think of a single instance. I had brought people gifts or sent them thank-you notes or emails, but I had never taken someone dancing to thank them.
“This bicycle only needs two wheels,” she said as we reached the front of the line.
“You’re not a third wheel.”
“I am, and I’m taking off with Cowboy Troy. He said something about showing me a silver belt buckle he got for bareback riding. I’m not sure what any of that means, but I’m interested in finding out.” At my look, she added, “Don’t worry. I have my stun gun and pepper spray.”
“Is that his name? In case I need to call the police?”
“I’ll be fine. And it’s not his name. I just like how Cowboy Troy sounds. I’ll text you with his actual information. Just in case,” she said in an exaggerated way, as if I worried too much.
Which I probably did, but I didn’t want anything to happen to her.
“I know you don’t like to take my advice, but at least consider this one thing. Max is interested, but you’re the one shutting it down. With your body language, the things you’re saying. I’ve seen you around him twice now, and please believe me when I tell you that if you want something to happen, which deep down I know you do, you have to be more open.”
“I don’t do that!”
“You do and I don’t understand it. You’re finally getting your magical fairy tale you’ve always wanted and you’re pushing it away with both hands. Enjoy your time with Max. Try to be more open.” A stall opened up and she headed into it.
Was I doing that? All of my interactions with Max had this slightly unbelievable feel to them, as if they should have been happening to someone else. Or like I was watching a movie starring me.
Here I’d thought Vella was the one broadcasting do-not-disturb vibes, but if she was right, I had been the one doing that. I was scaring people off.
How long had I been doing it for? Was I so afraid of any kind of intimacy, of being publicly humiliated or secretly heartbroken, that I’d pushed away every possible chance at romance?
I used the bathroom, washed my hands, and checked my phone. Vella had texted me a note to tell me that she’d already left, and I was feeling subdued over what she’d said to me in line.
Max was at the bar and my spirits lifted at seeing him again, but that discouraged feeling didn’t completely disappear.
“There you are,” he said. “I was starting to get worried about you.”
“Vella left,” I told him.
He nodded. “She said goodbye. Are you ready to try this dancing thing again?”
I didn’t feel like dancing anymore. I was worried that I was going to get caught up in this negativity that my best friend had accidentally planted in my head. I opened my mouth, intending to tell him that we should call it a night.
Instead I said, “Can we get out of here?”
He nodded. “Where do you want me to take you? Are you hungry?”
I was. I’d been so nervous about tonight that I hadn’t eaten in a while. “Yes.”
“Is there anywhere special you’d like to go?”
Mustering up my courage, I reached out and took his hand. I saw the momentary shock on his face and I half expected him to pull away, but he didn’t. He gently squeezed my hand in return.
Then I told him, “I don’t care where we go so long as I’m with you.”
He gave me the sexiest smile I’d ever seen. “Then let’s go.”