The Boyfriend Sessions (15 page)

An enveloping sense of numbness overtook me as I let the hot sting of the shower wash over me. It was at least fifteen or twenty minutes before I summoned the effort to turn off the water. My legs felt heavy when I forced them to step from the shower and reach for my towel.

I was only vaguely aware of the quiet outside my room. My friends had either relocated to the balcony after my cheery revelation or else I’d killed the party and they’d all gone home.

I honestly didn’t have the strength to care. Let them worry. Let them think I was wrong. They’d put it down to my being disillusioned and they were probably right, but it still didn’t change facts.

How had I not seen it before?

All these years I was convinced I was embarking on the next great love affair when, in reality, I’d locked my heart and thrown away the key long ago. Sure, I’d gone from one relationship to another, but it wasn’t because I was searching, the way Cate was searching, for that one special person. It was because I didn’t care.

That and I still kind of liked men. Plus I was sociable and enjoyed the company of others. A wry grin touched my lips. What a dilemma.

I dried myself off, then located a pile of clothes next to my bed and nudged them with one foot. They looked predominantly clean, which would have to do for now. Bending over, I selected a singlet top and a pair of boxer shorts and pulled them on. The nights had started to lose their coolness and the faint scent of humidity hung in the air this evening, a hint of the summer to come. I sat on the edge of my unmade bed and toweled my wet curls absently.

Where to from here? Was I really done?

I paused for a moment and imagined my life stretching out before me in a state of single empowerment. Travel, freelance work, the envy of all my friends who would later be tied down with snotty-nosed kids while I traversed the globe freely with money to spend on what I chose. I would become one of those Facebook friends everyone envied and possibly secretly hated.

And here’s a picture of me on the afternoon I spent cruising the canals of Venice in a gondola.

Or here I am in New York City walking through Central Park after a leisurely afternoon shopping on Fifth Avenue.

Now here I am at a delicious little patisserie in the Latin Quarter of Paris.

Yep. I would inspire jealously. They might even quietly unfriend me. Probably not the result I was aiming for.

With a deep sigh, I made the effort to hang my wet towel back in the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. My light blue eyes looked tired and I could see the beginnings of a tan on my fair skin, the result of my twice weekly boot camp sessions. It made the small sprinkle of freckles on my nose stand out. I was yet to find any real wrinkles on my face, not for the occasional want of trying when I descended into one of those moods that regularly coincided with PMS. Blinking at myself, I was aware that most of my life still lay ahead of me.

It was irony at its best. I was young enough to have years ahead of me to stretch uncharted with possibility, but old enough to be scared of those possibilities.

For all my jibes about snotty-nosed kids, I did actually quite like them. I’d always seemed able to get down on their level and enjoy being with them. I’d always viewed them as a possibility. I sighed. Kids would be kind of difficult without a man.

Nothing was impossible of course—in this day and age there were ways around it, for sure—but I could hardly see myself arriving at the fertility clinic and signing up as a single parent. They’d probably refuse me on the basis of being a poor role model for my total inability to keep a clean and organized household.

Frustrated, I rested my head in my hands. Why did I even agree to these painful ex-boyfriend counseling sessions? At least prior to this I was having fun, even if I was oblivious. There was a lot to be said for ignorance.

Maybe Cate was right, maybe I shouldn’t give up.

If only it were that simple.

Finding real love was one thing, releasing my heart from its current lockdown was something else entirely.

Running a brush absently through my tangle of curls, I realized it would have to be a conscious choice. I could continue operating in lock down mode for as long as I saw fit. Or I could try something different. I could try opening my heart. There was only one problem with that option.

It completely and utterly terrified me.

*

Much later, I emerged from my bedroom with an empty wine glass in hand and a sour expression on my face.

I’d spent the last couple of hours directing my frustrations into a new sketch, but it wasn’t working. I’d envisaged an image of a woman, fiery brown eyes and long flowing golden hair, standing overlooking a deep ravine as she contemplated the abyss below. I’d wanted her to appear confident and strong, but instead she’d come out bitter, and the determination on her face had morphed into a scowl, a scowl which I was doing my best not to recreate.

It was ten minutes after eleven but I was too wired to get to sleep and decided a herbal tea was in order. I rounded the corridor to the kitchen and stopped suddenly while I stared at the back of a lone figure bent over a laptop at our dining table.

At the sound of my approach, Max languidly stretched out a pair of toned, muscled arms and slowly angled his neck to iron out the tension. He turned toward me, but then stopped mid-stretch.

“I thought you were Cate.”

“I thought you’d gone home.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment and it was only then I became aware of my clothing, or lack thereof. I protectively folded my arms across my chest to disguise the fact I wasn’t wearing a bra.

He averted his eyes quickly and for the first time I realized something was different about him. “You’re wearing glasses.” We were into stating the obvious at this late hour apparently.

His brown eyes glanced back up at me from behind the thin silver wire frames that rested on the strong arch of his nose. “My eyes get tired when I wear contact lenses all the time.”

“They suit you.” It was the honest truth. The contrast of the delicate frames on his angular face was more than a little distracting.

He kind of shrugged and grimaced at the same time, then attempted to change the subject. “Sorry if I startled you, I’m just finishing updating Cate’s laptop. She’s having problems with it.”

“Careful. Now you’re back in town, we’ll have you on speed dial for tech support.” Cate and I were both completely useless when it came to technology.

Another shrug. “I’m used to it.”

“Ah, so is that how you meet hot girls? Reel them in on the basis of tech support?”

For a second he looked shocked, but quickly recovered. “Are you implying you’re hot?”

My pulse spiked at the turn in the conversation and I grinned. “Are you implying it works?”

His soft laughter filled the room and I wondered why I found the sound so soothing. It was like a balm to my fractured emotional state. Then my consciousness clued into the fact that I was potentially flirting with an available male and urged me to reconsider on the basis of the night’s earlier revelations. “I’m just grabbing a cup of tea. Can I get you anything?”

“Can’t sleep?”

It wasn’t the answer I was expecting. His directness took some getting used to. “No.”

“Not surprising.”

After a beat, I spoke. “I’m right though, aren’t I? I’m just a serial Mr Wrong magnet.” I wasn’t sure why I was talking to him about this.

He studied me for a long moment and I felt my skin flush. “If that’s how you put yourself out there, that’s what you’ll get.”

I felt the fingers of denial creeping up my spine. “And what would that be?”

“A good time girl.” His brown eyes bored into mine.

I swallowed, suddenly feeling ashamed. “It’s not like it was a conscious decision. And I don’t go around sleeping with just anyone, they’ve all been relationships.”

“Even Handy Hamish?”

I was about to jump down his throat until I recognized a faint glimmer in his eyes. “You’re just jealous.”

The glimmer disappeared and he looked away. “You’re the sort of girl to inspire that in a guy.”

I blinked and felt as though all the breath had left me. What was he saying? What had I ever done to make him feel jealous? I didn’t understand.

“A cup of tea would be great.”

Honestly, I couldn’t keep up. The serious expression was gone and he looked at me again, his eyes unreadable. I studied him but then decided I didn’t have the strength to challenge him at this late hour. “Fine. Herbal or regular?”

“Regular. White with one.”

I entered the kitchen and did my best not to shake my head. What a strange conversation. But then it was a strange situation overall. It wasn’t normal to reveal all the dirty little details of your love life to those close to you.

I waited for the kettle to boil and drummed my restless fingers on the bench. Those glasses were seriously hot. He was seriously hot. And once again, I was seriously deranged.

Not three hours earlier I was swearing off relationships altogether. I was done, remember?

Maddy’s brother, Maddy’s brother,
my subconscious reminded me helpfully as I poured the steaming water into the cups. We couldn’t forget that either.

With a sigh, I carried the tea out to the dining table but not before grabbing a jacket I’d left on the breakfast bar earlier that day. Dignity intact, I placed both the cups on the table and slipped into the chair beside him.

“Isn’t it kind of late to be working on Cate’s laptop?” He still had to get up for work tomorrow and so did I.

“She needs it for a presentation.”

That was very gallant of him. “I should probably get you to look at mine at some stage too.”

“I hope you back up all of your design files.”

I winced and he didn’t miss a beat.

“I’ll get you a hard drive.”

“Thanks.”

We sat there in silence for a while, Max focusing on the laptop screen while I focused on my tea. I wasn’t entirely sure why I was still sitting there, except for feeling as though I wanted the company.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” he asked eventually.

“About being done?”

“Mmm.” He was still intent on what looked to be the file manager on Cate’s computer.

“Well, I’m done with lying to myself.”

He still didn’t look up from his computer. “That’s a start. But what next?”

“Good question,” I admitted. “I don’t know. I meant what I said about not being convinced about searching for Mr Right.”

“Who says you have to search?”

I really wished I could see his eyes, all I had to go on was his profile which was actually quite beautiful. “Search might be the wrong word. I’m just not sure I want to be open to it, then.”

“Why?”

I pushed away an errant curl roughly, frustrated at his line of questioning. “Because.”

He finally looked up again and raised an eyebrow at me. “Because?”

“Because the chances of it being a life-long thing aren’t exactly great.”

“You really have to stop letting your parents
’ 
example color your view of the world.”

“Who says I’m doing that?” Now I was feeling more than a little defensive.

“That’s my take on it. You’ve never gotten past it, so you use it as an excuse.”

“You’re wrong. That’s got almost nothing to do with it.” Really, I mean, where did he get off analyzing me like that? Arm him with a bit of information about my love life and look where it ended up.

“And you’re in denial.”

“I’m sorry?” Denial be damned, now I was just pissed.

“You’re in denial. So you’ve had a few failed relationships, hasn’t everyone?”

“Yes, but—”

“But what? Now you set yourself up for failure because you’re too scared to admit you want to try for something more long term and you go out with the wrong guys. You don’t even give yourself a chance.”

I stood up abruptly, almost tipping my chair backward. “Thank you for your opinion, Max, but believe me when I say I’m done, alright?” If I wasn’t entirely convinced until right that second, his certainty created a perverse response in me now.

Before I could sweep away in a storm of righteousness, he stood too, all six foot and more towering over me. I straightened uselessly to my full height, still lucky to come up to his shoulders.

I jolted as he placed his hands on either side of my arms. He watched me carefully through narrowed eyes. “So you’re done, are you?”

“I’m done.” I sounded less convinced.

Then his mouth was on mine and all rational thought disappeared entirely.

Good God, his lips were so soft but so sure at the same time, and I felt my body melting into his with hardly any resistance at all.

Sensing my complete and utter lack of restraint, he pulled me to him roughly and my heart pounded as I felt the hard outline of his chest pressing into mine. His hands found my face and traced a burning trail down my cheekbone, before disappearing into my hair.

And that mouth, it tormented me. Soft then hard as he deepened the kiss, taking just a little bit more and more as he eased away my frustration and transformed it into sheer longing and desire.

I wanted him. God, how I wanted him. Had felt that way since that first morning weeks ago when I’d opened the door to his impressive frame. It wasn’t fair that this would happen now, when I wasn’t prepared or even emotionally willing, but I felt those thoughts ebb quickly away with the heat of his hand caressing my neck.

Involuntarily I released a small moan and the result was for Max to crush his mouth to mine again.

At the sound of Cate’s door clicking open up the hallway, I leaped back and stared at him open-mouthed, deer in the headlights style.

His dark eyes glowered at me with a mixture of desire and frustration. “You’re not done, Christa. Not by a long shot.”

My breath came in hard, fast gasps and I couldn’t speak. I raised a hand to my swollen lips, then fled up the hallway past a confused and tired-looking Cate.

In the safety of my room I collapsed against the back of my door and waited for my heart rate to return to normal. I could hear the muffled sounds of conversation from the dining room, but did my best to ignore Max’s deep voice.