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“Such a fabulous show. I was told you coordinated it.”
Max turned to a woman on his right. “I did.”
Her smile spread wider, a glass of wine in one hand. “You’ve done an amazing job. I’m so glad I came.”
He inclined his head. “Thank you. I’m glad you came, too. I honestly hadn’t expected this kind of turnout.”
“Well, your promotional piece was genius. I’m sure that helped out a ton.”
“Promotional piece?” Max frowned. “You mean my ad in the school paper?”
“No, no. The big one in the local paper.”
He stared at her blankly. What the fuck was she talking about?
“In the Calendar Events section?” she prompted, eyeing him oddly. “Big front page article? Pretty pictures?”
“Um…” He glanced at her drink. Exactly how many of those had she had?
Finally, she laughed and shook her head. “Here. Hold this.” She handed Max her glass, then dug into her purse and pulled out a folded piece of newspaper. “This. I’ve been showing it to all of my friends.” She handed it over and took back her wine.
Max opened it up, expecting to find she’d been mistaken, but instead found that he’d been in the wrong. Because surer than shit, on the front page of the events section was a big, full-color spread announcing the show. Brows furrowed, he stared at it, not understanding. Those images were of his classroom, of his students while they worked. But no newspaper rep had ever come to take photos. He’d have remembered, no question. So this didn’t make sense. Only one person had ever shot pictures of his class. Sean, a couple months back, for some proj—
Max stilled in realization.
Sean had done this. It was Sean.
His heart dropped to his feet as he studied the ad. God, so much better than the one he had done. Hell, Sean’s piece straight-up blew his away. Emotion threatened to drown him as he took in each element. Each artistically captured image, and how it drew the eye’s attention. Each personalized caption clearly written by Sean himself. Small little reflections of his time in Max’s class, of the moments he’d spent in the presence of tonight’s contributors. Aka Max’s students, whose hard work many would see. Thanks in part to Sean’s own talent—and thoughtfulness.
Max tamped down a groan and dragged a hand down his face.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. It’s… amazing.”
“I especially love how the model who posed for your class composed it. So intimate and personal. Very nice touch. Any chance he’ll be making an appearance tonight?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Damn. That’s too bad. Talk about icing on the cake.”
Max forced a small smile as she shuffled off, then looked down at the ad still in his hand. “I can’t believe you did this, Sean. For a dickhead like me.” Bittersweetness filled him to the fucking brim.
“Max Kelley?”
Max sighed. Wasn’t this fucking show over yet? Folding the announcement, he slid it into his pocket, then turned and faked his hundredth smile. “Yes. That’s me.”
The young man smiled up at him with big, bright eyes. “Nice to meet you. My name’s Guy. I’m a freshman at Mason.” He thumb-pointed to their left. “I had a couple of questions about the papier–mâché?”
“Alright.” Max nodded. “Let’s go have a look.”
But as they headed across the showroom, his eyes locked on the front doors. He’d worked his ass off for tonight. He should be trying to enjoy himself. But all he wanted to do was go find Sean.
* * * * *
“Oh, my God, Vangi. These cupcakes look so fucking good!”
“They better. They cost a fortune.”
“Yikes. Hope he likes chocolate.”
“Who doesn’t like chocolate?”
“My sister.”
“Your sister’s a freak.”
“True. You bring candles?”
“Yup. You get the group card?”
“Yeah.”
“And the condoms?”
“Oh, yeah. Rainbow glow-in-the-darks. Forty count. The box is huge.”
“Bwahaha! That’s awesome, Mary! He’s gonna kills us! It’s gonna be great!”
Max watched from the shadows as the two friends scurried by, bee-lining straight for Vanilla Black. Arms loaded with shit, they paused at the door, peeked their heads in, then swapped grins and ducked inside. Looked like someone was about to be surprised.
Gee. How nice.
Max curled his lip and scowled.
Then got back to discretely stalking.
Or whatever it’s called when one stares through an establishment’s giant front window to secretly watch the one guy he’s fucking insane over. Peeping Tom, maybe. God, he’d fallen so far.
Max tugged his hoodie’s hood a little lower over his eyes. Not that anyone would even notice him. He’d become part of the dark. At least to the extent that he was wearing all black as he stood beneath some trees across from the coffee house. It was night, after all. And there wasn’t much moonlight.
Max peered into the cozy café’s low-lit interior where patrons of every sort sat sipping their brews. Sean didn’t typically work Fridays, but apparently he picked up a shift. Something Max was grateful for. Otherwise, he wouldn’t’ve known where to find him. Sean could’ve been anywhere, with anyone, out on the town. But to Max’s rare luck, he wasn’t. He was working. And thank fuck for that, ’cause truth be told, Max had really, really needed to see his face.
