by Monroe, Max
“There isn’t a next step,” she says with ease and slides the tube of lip gloss back into her small, gold clutch.
What? No next step?
Anxiety fills up my chest like a balloon.
“What do you mean, there isn’t a next step? You’re supposed to be my dating Yoda! How can there not be a next step?”
“Maybe baby, relax.” She sets her purse on the counter and places two steady hands on my shoulders. “I’m not sure if you’ve been paying close attention, but you’re the one who’s been running the show the whole time.”
My face contorts into utter confusion.
“I might’ve put some ideas into your head, given a few hints on what I think you should do, but when it comes down to it, you’ve been the one in control, honey.”
“Uh…” I blink once, twice, and three more times. “I’m not following.”
“Girl,” she says through a soft laugh. “All of my suggestions have always ended up with Maybe’s spin on things… The sext messages… The TapNext dating advice… Hell, I’m certain I wasn’t the one to suggest a night of Gilmore Girls and a blow job.” She winks one smoky eye toward me. “You name it, and you’ve always done it your way. Not my way. But your way.”
She searches my face for a long moment, but it’s not long before she’s laying it all out there for me.
“You need to let yourself accept that Milo has been more than a participant in this,” she states without even the slightest hint of doubt in her voice. “As much as you’ve texted him or initiated things with him, he’s more than reciprocated. Whether he’s admitted that to himself yet or not, the man is invested. In you. What you’re feeling isn’t one-sided. No doubt, he’s falling too.”
I try to make sense of her words.
Milo is falling too?
Could Lena really be right about this? Or has all of my wishful thinking rubbed off on her?
“Okay…so…hypothetically… Say you’re right. If you were me, what would you do now?”
“I think it’s safe to say you’ve reached a point where rationality isn’t really a thing. There is no planning at this juncture.”
Lord Almighty, it would be nice if she’d stop speaking in riddles.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Girl, your heart is involved now. And, unfortunately for all of us, the heart does what it wants. She’s a bit of a confusing bitch that way.”
Ugh. For some strange reason, her words don’t bring the relief I was hoping for.
I much preferred things when I felt like I had some kind of control. Like I had some form of guidance to follow.
To just be out on a fucking limb with my goddamn fingers and toes crossed and offering up hopeful prayers that Milo really does feel what I’m feeling is quite the opposite of reassuring. I might as well be tightrope walking two hundred feet in the air with Evan and Sadie’s wedding cake in my hands.
It’s pretty fucking terrifying, if I’m being honest.
What if Lena isn’t right and everything comes crashing down?
And what if my dumb heart screws things up?
She’s never really been the brightest crayon in the box when it comes to love. Until Milo, the little bitch hasn’t done much besides remain apathetic toward any possible love interest that’s come my way. Hell, I’m starting to wonder if she commandeered a TV back in my college days and was all Netflix and chill behind my rib cage.
And here I thought finding a man was going to be easy.
I seemed to have forgotten to calculate the whole “falling in love” aspect on my “Maybe Becomes an Adult” checklist.
Ugh. Now, what?
I look at my reflection in the mirror and then back at Lena.
“Do you think this is going to end in a disaster?” The words are almost too difficult to speak out loud, and my question comes out in a barely there whisper.
“You want my honest opinion?”
I swallow down the anxiety and insecurity sitting heavy against my throat and nod.
“No,” she says. “There can’t be a disaster when your auras mesh together like they do.”
Auras. Good Lord. Sometimes, she is so out there, it makes me laugh.
I mean, right now, I’m not laughing, but that’s par for the course when second-guessing and overthinking and anxiety show up to the party. That little trio sure has a way of sucking all the fun out of the room.
“You realize, I still have no idea what you’re talking about, right?”
“Yeah, but that’s what makes it fun.” Lena snorts. “Listen, auras aside, I know what I see, and when I saw the two of you together the other night, I saw a man with genuine eyes looking at a girl like she was walking on water.”
I stare at her like she has two heads.
“You might not believe it now, but sooner rather than later, you’re going to completely let your guard down and allow yourself to pay close enough to attention to see, know, and feel what I’m saying.”
God, I hope she’s right.
But hope isn’t a guarantee.
I guess all I can do is keep my heart open and pray like hell he accepts it with open arms.
“All right,” Lena says and grabs her purse off the counter. “Now it’s time to go dance our asses off and celebrate the fact that you had a fan-fucking-tastic interview today! Let’s do the damn thing, honey!”
Am I ready? No, not really.
But hopefully, by the time we get to the club, and I’ve managed a glass of wine or two, I’ll get there.
Paul’s Cocktail Lounge in Tribeca is unlike any nightclub I’ve ever been to.
The bouncers’ standards are insanely high—pretty much denying anyone who isn’t famous or doesn’t know a friend of a friend of a friend. Thankfully, Lena knows everyone, so the instant we stepped up to the entrance, a large, burly man by the name of Vito flashed a wink and a nod and opened up the red velvet rope to let us through.
I’m certain if I’d shown up here by myself, access would have been denied.
Once we step inside, my senses are hit from all angles. Pounding beats coming from the DJ at the center of the room. A hoard of people on the dance floor. Servers in cute dresses and a hip take on tuxedos rove around the club with silver drink trays. And bright floral wallpaper covers the walls, while the whole space is accented by reclaimed wood and dark leather.
This is the place to lose yourself to the music and dance.
And, after two glasses of wine and a round of dancing with Lena, I am here for it.
The DJ announces that we’ve officially hit the eleven o’clock hour, and I’ve yet to spot Milo anywhere. I discreetly check my phone just in case he tried to get ahold of me.
But no messages. No calls. Nothing.
Disappoint floods my belly, but I force myself to ignore it.
I came here to have a good time. To have a few drinks, dance, let loose, and celebrate that I’m possibly one step closer to getting the job of my dreams.
Not sit at the bar by myself and watch the time pass me by.
I spot Lena in the center of the dance floor, her long blond locks swaying across her back as she dances with an attractive-looking man in a white T-shirt and dark blue jeans. He grabs her by the waist and pulls her closer, and she grins up at him, never once stopping the rhythmic movement of her hips.
Within the five minutes I took to pee and grab a glass of water at the bar, she’s managed to hook herself a dance partner. A good-looking one, at that.
I grin to myself, amused by the girl who has managed to insert herself into my life and become one of my closest friends. Thank God for Lena. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without her at this point.
And then, I put on my big-girl panties and head to the dance floor.
It doesn’t take long before I’m losing myself to the music, shaking my hips and raising my hands in the air and just letting go.
I don’t care that I’m by myself.
I don’t care that occas
ionally I get bumped by my fellow dancers.
I don’t care about anything besides having fun.
Lena grins at me from the other side of the room, and I smile back.
She’s having fun. Her new handsome friend is having fun. And I’m having fun.
Just one big fest o’ fun right here.
By the second song, I’ve officially committed myself to my dancing queen cause.
But by the third song, I’m no longer by myself. Strong hands gently grip my hips from behind and pull me back toward a firm chest. Warm breath brushes my neck as the words, “I thought I’d never find you” fill my ear.
I turn on my heels to find my favorite blue eyes gazing down at me.
Milo.
My heart kicks up in speed, and a smile kisses my lips. “I didn’t think you were going to come,” I say toward him, and immediately, he shakes his head.
“Of course, I was going to come.”
Like he’d never let me down.
Like he wants to be here. With me.
In that moment, with his ocean eyes gazing down at me and his hands pulling me closer, I know I’m in deep. This isn’t just a crush. And I’m not merely falling for this man.
Nope. I’ve already fallen.
Right past infatuation. Barreling away from like. And directly into love.
The realization makes my chest tighten, but Milo doesn’t give me any time to get lost in my thoughts. With a handsome little smirk on his lips, he takes me by the hand, twirls me away from his body, before bringing me right back into the strong embrace of his arms.
I giggle and he grins.
“Let’s dance, kid.”
So, we do.
For five full songs, we shake our asses and move our hips. We laugh and we smile and we dance. Together.
Through each pounding beat, we stay as close as two people can be while they are fully clothed and dancing in the middle of a crowded nightclub.
And God, it feels good.
Letting loose with him. Being with him. Touching him.
Which, I do. I never take my hands off of him.
His firm chest. His strong arms. His warm neck. There isn’t a second that goes by when my fingers aren’t playfully in contact with Milo.
And I’m not the only one.
Not once does he let me go. His hands are always guiding my hips or skimming the curve of my ass or gently running up and down the bare skin of my arms.
We can’t seem to keep our hands off each other. I fucking love it.
“I feel like a bastard for not telling you earlier,” he whispers into my ear. “But you look beautiful tonight.”
I look up at him and search his eyes. For what, I don’t know, but I can’t deny there is something resting behind those blue orbs. Something that makes my heart stutter and has my breath getting all tangled up inside my lungs.
God, this man. I’m so in love with him, it’s not even funny.
“Thank you for showing up tonight.” I stand on my tippy-toes to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m glad you came.”
“I didn’t want to be anywhere else.”
Me either.
A sexy, seductive beat starts to play from the speakers, and Milo reaches down to grip my hips and slowly guide my body to match his rhythm.
Rihanna. “Love on the Brain.”
The lyrics speak to me.
And the beat only further fuels my need for him, to deeper, more intense depths.
He slides his thigh between my legs, and I wrap my arms around his neck, sliding my fingers into his hair. Our faces are mere inches from each other. His warm breath brushes my skin, and his eyes stay locked with mine.
He glances down at my lips, and my nipples harden.
He slides his hands up my hips, up the sides of my abdomen, until his fingers brush just below my breasts.
Goose bumps erupt on my skin, and my breaths come out in soft pants.
He slips his fingers into my hair, and it takes two blinks for his lips to move to mine.
Soft and teasing at first, just tiny kisses and licks against my mouth.
Until the kiss intensifies, and our tongues mingle and dance.
A tiny moan escapes my throat, and he swallows it down, kissing me deeper, harder.
It drives me crazy.
I ache and throb between my thighs, and now, I understand why people want to have sex. Now, I understand why sex is something that, when it’s with the right person, you can’t resist. You want it. You need it. You crave it.
Fuck, I want to know what Milo feels like inside me.
I want him to feel me. All of me.
I want to feel his climax.
I want to hear his moans.
And I want to see what his blue eyes look like when he is sliding inside me.
I want it all. And I want it with him.
“Do you want to get out of here?” he whispers into my ear.
It’s like he’s reading my mind.
And it takes me exactly zero seconds to agree.
“Yes, please.”
Milo
I had to get us out of there.
Between the feel of her warm, tight, perfect little body against mine and those big brown eyes of hers staring up at me and the way she kissed me with the kind of fervor that had my cock hardening behind my zipper, I needed to get her out of that fucking club and somewhere that didn’t have an audience.
Somewhere private. Quiet. That doesn’t include anyone but us.
Once she told Lena we were leaving, we didn’t waste any time grabbing a cab and heading straight to her apartment.
Evan’s old bachelor pad.
Good God, I know this place too well.
Parties. Drunken bar nights. A lot of wild shit went down here.
I witnessed Ev meet his wife-to-be in this very space.
He was several beers deep, but once his drunken gaze fixated on the little redhead who stepped through his door, it was like he instinctually knew he had to be near her.
By the end of the night, they were practically glued to each other.
And the rest is pretty much history.
Tomorrow night, he’ll be back in New York, and we’ll celebrate his bachelor party. And two weeks after that, he’ll commit himself to Sadie for the rest of his life.
The thought makes me smile and frown at the same time.
I’m happy for him. Of course, I’m happy for him.
But if I’m really being honest with myself, I’m also jealous.
Not of him, but of what he has with Sadie. Someone he loves so much, so deeply, that he’s ready to say “I do” and commit to a forever with her.
At times, it’s all so hard to believe and has me thinking a lot about my future.
I’ve mellowed out over the past few years, throwing in the towel on one-night stands and bars and all-night parties, and I’m just now starting to understand why.
It’s not that I’ve grown tired of that kind of life. It’s that I’ve grown out of it.
I’ve matured. I’ve changed. And I’ve become more aware of my reality. I’m ready for more. I’m ready to settle down and build a life with someone.
Good God, now isn’t the time to have a fucking midlife crisis.
I shake off my thoughts and reinsert myself into the present.
And while Maybe is in the bathroom doing whatever it is girls do in bathrooms, I walk into her bedroom and sit down on the edge of the mattress. The room is so much Maybe, yet it still has remnants of her brother.
A few spots of the horrid forest-green paint he’d covered the walls with still speckle the ceiling.
The same cozy leather chair sits in the far corner of the room.
But mostly, it’s Maybe. Her clothes. Her shoes. Her pictures and books.
Even the smell of her soft, flowery perfume is in the air.
A scent I’ve managed to memorize and one that never hesitates to put a smile on my face. It’s soft and subtle yet unforgettable at the
same time.
The bathroom door whines as it opens, and soft footsteps echo off the hardwood floors as Maybe makes her way down the hall.
“I’m in the bedroom,” I call out toward her.
She doesn’t respond, but I know she hears me when her footsteps move closer, until they stop just outside the bedroom.
My jaw damn near hits the floor when I see her.
She stands there like a fucking goddess, her long hair hanging past her shoulders and brushing her arms, and her glorious skin bare of any clothes.
Maybe is naked, wanton, and standing there staring back at me. It is a vision I will never forget for the rest of my life.
Hesitantly, she steps toward me, and I don’t miss the way her soft, full breasts sway with each step. I don’t miss the way she bites at her bottom lip when she stops right in front of me, her knees just barely brushing my knees. And I don’t miss the way my heart speeds up inside my chest, damn near bouncing around inside my rib cage.
Fuck. She is hands down the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Slowly, I reach out and run my fingertips up the creamy, smooth skin of her thighs, and a little whimper escapes her throat.
I take her in with my eyes, gliding them up her body and memorizing every detail of her soft, lush curves. Drinking in every long and smooth line. Obsessing over every perfect little detail that is Maybe.
I can’t stop myself from pulling her into my arms until her thighs are spread across mine. And I sure as hell can’t stop myself from taking her mouth in a deep kiss, slipping my tongue past her lips and swallowing her moans.
Her hips move against me until my cock is hard and aching for her.
“Please,” she whispers. “Please, Milo.”
I don’t know what she’s asking or what she wants, but all I can do is pull her into my arms and lay her down on the bed.
Her hair fans out across the mattress, and my body hovers over her as I stare down at her. At this perfect fucking creature whose big brown eyes have the power to cut through all of my layers and grip on to my heart.
I know, with every cell inside my body, I have never looked at another woman the way I look at Maybe. I have never wanted or desired or adored another woman like I do her.
Before her, no one had the ability to affect me like she does.