Follow Me(50)

Get a grip, Audrey, I commanded myself.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR





AUDREY


When I returned to the balcony, once again fully in possession of my cool, I discovered Max had cleared the dishes and relocated the candles from the table around the space. He had turned up the music that had been playing in the background during dinner, and I recognized the current song as “This Must Be the Place” by the Talking Heads. I smiled to myself. The song was a good omen; it had always been lucky for me. In fact, I had been listening to that song when I got the call from Ayala offering me the job. I hoped it portended good things for the rest of the evening.

“Hey,” I said, joining Max at the edge of the balcony.

“Hey,” he responded, handing me a freshly poured glass of wine.

As I sipped the wine and considered how to reenergize the lively conversation we’d been having before my graceless attempt at a kiss had destroyed the mood, I felt my phone buzz in my purse. Grateful for the distraction, I pulled it out and checked the notifications.

It was only Nick: Watch out for bags of zip ties and collections of sharp instruments.

As I read his message, my phone vibrated again, this time with Nick sending me one of my own Instagram posts for the Hirshhorn, a close-up of the final, bloody Rosalind diorama. I shuddered.

“Is everything okay?”

I glanced up at Max, who was looking at me with concern. I put my phone facedown on the balcony ledge and drove Nick—and Rosalind—from my mind.

“Better than okay,” I said. “That dinner was delicious, and this view is incredible. You know, it might be my New York bias showing, but I never thought of DC as a particularly attractive city. You’ve gone and proved me wrong.”

“It’s not as flashy as New York, that’s for sure. It has more of a quiet beauty, the kind that sneaks up on you. Someday you’ll find you’re in love with it without knowing what happened.”

“Maybe you could show me some of the best parts,” I suggested.

“I would be honored,” he said seriously.

Then, holding my gaze, he cupped my face in his warm hands and lowered his mouth over mine. The tenderness of the kiss, its sweetness, surprised me. It was so different from kissing Nick—Nick was a technically proficient kisser who left me panting, but he didn’t touch me like this. I never felt as though Nick needed me specifically to create a knock-your-socks-off kiss; all he needed was a willing mouth. Here, though, with Max, I knew that I was a part of things, my lips, tongue, desire all integral components in this gentle but irresistible kiss.

I wrapped my arms around him, surprised to find that his body felt firm and well muscled beneath his ill-fitting, slightly rumpled shirt. As I leaned into him, my phone vibrated noisily on the ledge. Max stiffened and pulled away, looking almost accusingly at my device.

Nick, if that’s you, I’m going to put your head in a freezer, I thought viciously. I tried to ignore the phone, tried to guide Max’s soft mouth back to mine, but he wasn’t compliant.

“Do you need to get that?”

I shook my head, willing him to kiss me again. He watched me carefully and licked his lips, but that was all. We remained like that, he with his hands loosely on my hips, I with my arms draped around his torso, staring at each other, for one moment too long. I finally realized that we might be standing there like that all night, and, after my awkward, lunging kiss earlier in the evening, I was not going to be the one to make the first move. I dropped my arms and took a half step away.

“Well, I should probably get going,” I said, hoping he would ask me to stay. “But this has been lovely. Thank you so much for inviting me.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable. “Maybe I’ll see you again.”

I hope so, I thought.

? ? ?

I COULD STILL feel Max’s soft lips against mine, could still taste the cinnamon Altoid he must have popped when I went to the restroom, as I climbed into bed with my laptop. Almost as soon as I opened the lid, an iMessage appeared up on my screen: Make it home safe and sound?

I rolled my eyes. I didn’t know why my ex-boyfriend from seven years ago had suddenly decided he was my keeper, but it was no longer cute. I ignored Nick’s message and started browsing Netflix.

Seriously, Aud. I just want to know that you’re safe in your own bed.

Annoyed, I responded, I bet you’d like to know that.

Immediately, three dots appeared as Nick typed a reply.

Good night, Nicky, I wrote, and logged out of Messages.

Beside me, my phone buzzed. I glowered and reached for it, ready to cut off Nick’s mode of communication there, too, but saw instead it was a message from Max: I had a really nice time tonight.

A smile spread across my face. I snuggled down in bed and typed out, I did too.

Another text from Nick arrived: Don’t do anything stupid.

I rolled my eyes and turned off my phone, thinking, You’re the only stupid thing I do.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE





CAT


I slipped through the crowd loitering on the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding the tip of someone’s burning cigarette and brushing against someone else’s sweat-covered forearm. I wrinkled my nose in disgust and clutched my bag more tightly against myself, wondering whether I should just go home. I really didn’t want to be pushing myself into this packed bar at nearly midnight on a Friday night, still in my work clothes and carrying a stack of Westlaw printouts in my shoulder bag.