Page 54 of Surviving the Merge
“It’s harvest day,” Max interjected. “It’s not much—we don’t have the acreage needed toreallymake a difference—but we grow what we can and supplement what we can’t. Come on, I want you to meet Jack. He’s in the conservatory.”
Stepping into the greenhouse, we encountered a cute little girl with pigtails and braces. She couldn’t have been older than eight.
“Hi, Mr. Max!” She leaped into his arms, and I hid a smirk at his exaggerated stumble and grunt.
“Hi, Debbie, are you helping Mr. Jack today?” Max asked.
Back on her feet, she smoothed down the front of her pink dress and informed Max, “Mr. Jack left for the night.”
The weather was heating up, so they were in the process of transitioning the warm-weather plants from the greenhouse to the garden. Mr. Jack left her in charge of finishing up.
Clueing into my presence, Debbie pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and asked Max, “Who’s your friend?”
“That’s Justin. I’m showing him around. Justin, meet our resident green thumb, Little-Debbie.”
Before I could extend a “Nice to meet you,” Debbie said, “You’re pretty. Prettier than Mr. Max, and Mr. Max is pretty.Everyonethinks so. Your eyes are big. I’ve never seen a boy with a hair bun before. How long is your hair? And why is it so white? Can I see—”
“All right, Debbie, don’t scare him off so soon, okay?” Max said gently while pulling on one of her braids.
“Fine,” she huffed, folding her arms across her chest. Something behind us caught her attention, and she ran off, shouting, “You can’t mix the greens with the browns, Solomon!”
“Max…” I placed a hand on his forearm to stop him from leaving. “This is extraordinary. How can I be a part of it?”
A sensation of rightness stirred in my core. Of knowing without a doubt what my path should be. For the first time, I experienced a true sense of purpose. The knowledge was liberating.
“Lucky for you, I’ve saved the best for last. Follow me.”
Walking up the winding, wooden staircase in the middle of the facility, I followed Max to the end of the second-floor hall. We were in front of a doorway, and he gestured for me to go in ahead of him. I stepped in and examined the empty space, and now his calculated gaze back at The Best Burgers in Town made sense.
“We could use an instructor. Many of the kids have expressed their desire to dance. You tell me what you’ll need in here, and I’ll build it or purchase it.”
My excitement mounted as I started to envision what this would mean to these kids. Max leaned against the doorframe: arms folded, one leg crossed in front of the other. Patiently allowing me to sort through my thoughts.
“Do they have any experience?” I asked, running my hand along the wall.
“Some will join for fun. To try something new. Most will have experience, but they probably stopped training because their parents could no longer afford it. Or they were bullied into quitting.” He came further into the room. “Seeing someone like you dancing will make all the difference in the world to them.”
The space was simple, four white walls—one with a mirror along it. “We’ll need a barre bar setup along that wall. Two at least, at different heights to accommodate the younger kids. A matted area for stretching and a sound system.” I scuffed the cement floor with the toe of my shoe. “And vinyl flooring.”
“Consider it done.” He nodded decisively. Stepping into my personal space, he said, “I can’t wait to see what this becomes.” His statement was full of ambiguity. The look of hope and expectation in his eyes filled me with guilt and a longing for someone else. Which only amplified the guilt. I turned and walked away.
15
Max waited with me on my front porch while I dug around in my pockets for the house keys. The cries of the cicadas and his truck engine as it ran idle at the curb filled the silence. Pluto stuck his head out the window and barked. Letting Max know it had been a long day for him too.
“I have most of what you need already, so it won’t take me long to get you up and running,” he said.
Striking gold when my hand grazed the keys, I raised my head. “Ok—” My words cut off at the feel of his lips meeting mine. My body went rigid from his unexpected boldness, and I didn’t respond—at first. But then I softened and gave in to the kiss. There was something I needed to know. That I needed to prove.Don’t I owe it to myself to see if there could be someone else for me?Or was that only an excuse to justify what I was doing? To myself, to Max, and to...them.
Max’s warm palm came to rest on my nape. He squeezed while deepening the kiss. His technique soft and teasing, with nips here and there, then full-on tongue, then lips only. Meant to leave me desperate for more. He remained purposely just out of reach. The kiss conveyed confidence, and was thorough.
But it didn’t set my soul on fire the way Damon’s masterful kisses did. Max’s kiss lacked a sharp edge of danger. No promise that in seconds I’d be taken to the brink of destruction.
His kiss didn’t make me drunk-on-love the way Blake’s kisses did. It didn’t inspire the feeling of falling and trusting that I’d be caught before I hit the ground. With Blake, I felt like the most treasured, priceless possession in the world. I couldfeelwhat Blake was willing to sacrifice when he touched me.Everything.
Max was a nice guy. The kind of guy I should have, but one I would never want.
I ended the kiss. It left neither of us breathless. We wordlessly understood that we could only ever be friends.
