Chapter 32
Annalise
“I hope you slept well during your nap,” Max says, looking down at me as we stand outside of a beautiful stone building only a few kilometers from Central London.
He’s been unusually cryptic about where he planned on taking me for dinner tonight. Though I wanted to ask a million questions, particularly if the outfit I chose was appropriate, I refrained.
A smile spreads over my face as I remember the way my chest swelled in a strange pride after he sped over the finish line yesterday, ahead of the other nineteen drivers on the track.
One of which is your brother.
I mentally swat away the intrusive thought in place of the happiness I felt during Max’s win.
That was hours ago, though.
After the celebrations and the time it took to extricate myself from my family’s post-race gatherings, I met up with Max and we drove to his apartment in London.
Truly, I could’ve stayed in his place over the next few days and been completely happy.
His windows look out on the London Eye and the view is amazing.
Max insisted on me resting most of the day before our surprise date night.
Ironic, since he’s the one out of the two of us who’s done the most work this weekend. A sentiment that had his face frowning when I said it out loud.
We’ve both worked our arses off this weekend.
My heart swooned a little at the sincerity in his voice when he said that.
“Your bed feels like sleeping on a mattress made out of the softest bird feathers made to fit on a floating cloud.”
He grins.
“Seriously, if it were mine, I’d never leave. I don’t see how you gave it up to move to Monaco.”
Max’s brows drop at the same time his eyes darken almost imperceptibly while he looks me up and down. The look is so unexpected and so … scandalous, that a shiver runs down my spine.
“Not that your bed in Monaco isn’t anything to appreciate either.” I don’t know why I chose to add that. It is true. Max has exceptional taste when it comes to selecting furniture that’s not only functional and stylish but comfortable and meant for human use over aesthetics.
“Happy to hear you appreciate my taste.”
I roll my eyes. “I slept well. Are you sure you’re not too tired for—”
I’m cut off when the huge, wooden door is thrust open.
“Welcome, welcome, lady and gentleman,” greets a robust man with a thick, long red and grey beard, dressed in an ancient Greek toga, complete with the crown of golden leaves around his head and the flat sandals that lace halfway up his calf.
I’m so thrown off by his abrupt appearance that, at first, I don’t hear him when he tells us we’re in store for wonderful things this evening, as we’ve just turned up in time for dinner at a royal wedding.
I’m confused and ready to ask a million questions, but when Max takes my hand and guides us inside, a part of me relaxes.
Although my brain doesn’t switch completely off, I do loosen up enough to take in my surroundings as we enter a semi-dark walkway behind the guy who’s introduced himself as “Leo.”
Along the stone walls there must be hidden speakers because the sounds of animals and birds fill the air while Max and I both duck and weave around tree leaves and branches from the fake forest around us.
“Yes, here we are,” Leo says when we emerge from the tunneled entrance to a wider space for dining. There are five tables set up with some people already seated. At the front of the room is a small wooden fence that separates the stage from the guests.
“Come. Sit, sit. We’re almost ready to begin,” Leo urges.
“What’s going on?” I lean in and whisper to Max once we’re sitting.
He grins in that way that makes my stomach all warm. “You’ll see.” is all he says before Leo returns with menus to select our meals before the play gets started.
I order a chicken dish while Max goes with the fish.
Leo isn’t gone for two seconds before the lights in the dining area dim and the stage lights shine on a pair of actors.
All it takes is the opening lines of the play to begin when it snaps into place what’s happening.
My favorite play.
I peer over at Max, who’s grinning down at me. I press a quick kiss to his lips. “Thank you,” I whisper before turning back to the actors performing A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
In no time I become enraptured with the characters’ portrayal on the stage, so much so that I hardly touch my dinner. Max asks more than once if I’m sure I don’t want more, but I become too enthralled with the production happening in front of us.
The moment our meal is done a new round of Athenian dressed court characters pile into the room, ushering Max, myself, and the rest of the audience into another part of the building where we hear a woman whining about something.
Once in the new room, we’re given the scene of Lysander and Hermia hatching their plan to run away outside of Athens in order to marry. The characters don’t simply act and communicate with one another.
Hermia grabs onto one of the audience members’ hands, an older man, and cries out “Is that fair?” In regards to her forbidden love.
He shakes his head, bewildered to be questioned, which makes us all chuckle.
At the end of the first scene, we’re ushered to a new room where the Athenian court recap and interact with all of us while passing out drinks. The play and interaction and breaking character to make the audience a part of the entertainment go on and on, scene after scene, act after act.
I so become a part of the world that when the four characters at the heart of this incredibly whimsical yet nuanced play about forbidden love and fairytales descend into the forest, it feels as if we’re truly on the adventure with them.
I cling to Max’s arm when the fairies seemingly pop out of nowhere, making me laugh at my fear. Max wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me to him, protectively. Even though I know there’s nothing to fear here.
Not in this place that’s telling the story of one of my favorite Shakespeare plays. A story I fell in love with as a little girl.
Sometime during Puck dousing a sleeping Lysander’s eyes with his secret love potion, I look up at Max.
I’m unsurprised to find him staring down at me.
In my periphery, I hear a wandering Helena come upon Lysander at the moment he opens his eyes, drunk off the love potion, thinking he’s staring at the love of his life.
My heart knocks against my ribcage.
My body warms, and that’s when I realize Max has just squeezed my hand. I have a fleeting thought about whether or not our dinner meal was perhaps spiked with the same potion Puck inflicted upon Lysander … because that one word I probably shouldn’t be thinking keeps fluttering through my mind.
Love.
No matter how I try to swat it away, it continues its unflappable battering at the recesses of my mind. Or perhaps that’s my heartbeat. Or both my mind and heart.
It’s on the tip of my tongue. The one thing that saves me from committing the ultimate no-no is the brightening of the lights just enough that we make out Leo coming to give a grandiose lyrical summation of all that we’ve witnessed throughout act two of the play.
We’re given a reprieve from the play for light desserts, drinks, and dancing.
Underneath the fairy lights and whimsical music as the cast of fairy characters breeze, hum, and whirl around us, Max takes me into his arms. The smile on his face shoots directly to my heart.
It mirrors my expression and makes me believe he delights in seeing me happy.
“Are you enjoying the show?” he asks, as if to prove my previous thought.
I look around at the splendor, the other guests and audience members dancing and laughing and having a good time, and my heart swells even more.
“I don’t know if my heart could sustain much more enjoyment,” I answer honestly.
He leans in and brushes his lips against mine. The kiss is too light, too fleeting, but perfect at the same time.
“Please don’t get too full on me, princess. We haven’t even reached act five yet.”
I grin, and he holds me tighter, closer. A sigh releases from my lips.
While I lay my head against his shoulder, I’m reminded of the first time Max and I danced together.
That was only about six months ago but so much has changed since then.
I thought I knew who Max Ferreira was back then, but he’s so much more, deeper than I ever suspected.
Maybe I suspected it all along, which is why I chose to let myself hate him for so long.
“What are you thinking about?” His question interrupts my thoughts.
Our eyes catch. “How do you know I’m thinking about anything?”
His eyebrows dip inward, the corners of his mouth pulling slightly as if he’s saying ‘don’t you know by now?’
“You tug at the inside of your bottom lip when you’re thinking too heavily about something like when you’re trying to figure out a puzzle.”
Now it’s my eyebrow that wrinkles.
He leans lower, placing his mouth right next to my ear.
“When you’re confused about something your left eyebrow raises slightly higher than the right, making the left side of your forehead scrunch up.
When you’re solving a problem, you bite the right corner of your lip, literally chewing on the problem until you’ve figured it out.
When you’re concentrating on a race, your mouth transforms into a straight line, your eyes narrow, and your entire body sways from side to side.
“But my favorite of all of your expressions is when you’re completely in awe or taken by a story.
Your eyes sparkle as if there are tiny fairies dancing behind your pupils, your mouth relaxes, opening slightly, and your cheeks turn my favorite shade of red.
Oh, I can’t forget what you look like when you’re fighting for someone you care about, then you—”
I fuse my mouth to his, cutting him off.
Max takes over the kiss, teasing and flaming my already heightened emotions so much that my skin burns. The friction of my clothes against my body is almost too much to bear.
I pull back, panting. “How many acts does this play have?”
Max chuckles, his forehead resting against mine. “It’s almost over, I believe.”
He’s lying. I know he’s lying because this is my favorite play and there are five acts. We’re not even halfway through just yet. But I don’t know if I can wait until it’s over to leave.
“Patience, princess,” he whispers in my ear.
I shiver and do my best to pull myself together. I can’t believe how close I came to tearing this man’s clothes off right here in the middle of Shakespeare’s mystical forest.
The next act begins, and it’s as enchanting as the first two acts were with an enthralling cast of characters played by some of London’s most talented actors, no doubt.
But all I can think of is the man who’s running the tips of his fingers up and down the column of my spine.
Even with my clothing separating our actual skin from touching, the heat from his touch sends me right to the edge of a cliff, teetering like a boulder, unable to decide if it’s ready to take the plunge or if it’s come to a stop.
Sometime later, once Lysander and Hermia, and Demetrius and Helena are allowed to wed and live in eternal bliss, Max and I emerge from the castle-like theater, hand-in-hand.
As soon as we step onto the street, a clap of lightning startles me into Max’s arms. He catches me easily even as his worried gaze is turned up toward the dark, cloud-filled sky. The moment I look up at the sky, the heavens open up and a sheet of water blankets us.
Moving swiftly, Max pulls me across the street, underneath some tree coverage while he digs into his pocket with his free hand.
“The car was supposed to be waiting for us,” he gripes, angrily.
Laughter sounds around us, and it takes me almost as long as it takes Max to recognize that it’s coming from me.
He looks at me with confusion but I’m too busy laughing and lifting onto my tiptoes to answer. My clothes soak through, my hair that I’ve worn loose is getting drenched, and puddles form around my high heels, but I cup Max’s face and steal another kiss.
“Our driver—”
“Can take his time,” I say against his lips, kissing him again. More than warmth and protection from the storm, I want his mouth on mine.
Giving in, he grants me my unspoken wish.
I sigh into him, feeding off of the warmth of his body that the heaviest rains could never dampen.
“Come,” he says a beat later, when our driver finally shows up at the corner. He apologizes as soon as we get in the car, telling us that the police had sealed off his intended parking spot due to the incoming storm.
Max doesn’t look too thrilled at this explanation.
“It’s fine,” I say. “We barely noticed the rain.”
The driver looks at me through the rearview like I have an alien sitting on top of my head. I know he’s seeing droplets of water drip down my face and from my hair, the leather seats getting wetter by the second as we sit on them.
But I don’t feel any of that.
Max pulls out a towel from the center console and wraps it around the back of my neck, attempting to squeeze the water from my hair while lightly patting my face dry. When our gazes meet, my breathing slows.
“How much longer to your place?” I ask low enough for only his ears.
“Too long.” Leaning in, he silences my small moan with a kiss.