Chapter Thirty-Six
As I walk through the zoo, the sun is only starting to dip towards the horizon, staining the sky a faded purple.
Twinkle lights line the main walkway, the faint grumblings of the animals carrying over the elevator muzak that plays from hidden speakers.
I hide my backpack containing my hoodie, black jeans and a couple of extra protection charms I made behind a decorative boulder near the Mane Grill, slipping one of them into the tiny leather clutch Sam loaned me.
Spotlights illuminate the orange brick facade of the Amazonia exhibit.
Before going inside, I stand across the walkway and stare up at it, goosebumps speckling my arms. An hour.
All I have to do is go for an hour. Show Max that I’m proud of him, that I appreciate him, that I’m not the type of person that just befriends people and then uses them to get to their evil dads.
Ushers in matching black suits lead the steady stream of guests in tuxes and ballgowns through to the science gallery.
There, the tall, nearly floor-length windows have each been decorated with a curtain of twinkle lights that reflect off the glass and make the whole room sparkle.
Large potted monsteras, palms and plants whose leaves are striped with pinks, yellows and pale greens, circle the columns around the room, looming down so that the space feels like an actual jungle the creatures in the surrounding tanks might recognise as home.
A DJ booth lit with a pale blue glow is stationed beneath one of the tall windows, but no music can be heard over the deafening boom of the guests.
There have to be close to two hundred people here, including the staff rushing around in all black, balancing trays of champagne flutes and tiny food on their shoulders.
Pressing the clutch to my stomach, I scan the crowd, eyes landing on a familiar mop of red-brown curls that darts off towards where I know the caterers are supposed to be.
Max. But as I cross the space to follow him, a man in a shiny black suit, his green tie just slightly off centre, blocks my path.
‘Indie,’ Rick says, latching on to my arm. ‘Look who’s miraculously recovered! What’re you doing here?’
Rick wasn’t exactly thrilled about me missing a week of work, but he’d been surprisingly neutral when I talked to him on the phone, something I had a feeling was down to Max. He starts to tug me towards an emergency exit. I wiggle my arm to shake him off, but his sweaty fingers hold tight.
‘I’m not here to work,’ I say. ‘Max—’
‘Look, I know you think Max is your ticket up the corporate ladder,’ Rick leans in close, his breath reeking of cream cheese, ‘but you can’t just show up to a private event and expect—’
‘My ticket up the corporate ladder?’ I say. I don’t know whether to laugh or scream. ‘Do you really think I give a—’
‘Indie!’
Max appears in front of us, champagne flutes in each hand. In spite of the drive-thru headset squashing down his hair, my throat goes dry, gaze settling on his perfectly tailored suit and the crisp white shirt underneath.
‘Don’t worry, I’m taking care of this,’ Rick says to him, his fingers tightening around my arm. ‘I don’t know how she got in, but—’
‘I do,’ Max says simply. ‘She’s with me.’
His eyes sweep down my blue dress, which now fits perfectly, the fabric slithering gently along my non-existent hips. I tuck a chunk of hair behind my ear, every inch of my exposed skin prickling under his gaze.
Rick’s head swivels between me and Max like he can’t understand how or why salad royalty would mingle with pizza trash like me. I finally manage to wrench my arm free from his grasp, where his hotdog fingers have left white imprints on my skin.
Max pats Rick on the shoulder and says cheerfully, ‘Someone just dropped a whole tray of smoked trout croquettes by the poison dart frogs.’
‘Oh God,’ Rick says. ‘Of course they did.’
He weaves back through the crowd, his bald head looking dewy under the twinkle lights. Max’s eyes shift to mine, his mouth curving in a smile that takes over his whole face.
‘Hi!’ he exclaims animatedly, stretching out his arms. It’s exactly how we greeted each other that night at his house, and I wonder if he remembers, if he still thinks about it. ‘Welcome to the shit show.’
I tilt my face up. I can almost feel the twinkle lights’ warm white burn on my cheeks.
‘It looks incredible,’ I say.
Max’s smile immediately dims to one of shyness. ‘Yeah?’ he says, chewing his lip. ‘You think so?’
‘Definitely.’
He gestures down to the champagne glasses in his hands. ‘I was just taking these to the caterers. Do you wanna wait here and I’ll be right back? Then I can give you the tour.’
‘You don’t have to worry about me, I know you have to …’ I start to say, but Max waves me off.
‘No, no, I want to.’ He smiles. ‘Don’t move.’
Once he’s gone again, I pull out my phone and thumb a text to Sam.
Indie
Ok lots of people here are really dressed up but I don’t look THAT out of place
She texts back almost instantly:
Sam
I TOLD YOU
Indie
Thanks again for helping me get ready on such short notice ?
Sam
Literally always bb
Sam
How does Max look???
Just reading that question, my throat tightens again. How does Max look? Max looks …
Indie
Fine
Indie
Fine as in GOOD, not fine as in like, daaaayum he’s fine
Indie
MAX LOOKS FINE
Sam
I bet he does
She at least had the decency to keep her mouth shut about Max as she helped curl my hair into soft waves this afternoon, only nodding primly when I said I was just going to the gala with Max as friends.
Not as his date, even if he told Rick I was ‘with him’.
It meant absolutely nothing – that’s why I’m not going to say anything to Sam about it now.
She’d make it into a whole thing, which it isn’t.
Max reappears just as I slip my phone back in my purse.
‘Ready?’ he asks.
When I nod, he places a soft hand on the small of my back and guides me towards the middle of the room. I can feel every one of his fingertips through the thin fabric of my dress, but I try not to think about it, and focus instead on not tripping over my strappy leather heels.
Together, Max and I zigzag across the gallery.
Ten circular tables fill the main floor, decorated with parakeet-green linen tablecloths.
Sitting atop placemats made from braided straw are stacks of three simple china plates, each decked with fuchsia-pink napkins.
Small brass candle holders are scattered around each centrepiece, which consists of a tall glass vase containing tropical flowers.
There are angular birds of paradise, spikey palm fronds, clouds of ginger in vibrant yellows and pinks.
Max shows me each individual detail on the tables, from the recycled bamboo handles on the cutlery to the tiny embroidered geckos on the napkins.
Walking around, it’s impossible not to be impressed – Max has thought of absolutely everything.
‘You and me can just eat dinner at our table when the time comes,’ he says. ‘In the meantime, I thought we could hang out here. It’s quieter, anyway.’
We stop in front of a closed door marked PRIVATE.
Max retrieves a ring of keys from his pocket and unlocks it.
The only things inside the room are a small, dark-grey couch and a tiny table with two folding chairs.
It’s nowhere near as glamorous as the set-up outside, but he’s right – once Max shuts the door, it’s practically silent.
Smoothing down my dress, I try to drop on to the couch as delicately as possible. Sam spent thirty minutes with her mom’s steamer trying to get every single wrinkle out of the fabric, and warned me against sitting weirdly under penalty of death.
Thirty minutes have passed since I got here, which means I’ve got another thirty left.
I still don’t know what excuse I’m going to give Max when I leave, but as he sinks on to the couch beside me, all thoughts of anything other than the side of his body pressed against mine leave my head.
The couch is so small, there’s no way to avoid us touching.
‘Ten minutes, got it,’ Max says.
I frown. Did I say the part about thirty minutes out loud?
‘What?’ I say.
‘Oh, sorry.’ Max smiles sheepishly and points to his headset.
‘This thing is connected to the suits so I can hear every crisis in real time. Clogged toilets, who threw up in the spoonbill exhibit. You know, the essentials.’ He clears his throat.
‘You look really beautiful, by the way. I should’ve said that at the beginning, but Rick threw me off with his whole, you know, Rick thing. ’
I press my lips together, a small smile tugging at the corners. ‘Thanks,’ I say, my cheeks flaring.
When I glance up at him, Max is looking at me, gnawing his lower lip. His forehead is furrowed, like he’s smelled something weird.
‘What?’ I say, twisting to face him.
‘Nothing,’ he says quickly. ‘I mean, not nothing, I guess. I’ve just been thinking …
’ Max pulls one leg up underneath him. He rips the headset from his head and tosses it, along with the connected battery pack, on to the table a few feet away.
‘It’s just – I know we agreed to be friends, and that’s totally cool.
It’s great, actually. You’re great. But after last weekend, at your house and what you told me, I just – I couldn’t help but think that maybe you saying you just wanted to be friends might have something to do with the curse. ’
I blink at him, my whole body stilling.
‘It made me wonder,’ he looks down at his lap, ‘if maybe after we break the curse, you might want to possibly … reconsider … ?’ He swallows hard, then shakes his head.
‘God, that sounded so stupid. Look, if you just want to be friends, I cannot stress enough how totally fine that is. I get it, seriously.’
As his nervous babble fills the room, all I can do is stare at him.
He swipes his hand up and down the back of his head, body practically bubbling with worry.
He’s right, of course; the curse is why I said I just wanted to be friends, but obviously that’s not all of it.
From the moment I met Max, all I could see were the sharp lines of his jaw, the gold-brown eyes.
His dad’s jaw, his dad’s eyes. But sitting here now, all I can see is Max – sweet, shy, silly, understanding Max. The exact opposite of his dad.
‘Yes.’
The word slips out of me without thought, before I even realise it’s on its way.
Max’s anxious rambling cuts off abruptly. ‘Yes?’ he repeats.
I nod. ‘Yes,’ I say again, swallowing. ‘I would want to – I’d do that. Reconsider, I mean.’
His body slumps against the couch cushions, an exhausted smile engulfing his face. ‘That’s – wow, that’s really cool,’ he says, breathless. He blinks down at his hands, as though he can’t quite believe this is real. ‘I feel like we should commemorate this moment.’
I snort a laugh. ‘What, with like, a plaque?’
He digs his phone out of his pocket. ‘Or a photo.’
Max taps through to Snapchat, where our faces immediately appear on his screen.
We both scootch in until our shoulders are touching, Max’s left arm stretched out to hold his phone.
In the reflection, his smile is easy, his eyes bright.
Magnetic. I turn to look at him right before he takes the picture, the camera refocusing just in time so that I’m not blurry.
‘You weren’t looking.’ He laughs, peering down at the picture.
But before he can delete it, I grab his wrist. ‘Wait,’ I say.
In the photo, my eyes are fixed on Max, my mouth softened with a smile.
It’s an expression I haven’t seen on my face in a long time, the look of complete ease.
The realisation of what it is hits me with a jolt.
What it means. In spite of the fact that I’ve been running in the exact opposite direction of my feelings for Max, that I’ve done everything I can not to think about him, this whole time – I’ve been falling in love with him. For real.
‘You’re right, I’ll keep it,’ Max says as he sends the picture to his Story. ‘Starting tomorrow, we can—’
His voice fades underneath the panic now rising in my head like water filling a tub.
Because if I’ve been falling in love with Max, that means he’s not safe.
Not until I can break the curse. I know it’s gotten so unpredictable that whether or not I actually think I love someone doesn’t seem to make a difference, but I can’t take the risk.
I have to get out of here to – what, though?
I can’t really break into Max’s house now. Can I?
‘I shouldn’t be here,’ I say suddenly.
But before I can surge to my feet, Max’s hand rests on my arm, stilling me. ‘Indie,’ he says. So, so gently. ‘I’m not afraid of you.’
My chest heaves as I stare at him, but I don’t think I could stand any more even if I tried.
Max’s face gets closer to mine, mere inches that feel like lightyears.
It takes a few seconds for me to realise it’s not him that’s leaning in.
It’s me. Max’s eyes flick down to my mouth, sending my heart into a flurry of eager beats. But I can’t – I shouldn’t—
He leans in further, close enough that the slope of his upper lip grazes mine.
My lids flutter closed as Max’s hand reaches up to cup my cheek.
Just as his fingers land on my skin, the door to the green room whooshes open, letting in a swell of noise from the gala.
Max and I immediately fly apart, my face so hot I might actually spontaneously erupt into flames.
Max pulls me up as he shoots to his feet, embarrassment, shock and confusion flying across his face before finally ending on elation.
‘Oh my God!’ he exclaims, his voice high and shaky. ‘I didn’t think you … what’re you doing here?’
‘Surprise!’ the person behind me shouts.
Hands on my shoulders, Max spins me around so that I’m pointed at the doorway.
Standing face to face with Austin Taylor.