~~~
I had forgotten I had thought of the solution to my predicament earlier. And that was to get extremely drunk.
After the Abby epiphany, I drank more wine and Maximus said we’d take a cab back, and then he got in on a few rounds and shots of whisky.
We stayed at the wine bar until it closed. I fielded texts from my parents and Ada wondering where I was and if I was OK and I reassured them I was fine. But I hadn’t expected to stumble out of the bar at 2 a.m.
We both waved drunkenly at the waiter, who was only so happy to see us go as he locked the doors with a resounding click, and Maximus grabbed my arm and led me to the bike path that weaved its way along the dark, churning river and passed through the open park space where homeless bums slept on the benches. It was cold and a little bit frightening, but I felt safe with his hand on me.
And I felt safer two seconds later when his hand slid down my back and wrapped around my waist.
I gazed up at him as we walked, like we were on a romantic middle-of-the-night strol in the waning days of winter. I didn’t know how I felt about him. I felt drunk, that was for sure. I also felt scared, and it wasn’t just about Abby, or about the weird shadows that lurked in the park, or the fact that I would be going home tonight. It was that I knew I didn’t have to go home tonight, and that scared me too. Because the last thing I needed was to get embroiled with another man, especial y this man. As charming a gentleman as Maximus was, he was stil so tightly woven into the story of me and Dex that I didn’t see how any of this could be a good idea.
And when I started to think that maybe I did like him, like him (as Ada would say), I wondered how much of that was real. And how much of that was because I was scared. And how much of that was because I was lonely. And how much of that was because there was something deep inside me that stil craved one final stab of my own revenge. I wasn’t going to pretend I was better than that, that I wasn’t thinking how poetic it would be for me to sleep with Dex’s ex-best friend.
But that was a bit icky. And when Maximus brought me closer to him, I felt al warm and gooey at the strength of his hands and I couldn’t imagine just walking away with nothing happening between us. Lonely, icky, scared…I wanted him and I wanted him badly. I ached for him.
As if picking up on that vibe I was emanating from my lady parts, he stopped at a part of the path that jutted out in a semi-circle, where people would stand on sunny days to take better photographs of the river. I stopped with him and he put his other hand on my side and faced me straight on.
My goodness, he real y was a tal guy. The wind off the river whipped up his hair, messing up his Elvis-like do, and it looked colorless in the cold lights of the city. His eyes were stil green somehow, like a liquid forest, and they stared down into mine. It wasn’t intense or dramatic or even particularly romantic, but I could see the feverish want in them fighting against his ever-present need to be respectful.
“Are you going to kiss me?” I whispered, my voice catching on a damp gust.
He grinned, that sly, lazy smile that only worked one side of his mouth. “I was thinking about it.”
I might need a ladder, was my last thought before he leaned over and placed his lips on mine.
His lips were slightly rough, but they were large and pil owy and stirred up tickles on my tongue that traveled down to the base of my spine. He put one hand behind my head and held me there, the back of my head feeling very smal , and I had the image of a baby bird being cupped between two hands. It was a weird mixture of feeling desire and feeling safe and the longer we made out in that park, his hands never straying from my head or the dent of my side, the safer I felt. Like nothing could touch me except him and as long as I was around him, I would be OK. Dex used to make me feel that way with everything. Except my heart.
I lifted my hands and placed them inside his leather jacket, which was open slightly. I could feel his muscles underneath his silky shirt. He wasn’t rock hard; instead, he looked predestined to carry weight rather than lose it, but his body was stil a pil ar of strength and the more my tiny coral-painted fingers pushed and prodded against him, the more I felt like nothing could knock him over. He was as rooted as a tree. I wanted to borrow some of that strength, take it from him. Just thinking it made my kisses faster, more frenzied.
Final y he pul ed back and moved his hand around to the side of my face. It was warm against my cold cheek that was braised by the chil ing wind.
“It’s getting late,” he said, his voice uneven. He cleared his throat.
“It already is late,” I whispered, not wanting to stop.
“And cold,” he said as he pul ed my cardigan around me. “You need something warmer than this.”
“You’l do,” I said. I was surprised at my boldness.
Maximus was too.
“I’m pretty hot, I’l admit that,” he said slyly, then chuckled at himself. “But we need to be inside a warm cab before you get pneumonia.”
He gave me a quick peck on the lips, then took my hand in his and led me back to the path. Now that the makeout session was over, the terrors and shadows that lurked in the back of mind were free to play. I didn’t want to go home.
I couldn’t. Abby would be there.