Sugar Rush (Friend-Zoned #3)(29)
Author: Belle Aurora

I feel the pain in his voice. Part of me wishes I could wrap my arms around him and hug him until the pain melts away with my warm embrace. But that would be insane, so I’ll just sit here, staring back at him with a blank expression on my face.

Nice.

James pulls up his schedule. “I had a cancellation this morning. I can get her in as early as tomorrow afternoon, right after school.”

Max quickly stands and reaches over the desk to take James’ hand in an enthusiastic shake. “I owe you, man. Thanks. We’ll be here tomorrow around three.”

I don’t even think he realizes he does it, but Max turns, leans down, kisses me on top of my head, and then leaves. The place where he kissed me warms, and I want to feel that warmth on my lips.

As soon as he leaves, James asks me, “You sure this isn’t going to be uncomfortable for you?”

I lie through my teeth. “Not at all.”

***

Helena

Max was on my mind all afternoon. I saved his phone number from the voicemails he left me. I was so tempted to call, or message, or something. I heard his voice when he spoke about Ceecee. He looked right at me. Into me. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believe someone like the flirty, carefree Max I had built up in my mind was capable of such deep emotion. And it seriously rocked something inside of me.

I’m a judgey bitch. That’s what it comes down to. I want to change. I made a vow to myself today. I would stop judging and start accepting. What happened with Max at Nat’s wedding happened. I’m willing to accept I was bitter. My bitterness was caused by rejection, whether he knew it or not. But he was right. Our friends and families are interwoven, and to hold a grudge over something so stupid is, well, stupid.

We can be friends. I can do this. It won’t be hard. Not at all. So what if he looks like a god and smells like the tears of Jesus? Pffft! No problem. We got this. I just have to make sure he never knows I considered him my fantasy fling for a long, long time. And that will be a cinch. I never told my sisters. Hell, I never told anyone!

Speaking of dream guys…

Stepping out of the shower, I wrap a towel around my hair, and then myself. I throw open the door and head over to my hand luggage. The zip comes open with a sharp tug and I see him. I breathe, “Johnny.”

My hands are gentle as I undo the rubber band securing my main man. As soon as I see his face, I break into a smile. But his face is not impressed. My stomach muscles clench. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ve been busy.” I swear, his brow rises, marginally. I swear it. I huff out an annoyed, “Yeah, well, some of us have jobs, Johnny.” I don’t like the attitude I’m being given. “You wanna stay in the freaking luggage?” If he could roll his eyes, he would.

I unravel him and lay him on my bed. I towel myself off. My gaze veers to the bed to find the upper-half of the poster curls up, so he’s looking at my naked body. My nose bunches. “Perv.”

I dress in jeans and a black tee that reads ‘Classy, sassy, and smart assy’, which was a gag gift from Nina for my last birthday. Being that I’m actually wearing it would bring her to tears. I was mean to be offended. I love it!

Slipping on my white sneakers and placing my phone in my back pocket, I’m just about to head out the door when I spot the mini whiteboard Max left on my kitchen counter. And my heart sinks. It takes me no more than a second before I pick up the whiteboard and head out of my apartment. I ring the bell at apartment 309.

Mrs. Crandle opens the door, dressed in a robe with her thick coke-bottle glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose. Confusion crosses her face. “Yes, dear?”

Taking the whiteboard marker, I quickly write, ‘Am I still invited to tea?’

I hold up the whiteboard and her face morphs into stunned disbelief. A surprised smile tilts her lips. “Of course! Come on in. I’ll get the water boiling.” She disappears down the hall. For a little woman, she’s quick. I let myself in and close the door behind me. When I turn, it takes me a moment to wrap my head around what I’m seeing. My feet are glued to the spot. I’m so shocked my mouth gapes.

Three large black and white photographs hang side-by-side on the living room wall. The first is a portrait of a young woman in her twenties, sporting pin-up curls, a lithe body in a revealing but tasteful leotard, and she wears a smile so pretty I have to smile in return.

The second image is a group shot with approximately thirty people in it. I’m quickly drawn to the third image. The man in the photograph doesn’t smile. Looking to be in his thirties, he scowls into the camera, looking fierce and angry. He wears a crew cut, and the muscles he flexes are bulging ridiculously. He is a tank.

“Don’t let his expression fool you. He was an absolute teddy bear,” Mrs. Crandle utters from behind me. I almost jump out of my skin. My heart racing, with a squeak, I lift a hand to my heaving chest. She laughs softly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

A sheepish expression crosses my face. I write, ‘That’s okay. I scare easily.’ After another peek at the photographs, I write, ‘Your husband?’

She looks up at the photo and nods. “Yes. That’s my Chester.” She mutters, “He wasn’t just my husband though.” She looks up at me, wistfully. “He was my whole world. I would’ve followed him anywhere.” She shakes her head and chuckles. “In fact, I did.”

Wiping away my previous writing, I pen with a disbelieving smile, ‘You were carnies?’

Without answering, she reaches over to gently take my arm. “Come sit, dear. Tea will be ready in just a moment.” As we reach the sofa, she shakes her head in confusion. “I’m sorry, I must have forgotten your name.”

I shake my head. ‘I don’t think you heard me when I told you. My name is Helena.’

She reads quickly and smiles. “My, what a pretty name.” Her little feet lead her away, and she calls out, “Tea should be done by now.”

Cups rattle, cutlery clinks and finally, Mrs. Crandle returns with a teapot and teacups on a serving tray with cookies. I have to admit, the tea smells lovely, and the cookies look divine. My stomach rumbles.

Down, girl.

As I reach forward to pour, Mrs. Crandle intervenes. “I may be a dinosaur, but I can still pour tea, Helena.” She ends on a wink, and I thank God I didn’t make this spontaneous visit awkward.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I take it out and check the display.