Page 86 of Student Seduction
My heart didn’t do this for Max.
I cared a great deal for Max. Max made me laugh. He was sweet and quirky and fun. Like hanging out with Drew on lazy Sunday afternoons, but we got to sleep together.
Which was nice.
So very nice.
Max was attentive and gentle and sweet in bed.
Not one for dirty talk, he mostly told me over and over how beautiful I was. Which made mefeelbeautiful. He had skilled hands and we’d found an easy rhythm that worked for both of us.
But it had never been like the roller coaster ride Aiden took me on with his dirty mouth and his filthy mind.
God, what was I doing?
I couldn’t compare Max to Aiden like this. It wasn’t fair. I was practically a kid with zero experience back then. Of course it had seemed more intense.
That wasn’t a reflection of anything lacking with Max.
Was it?
I stood abruptly, needing to get away from myself, from my thoughts. I needed to get to Max so I could get my head back in a safe space.
I practically ran to the cafe and when I arrived, he was there. Sitting in the booth we always sat in. Drinking his hot tea across from the coffee he’d ordered me.
Like every Tuesday evening.
This was good.
He was good.
Our life together was good.
I could breathe normally again.
It wasn’t wild out of control love. It was comfortable, respectful, and easy-going. Something my mother had written in her final letter to me tried to wedge its way into my mind as I walked to our table, but I shoved it out with a smile.
“Hi, handsome,” I greeted him.
Max stood, his tall, lean, dark-skinned frame towering over me. “Hello, gorgeous.”
He kissed me chastely and I ignored my feelings of infidelity. It was an E-mail for goodness sakes. Aiden didn’t even have my current phone number.
After we’d exchanged the usual pleasantries about our days, I took a deep breath.
“Can I ask you something?”
I was going to ask him about Beth. About what he would do if she showed up in Chicago and wanted him back. About how his feelings for me compared to his feelings for her.
But then it occurred to me that this would likely start an argument about an irrelevant hypothetical scenario for no reason.
“Sure, babe. Ask away.”
He slid the menus to the side because we didn’t need them. We always ordered the same thing.
I could tell him. About the E-mail. Probably even about the thing my heart and stomach did when I read it. I could tell him I’d kept me response short and sweet, telling Aiden I was sorry to hear about his injury but that I knew he’d make a wonderful coach.
I could probably even tell him that I’d signed it Love always, Emersyn—though that part might not go over so well.
Or we could enjoy our Tuesday night together without arguing over ghosts from our pasts.
So I tucked Aiden’s E-mail into the crevice where the missing portion of my heart was and smiled at my boyfriend.
“Do you want to go get gelato after this?”
