Page 99 of Playing for Keeps

Simon ordered a gin and tonic while Will grabbed my sleeve with sudden sincerity. “I like you.”

“I like you too, Will. Now don’t move. You’ll topple over.”

Max squeezed my hand and made his way towards the bar, cutting through the crowd with a kind of casual confidence. I watched him go and I felt that annoying ache in my chest. I had missed him. I always did, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

“Emma,” Will whispered, leaning in as if he were about to tell me state secrets. “Do you know who else likes you?”

“No, who?”

He said in a serious tone, “Max.”

“Good,” I said lightly, because my ribcage was already too tight. “I like him too.”

“No, no.” He shook his head, whispering with enormous effort. “He loves you. He’s going to miss you like crazy.”

The knot I had been ignoring tightened. The book was finished. The term was over. I had built my life around leaving: careful attachments, the quiet pride of never needing to stay. Saying it out loud, or anything close to it, to the man who had started to feel like home felt impossible. I smiled at Will and tried not to think about it.

Max reappeared like some sort of professional waiter, carrying four drinks without spilling a drop. He gave me my water with that little private smile he gives me when we’re in a room full of people. Then he passed Simon his drink and offered Will the other glass of water. Simon excused himself when he spotted someone he knew at the bar.

Will stared at it like Max had handed him a banana. “This is… clear,” he said, offended. “Why is it clear?”

“I’m looking out for you, buddy. So you don’t pass out in an hour and miss your own party. You can resume festivities after you finish that.”

“Buddy!” Will protested.

Max clinked his glass against Will’s. “Hydrate, William!”

Will sighed dramatically, took a long sip, then smacked his lips. “Ah. Delicious. Tastes like pure hydration.” He straightened up like the drink had fixed all his problems. “All right! Dance! Emma, care to do the honours?”

“I will,” I said, because he looked so hopeful that I couldn’t bear to turn him down. I glanced at Max. “Join us?”

“Nope.” He smiled. “I’ll be watching from a safe distance.”

Before I could step away, he cupped my face in one warm hand and kissed me. I meant to keep it short – the bar, our friends, and Will hovering – but the second his lips touched mine, everything else faded away. I grabbed his wrist and held him there. He leaned in a little more, deepening it. I knew the taste of him, the way he always paused for a breath, as if he couldn’t help but be careful with me, even when he didn’t want to be.

“EMMA!” Will yelled from two feet away. “IF YOU’RE DONE SNOGGING…” He said it with the excitement of a man who had just discovered British slang: “THERE’S A SONG HAPPENING.”

Max chuckled against my mouth and pulled back, his thumb brushing my cheekbone, as if he was trying to hide the frustration behind his smile. “Go,” he said in a softer voice. “I’ll be right here.”

I squeezed his hand once and let Will pull me onto the dance floor. There were mostly couples and a few excited groups. Will took my hands and spun me around so fast that I almost hit a man behind us. I laughed, steadied myself, and we settled into a bouncier version of swaying.

“This is a great birthday,” he declared. “You should come to all my birthdays.”

“That’s a dangerous promise,” I said, trying not to look over Will’s shoulder.

We danced to two songs, with Will insisting on a silly twirl every chorus. Then he announced he was starving and went to hunt down nachos. I slipped back to the edge of the room, where Max was waiting. He reached for me automatically, his hand warm on my back.

We moved to a quieter corner where we could hear ourselves over the noise. Max studied me for a second, his eyes searching, then said, “Your book.”

There it was again. The question beneath it, the one I wasn’t ready for. My throat was tight when I said, “Basically finished.”

“And after that?”

I looked down into my glass, watching the bubbles rise and pop. My mouth went dry. “I’m still figuring it out.”

The words tasted like an excuse. I wasn’t unsure about him; I was scared that choosing him would mean losing a part of myself I’d worked so hard to build. The silence stretched between us. Max didn’t push. His jaw tightened, and he nodded once, the look in his eyes telling me he already knew.

I put the glass down, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I think I’m going to call it a night.”