Page 67 of Dangerous Play

“It passed by very quick,” Max’s mom, Rachel, replied with a sweet smile. She was a beautiful woman and I could tell Max got more of his features from her. Especially the dark hair and eyes. And his height. His father was much taller, fit, and still handsome with his silver hair. I certainly wouldn’t have any complaint if Max aged like his father.

“We make the drive every year for semi-finals and finals. We love watching him play.”

Max looked at his mom with eyes full of love, while his dad grunted.

I don’t think his father liked me very much, he had a judgmental look on his face every time our eyes met. Or maybehe was just protective over his son who was destined for greatness and he didn’t want me to bring him down.

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” I smiled. “You must be very proud of him.”

“We are.” She nodded, her eyes glistening with emotion.

Max squeezed my knee under the table, and he flashed me an appreciative smile.

“Are you ready to impress the National Team scouts?” his father asked, all business.

“Of course,” Max nodded. Despite his stress, he played it very cool, but I learned to read him these past months. The way his knee bounced under the table, or the impatient tap of his fingers gave him away. To the outside world, he was cool and collected. But deep down, he was trembling with the fear that he might not be good enough.

I pushed down the desire to reach over and wrap him in my arms like I could protect him from all the negativity he was feeling.

“Coach McCarthy thinks I have a good shot,” Max went on with the speech I heard him give his teammates too when they asked about the National Team. “The process takes longer as they are scouting for the World Cup. It’s not just the America Cup. It’s a whole different level and they need to make the right decision.”

“And you think you are the right fit.”

Max nodded. His fingers wrapped around my hand, and he squeezed it tight, releasing some of his stress.

I kept my smile on, allowing him to lean on me as I assessed their family dynamics.

“Of course, you are.” His mom nodded, while his dad grunted.

“So, what is your plan?” his father continued with his line of questioning.

I resisted the urge to sigh, because he seemed like an asshole.

Max arched a brow. “What do you mean?”

“You guys are dating, so it must be serious if you decided to spend two holidays together. I wanted to know what was the plan when you move on to the World Cup.”

“Nothing.” Max shrugged. “It’s just for the summer. I’ll be back for senior year. It’s not a big deal, Dad, I’ve done it hundred times.”

“But your focus...”

“No,” Max cut him off, and the collected, kind person he always was disappeared. “My focus is on my career; having a girlfriend doesn’t change that.”

“I support him in everything he does,” I chimed in. Max squeezed my hand in response.

“Of course, you do.”

“What’s his problem?” I whispered to Max as his dad asked for more coffee.

He rolled his eyes. “We don’t get along well. He thinks I made a mistake in breaking up with Thalia. He thinks that she would have helped me secure a spot in the soccer world. He doesn’t get it...”

I nodded.

His dad didn’t get that Max wanted to do this on his own. He wanted the accomplishment to be a testament to his talent. He wanted to be appreciated for who he was, not for who he was dating or sleeping with.

Yet, here I was, making him be defined by dating me. Fake dating me. Or real dating? We didn’t exactly put a label on things yet; there hadn’t been a good moment to discuss where last night and this morning had left us. But I hoped we could move from fake to real.

I wasn’t even sure what I was hoping for. But I knew I wanted to keep seeing Max, be in his presence, and kiss him and hug him any time. For real this time.

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