Page 26 of After Felix
What I don’t hope for is to have Max jerk and shove my hand away like I’m a cockroach who’s landed on him. But that’s what happens.
I stop dead and stare at him, my stomach awash in acid.
Max glances down at me and his face twists. “No,” he says quickly as I turn back toward the office. He grabs my hand, and I stand rigidly, facing away from him. “No, wait, Felix. I’m sorry.”
I swallow hard, still not looking at him. “It’s fine,” I say quickly. “I think for some reason this day has gone downhill. I’ll see you whenever you’re around, okay?”
“No, please, Felix.”
The plea in his voice catches at me, and I turn reluctantly to face him.
He looks imploringly at me, a tortured expression on his face. “I’m sorry. That was really shitty of me.”
I make myself shrug. My face feels hot with embarrassment and hurt. “No big deal,” I say stiffly.
“Itisa big deal,” he bursts out. A group of girls glances at us as they pass and they giggle. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says in a lower voice.
“You can’t,” I say, glad that my voice is icing over.
“Really?” He looks hard at me, his eyes dark and turbulent.
“What is going on? What was that conversation about? It felt like you, Zeb, and Patrick were talking in code.” I breathe in to stop my flow of words.
He shrugs. “Patrick doesn’t like me.”
“Really? What a surprise.” I fold my arms over my chest. “Patrick doesn’t like anyone unless they’re his mother.”
We both shudder, and a small smile crosses his face. He looks relieved at my tone.
“Perish the thought,” he says solemnly. “That woman is one ducking stool short of a medieval pond.”
Unbidden, I laugh, and his expression lightens even more.
“Iamsorry, Felix,” he says again. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”
“Why did you?”
He looks torn. “You caught me by surprise going to hold my hand.” I flinch, and he carries on talking quickly. “You know I’m not into romantic crap like that. And I suppose I was also still a bit surprised that you and Zeb are connected.”
I lean against the whitewashed wall of the nearby building and take a deep breath. The air is filled with the scent of roses from a nearby basket of flowers. I ask, “And is that a problem?”
He hesitates in his response for a beat too long.
I straighten from the wall. “Well, maybe this is a bit of a wake-up call.”
“No,” he says quickly. “It’s not a problem. Just a bit of a surprise. Like two pieces of my world are colliding.”
I stare at him.A piece of his world? Something inside me softens. I want to hoard it and examine it later. And I decide it would be best to do that without him stumbling into more unchecked and possibly cruel words.
“Well, I think lunch is a bit of a washout,” I say. “Did you need me for anything? Because I’m going to bugger off back to the office.”
“And we’re okay?” he asks.
I take a few moments to consider my response. “I don’t think we’re anything,” I say finally. “So, I’m not sure why you’re concerned.” The words feel like ash in my mouth, wrong and dry. I draw in a deep and hopefully unobtrusive breath. “Sure you don’t want to finish it?” I make myself say lightly, even though it’s the very last thing I want.
His expression becomes stricken. “No,” he says quickly. “No, I don’t want that.” I exhale in relief, wanting to sag against the wall. “I’m sorry it came across that way,” he says. “I guess I was in a funny mood anyway, and Patrick always has a detrimental effect on me.” I grimace sympathetically, but he’s still talking. “I got an invite today,” he says, staring far too hard into the shop window next to him.
“Oh,” I say cautiously. “To make a speech?” He seems to get those sorts of offers three or four times a day.
