Page 54 of Cream and Punishment
I’d officially reached a whole new level of desperation.
His reply came a few minutes later.
Max: I actually already had something planned. How about you come with me?
I squirmed, the familiar sinking feeling creeping up all around me. Climbing my legs and squeezing against my lungs. Threatening to smother me. It wasn’t even abadrejection. He’d gone out of his way to soften the blow by inviting me along to be polite.
I repeated some of the mantras I’d found on a website about managing rejection sensitivity. “This hurts, and that’s okay. I’m safe.”
Even if it shouldn’t logically hurt at all. But, hey, I was trying.
Me: Oh, no, I don’t want to intrude on your plans. Thanks for the invite, though!
My dinner plans were quickly looking like a tub of Ben and Jerry’s, but that was one of the perks of being single. No one to judge you when you pound a whole pint of rocky road for dinner before calling it a night at seven-thirty.
My phone buzzed a minute later.
Max: You wouldn’t be intruding at all! I could use the company.
He’d included a winking emoji at the end. And, I’ll admit it, my heart fluttered like a pathetic, one-winged moth. It completely replaced the sinking, crushing weight that had slowly receded after I’d repeated my mantra.
I smiled the whole time I typed my response, complete with two winking faces.
Me: Well, as long as it’s a chance to be a Good Samaritan, how could I refuse?
He sent a laughing emoji.
Max: Exactly! I’ll pick you up in half an hour?
Me: I can’t wait!
This, followed by a heart-eyes face, offset with two star-eyes emojis so my crush on him wouldn’t be as glaringly obvious. See? Balance.
Me: Wait, what’s the dress code for wherever we’re going? And is it real food or tiny hors d’oeuvres they say are a full meal?
He sent back a few laughing emojis. The typing bubble popped up, disappeared, and then popped up again for a while before his reply came. By then, I was already tearing through my drawers for something acceptable.
Max: I assure you, I take food very seriously. Full portions or bust.
He’d included a smiling devil emoji at the end.
Max: Something like what you wore last time would be perfect.
I snorted, even as color blossomed up my neck.
Me: Which time, exactly? It’s disturbing how many times you’ve seen me in my pajamas.
Note to self: invest in cute pajamas. Preferably ones that don’t have holes in the armpit.
Max: Is that what those were?
Me: Is that judgment I’m sensing, Max?
I held a few shirts up to myself in the mirror, ultimately deciding on the red V-neck that Lex said looked “sexy casual,” which I would’ve doubted could coexist if I hadn’t seen Max look positively sinful in a T-shirt. After pairing my shirt with my favorite pair of jeans, I pinned my hair away from my face and nodded at my reflection in satisfaction.
My curls were unruly as always, but their dark chocolate color went great with the red of the shirt. The neckline dipped low enough to hint at my femininity without being scandalous, and with a smidge of makeup, my eyes would pop. Honestly, this was as good as it was going to get.
My phone buzzed as I applied my mascara.
