Chapter Nineteen
Nineteen
Stella was determined to leave all thoughts of work and the upcoming Sprint Week at the office when she left to meet Max.
He’d invited her to meet him at a restaurant called Plantain Chips and Salsa. The name alone already had her excited, and looking at the menu made her mouth water.
As the name suggested, the place served a variety of Latin dishes, stemming from chips and salsa to ropa vieja.
Stella was most excited to try the pineapple-glazed ham with yellow rice and plantains.
She figured it was probably best to avoid the black beans it was also supposed to come with. Tonight was not the night to be gassy.
When she stepped into the restaurant, she was immediately enveloped by the smell of good food and the sounds of salsa music from a live band in the back. The place was dimly lit, and it took her a minute to spot Max at one of the tables alongside the dance floor in the middle of the room.
Even from a distance he looked good. He was intently focused on his phone, his head bowed and his broad shoulders hunched in a way that made Stella’s own back hurt just looking at him.
He was wearing a pressed shirt that looked perfectly tailored to his frame and dark pants, although she couldn’t tell if they were actually black or if it was too dark to make out the color.
“Hello, table for one?”
The ma?tre d’ stepped out from behind the host stand to greet Stella.
“I’m actually meeting that guy over there,” Stella said, pointing to Max.
“Oh, excellent. He just got here only a minute ago, so you’re right on time.”
Stella was actually a whole minute early, but of course Max was earlier than she was.
She got the feeling that he was the kind of person who thought being early was on time and being on time was late.
Her dad was the same way, but Stella had inherited her mother’s tendency to be always running a little late.
She was thankful she left work a smidge early to ensure she’d be here on time.
The ma?tre d’ led Stella to Max’s table, and when he noticed her he stood with a smile, greeting her with a hug.
“Oh hello,” Stella said. She wrapped her arms around his middle as he pulled her in tight.
Stella melted instantly, loving the feel of his strong arms around her.
Plus, he smelled good. Just enough cologne that she wanted to get even closer, but not so much that it was overpowering her senses, like the guys in her high school who used to bathe in AXE Body Spray.
“Hi,” he murmured into her hair. He stepped back a bit so he could look down at her. Stella’s Docs gave her about an inch of extra height, so he still towered over her quite a bit, but she loved it.
“Miss me?” he asked.
Stella laughed. “Maybe a little. Although I think we’ve talked almost every day this week.”
“Yes, but talking is not the same as seeing,” he said. He lowered his head so his mouth was by her ear when he whispered, “And touching. And tasting.”
His words sent a shiver down her spine as she suspected it was supposed to, based on the wicked grin she saw on his face when he pulled back.
Stella decided two could play that game. She stepped forward, reached up on her tippy toes, and wrapped her arms around him, tugging him back down.
“We’ve done the seeing and the touching, but I don’t think I’ve gotten a taste yet,” she said.
Max’s eyes widened in surprise, and truthfully Stella was a little surprised herself, but then he kissed her and every other thought was forgotten.
It’d been a week since the last time they kissed, and now Max was kissing her like he couldn’t get enough.
His hands moved to her waist as he held her close, putting his tongue to good use, eliciting a moan from her before he finally pulled back.
It took Stella a few blinks to remember they were in a restaurant, also known as a public place.
She noticed the ma?tre d’ had quietly slipped away at some point, leaving them to their own devices.
Still, Stella clocked a few of the other diners quickly glancing away, and one elderly couple shook their heads in disapproval.
Stella buried her face in Max’s shoulder.
“Did we just make out in front of the whole restaurant?” she asked.
Stella could feel his chuckle as he said, “I believe we did.”
“I’ve literally never done anything like that,” she said, pulling away. “You’ve bewitched me!”
“I actually don’t dabble in brujería, I’ll have you know.”
Stella rolled her eyes and finally forced herself to step out of his grasp. She began to shrug out of her coat, and Max stepped behind her, helping her take it off and then placing it on the back of her chair. He then remained standing, gliding the chair back in as she sat down.
The bar for men must’ve been in hell, because that gesture was enough to make Stella wet.
Or maybe that was the kiss.
When Max slid into his own seat, he was wearing a knowing, cocky grin. Stella picked up her menu so she wouldn’t have to meet his heated gaze.
“Have you been here before?” she asked.
“A few times,” he said. “The ropa vieja quesadilla with maduros is my favorite.”
Stella glanced up at him. When Stella said any of those words, it took her effort to get the pronunciation exactly right, and she still wasn’t confident she didn’t come off sounding like a gringa. However, when Max said them, well, it was the first time she’d ever heard his accent.
She closed her menu. It wasn’t like she didn’t already know what she was getting.
“You should speak Spanish more,” she said.
Max followed her example, closing his menu and setting it aside on top of hers.
“I think we’ve established I’m not very good at it,” he said.
“You sound pretty perfect to me,” she said, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was blushing.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said almost sheepishly.
Their waiter arrived then, halting their conversation briefly so they could order. When the waiter disappeared, Stella eyed the dance floor before focusing her attention back on Max.
“No one’s dancing,” she said.
Max looked over to the dance floor and then checked his watch.
“I’d give it a little time,” he said. “It’s still early. This place starts to feel like a night club around eight.”
Stella checked her own watch. It was only a little after six. Her disappointment must’ve shown on her face.
“Do you want to dance?” Max asked.
She shook her head. “Not if we’re the only ones out there. I don’t even really know how to dance salsa.”
“I can show you.”
“You can salsa?”
Stella didn’t mean to sound so skeptical, but he was the one who said he was raised by white parents who couldn’t speak Spanish. If he learned how to salsa, she knew that didn’t happen at home.
“I took lessons a few years ago,” he said.
Stella nodded. There it was.
“You just randomly decided to take salsa lessons?”
“Uh, no, I—”
Their waiter returned with their drinks, cutting off Max’s reply. Stella, like any decent human being, never wanted to rush a server along or continue speaking like they weren’t there, but she was desperate to know what Max was about to say.
Stella waited a beat after the waiter walked away again, taking a sip of her cocktail, which was delicious, before prompting Max to continue.
“You were saying?”
“Um, right, so the salsa lessons,” Max said. “I took them with an ex of mine.”
Stella expected this answer and still, for some reason, it felt like a punch to the gut. Max had a history. Of course he did. Most people did. Stella was the odd one who didn’t. Not unless going on two dates with someone and kissing them once counted as history.
Somehow she doubted it.
“Oh, just for fun?” Stella asked.
She hoped she sounded as nonchalant as she wanted to feel about this. They were only casually hooking up anyway. What did it matter if Max had an ex? Or two? Or maybe even three? What even constituted an ex?
He wouldn’t have taken dance lessons with someone he was seeing only casually, so it had to be serious.
But he said a few years ago so it couldn’t have been recent.
Unless they took the dance lessons a few years ago but they broke up recently.
That would explain why he was at a sex club on Valentine’s Day. He was rebounding!
“Stella.”
Max was waving a hand in front of Stella’s face, and she blinked. Oh God, how long had she spiraled?
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I said, yes, it was just for fun,” Max said. He thankfully seemed unbothered by her space-cadet moment. In fact, he seemed slightly fidgety, like maybe there was more to this story that he wasn’t saying.
“It was actually a salsa class for guys,” Max said.
He wasn’t meeting her eye anymore, and Stella had to duck her head a bit to make eye contact.
“Like to teach guys how to salsa?” she asked. “How does that work? Don’t you need a partner to salsa?”
Max huffed out a laugh, although it lacked humor, and began rubbing his neck.
“You do,” he said. “I don’t know why I’m beating around the bush with this, but yes, it was a guys’ salsa class, as in everyone was a guy. My boyfriend at the time wanted to try it, and it was fun, so we stuck with the whole six-week class.”
His last sentence came out in a rush, and it took Stella a second to parse the words.
“Your boyfriend?”
“Yeah,” Max said, the word coming out on a sigh. He grabbed his beer and took a long swig, tilting his head back. He put the bottle back down on the table, but he didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, so he began spinning the bottle in between his fingers.
Stella realized that this was the first time since she’d met Max that he was nervous.
She reached across the table, covering his hand with hers until he finally stilled.
“So are you bi or pan?” she asked. “I tend to flip-flop between the two and usually just go with queer if anyone asks.”
It seemed to take Max a second to register what she was saying, but when he did, his eyes finally met and held hers again, although he still seemed hesitant.