Pieces of Perfect (23 page)

Twenty-Nine
 

             
I returned from lunch feeling a little better.  Tina was right.  If love was in the cards for me with one of these men, then let it find me.  I just had to make sure I was paying attention.  

              As eighth period ended and the dismissal bell rang, I thought back to what Max had said.  I knew I was going to have to find a balance between Tina and Max’s advice.  I wanted to open myself up, but not lose everything in the process.  
Being a girl really sucked sometimes.
 
 

             
I looked at the clock on my computer.  3:04.  Eleven more minutes and I could leave, maybe go for a run to help clear my head.  I scrolled through my iPhone to pick out a playlist for my workout.  I needed to make sure I was properly motivated.  
 

             
“Hi, doll.”  
 

I had been wondering if he would stop by today.
 Last night had been intense for both of us and I wasn’t sure whether we needed space, a discussion, or to pretend it hadn’t happened.  Clearly, the correct answer was not space.
 

“Hi,” I replied, not wanting to offer too much.
 

“So, are we good?” he got right to the point, motioning to the distance between us with his hand.

“Yup.”

“Okay, good,” he breathed a heavy sigh of relief.  “What are you doing Thursday?”

Guess we were pretending it hadn’t happened.  
“Umm, nothing that I know of.  Why?”  My head was facing him, but my body was still turned toward my desk.  I didn’t want to open my body up to him.  At least not right now.
 

“Remember when
I said we should go to a Flyers game?  We should do that Thursday.”
 

“Oh, we should, should we?
 And why should we do that?”  I couldn’t resist teasing him.

“Because we’re friends and friends hang out.”

I stared at him, knowing that this couldn’t be the entire explanation.
 

“Although it's not actually a game. It's more of a fundraiser that I need a date to,” he spat out guiltily.
 

This man had no couth.  
“Oh, no you don’t, Max.  Don’t even ask.  I’m not reliving Atlantic City.  Forget about it.”
 

“I can’t forget about it.
 Listen, my agent called and he said that he got a lot of positive feedback about how well I handled myself at the autograph signing.  He also said that numerous people, important people, made comments about how great it was to see that I had fallen for such a nice, down to earth girl.  I can’t look like I booted her to the curb two weeks later.”  His voice was pleading, but that isn’t want I focused on.

“Why would they think
you
booted
me
?  Why wouldn’t they think that
I
dumped
you
?”  I sounded pouty and I knew it.  But it was insulting that people would assume that this asshat had dumped me.  I could dump people.  Did I look desperate or something?  
 

“I don’t know, doll.
 I think the point I’m trying to make is that we can avoid the dumping all together if you agree to go with me.  How about it?”

I eyed him suspiciously.  Was this just a way to get me out with him again?  Or did he really want my help?  It was a 50/50 split.
 

“We don’t even have to stay over anywhere this time,” he continued.
 “We’ll have a blast and I’ll totally behave.  The only negative I can see is that you may be a little tired at work the next day.  Otherwise, it’ll be great.”

Maybe that was the only negative he could see, but I saw plenty of others.  The one foremost on my brain was how Adam would react to this.  He was going to completely lose his shit.  If I were going to go, I definitely couldn’t tell Adam.  I would just have to hope that he didn’t find out.
 

But should I go? 
I wasn’t so sure.  I had vowed to give Max a chance, and here was my opportunity. 

I sighed deeply before putting my elbows on my desk and plopping my head down onto my hands.  I didn’t even try to disguise the irritation that filled my voice.  “What should I wear?”

*              *              *

Max was picking me up at 5:30, which meant that I had very little time to get home, get showered, and get dressed.  Thankfully, I had chosen my outfit the night before.  I had decided on a deep red, strapless cocktail dress that stopped at my knee.  The material was satin and it managed to be elegant and simple at the same time.  Paired with some black heels and a diamond pendant necklace my parents gave me for my college graduation, I had to admit, I looked pretty damn good.

I looked out of my window about a hundred times between 5:15 and the time Max arrived.  He was picking me up in a limo because he said it was important to arrive at these types of things in style.  But I was paranoid.  I hadn’t told Adam I was going with Max.  What if Adam decided to drop by?  What if he was in the area and drove past?  As unlikely as these things were, I still felt like I was inevitably going to get caught.  
 

The limo pulled up out front at 5:25.
 I grabbed my clutch and booked it out of my apartment and down the stairs.  Just as Max was getting out of the car, I was hustling toward him down the sidewalk.  
 

“Ready?” I asked.

“Uh, ye-s.” He dragged the word out, clearly trying to figure out why the hell I was practically sprinting toward him.
 
 

“Okay, great.
 Let’s go.”  I pushed past him and got into the limo.

“Lily . . . ?” he asked

“Yeah?” I poked my head out of the door to look at him.

He ran his hand through his hair.  “Nothing.”  He got into the car, the driver closing the door behind him.  We sat beside each other this time, each of us next to a door.  
 

I glanced over at him.
 He was in a black tux, with his hair gelled so that it framed his face perfectly.  
God he was gorgeous.  
In an attempt to shake the thoughts of sitting on his face from my mind, I started talking.  “Well, you sure clean up well.”  I smiled warmly at him in an effort to let him know that I wanted us to have a good time tonight.  No petty bickering, no angry words, and no complicated sex.  I just wanted to enjoy his company and see if I could get any clarity on our relationship.

“Thanks, doll.  You don’t look too shabby yourself,” he replied with a sly grin.

He really knew how to flatter a girl. 
 

*
              *              *
 

The rest of the ride passed in easy conversation.
 We were back to how we had been two months ago, before his house and the fiasco in Atlantic City.  It felt good.  It felt right.

We pulled up in front of the Wells Fargo Center behind a line of other limos and expensive cars.  As we waited to get closer to the entrance, I realized that I didn't even know what this fundraiser was for.  “What charity are the Flyers supporting with this fundraiser?”
 

“March of Dimes,” Max replied.
 

I nodded my head and stared out of the window.
 Finally, the door on Max’s side was yanked open and he helped me out of the car.  My mind flashed back to when I had been here with Adam for the Sixers game.  Guilt swept through me.  I shouldn’t be here.  But, I had known that when I said yes.  Why did I keep doing all the wrong things?  Max slid his hand to the small of my back to escort me into the arena, which sent shivers down my spine.  
Oh yeah.  That’s why.

His firm hand fit perfectly into the crook just above my ass.  I found myself pushing back a bit, trying to feel more of his hand through the material of my dress.  I did love this man’s hands on my body.  The way he explored me, caressed me, rubbed me.  It was intoxicating.  
 

Max led me onto the main concourse and through a curtained opening to the arena seats.
 When I passed the curtains, I couldn’t help but gasp.  The floor where the basketball and hockey games were held had been completely transformed into a gala befitting the wealthy who were in attendance.  The floor was covered with a thin navy blue carpet, more likely to protect the floor beneath than for the comfort of the guests.  There were tables with beautiful orchid arrangements atop white table cloths and surrounded by chairs covered with white linen and finished off with black bows.  A band played as service staff trolled the crowd with hors d'oeuvres.  It was beautiful.

Max reached for my hand and cupped it gently in his.  “You good?” he asked.
 

“Yeah, I’m good,” I replied, beaming.
 

He walked slowly down the stairs to the court so that I could keep up with him in my heels.  Once down, we were immediately met with a photographer who had clearly been hired to take pictures of all of the guests.  Max quickly pulled me to him before I could protest, holding me much closer than I would have liked considering it was going to be documented on film.  
 

Once the photographer looked up to signal that he had gotten the shot, Max and I turned and were immediately met with people.
 Max seemed to know most of them and talked in warm, casual conversation.  I was impressed.  Max was a natural charmer and was able to instantly win over those he spoke with.  However, this left me wondering how such a charismatic person could be thought of as a total dick by so many people.  Though, I guess I knew that answer.  I had seen destructive Max on more than one occasion.  What really didn’t make sense was why I was more sexually attracted to that Max than
the one standing before me now.  I guess there was just always something appealing about a bad boy.
 

Max finally managed to escape the throng that surrounded him and he led me toward an open space.
 He smiled at me, “Having fun?”

“It’s definitely interesting.  I’ve never been to something like this before.”

A waitress approached us with a tray full of champagne.  “Can I offer you something to drink?”
 

“Yes, thank you,” Max said as he lifted two champagne flutes off of her tray and handed one to me.

“Thank you,” I repeated as I took a sip.
 I wasn’t a big fan of champagne, but I also didn’t want to stand out and ask for something else.  

“Ready to mingle?” Max asked.
 

“This is your show.
 I’m just along for the ride.”  I immediately regretted my word choice. My horny brain instantly flashed to images of the times I had ridden Max.  I felt a pulsing low in my body, a yearning building from the memories alone.  The slight smirk on his face told me that he was reliving the same experiences.  “Ready when you are.”  
Jesus Christ, Lily, just stop talking.  

“Okay, let’s start in a corner and work our way around.”  Max said this seriously, but he was still smirking and there was a decided crinkling of his eyes.  I hated that filthy minds so often thought alike.
 

The fundraiser ended up being more fun than I had initially anticipated.
 Max stayed by my side, pulling me into conversation to ensure that I didn’t get bored.  The only real issue I ran into was that I really hated having to hold onto a glass.  With having to secure my clutch with one hand, I despised not having my other hand free.  Therefore, I quickly downed my champagne.  But those disciples of evil, also known as the serving staff, kept coming over and offering me more.  And every time, just as I lifted my hand to decline, someone would say, “Yes, thank you,” and hand me another flute.  
I need to slow the hell down.  

As we were engaged in conversation with a former teammate of Max’s, the MC asked for our attention.  
 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to first, say thank you to all of you for attending this year’s Flyers Fundraiser for the March of Dimes.”
 

A round of applause broke out around us as I leaned slightly into Max, trying to get my balance.  
Damn champagne.  
 

“I would also like to take this opportunity to recognize some of our generous contributo
rs,” the MC continued.  Impeccably dressed in a black tuxedo, he was an older man; maybe about sixty.  He donned a pair of black rimmed reading glasses and began rattling off the names of people who had donated exorbitant amounts of money to the March of Dimes.