“Just that you tried to manipulate him to get the pipeline re-routed.” If I didn’t know better, I’d think that was admiration in Owen’s voice.
“Manipulate.” I huff a harsh laugh. “I tried to get him to do what was right, but of course, principles are negotiable with him. It’s an old argument that I don’t want to have with you. There was a girl there. One of the protesters.”
“You fucked her?”
The bald question pinches a frown between my eyebrows. “She was seventeen and I was a graduate student, Owen. No, I did not fuck her. Jesus.”
“But you wanted to,” Owen says with wicked insight.
“Anyway,” I bulldoze over the innuendo in his voice, “she’s here. It’s been like four years and by some crazy coincidence, she’s here in Amsterdam.”
“So now you want to fuck her.”
God, so badly.
I forbid the words from leaving my mouth.
“I want to get to know her. I’m not doing relationships or anything like that. After Antarctica, it’s the Amazon. Then after that, we’ll see, but I can’t do the strain of a long-distance relationship.”
“I can’t say that anyone has left the kind of impression on me that this girl has left on you.”
“I didn’t say she left an impression.”
“This is me, Max. I’ve known you since before you knew yourself. I hear impression all in your voice.”
“Whatever.”
“I’m saying maybe she’s not a wild oat,” Owen offers. “Maybe she’s a wild dream.”
`
12
Lennix
“This,” Kimba says, tipping her head back as our tour boat cuts through the canal and under the arch of a bridge, “is the life.”
Kimba, Viv, and I sit at the far end of the sloop. The guide, or skipper as he suggested we call him, stands at the other. A hostess checks on us, ensuring we’re still plied with Moët, gin, Perrier, heavy hors d’oeuvres, and sandwiches I can barely get my hand around.
“Agreed,” Viv slurs, half-drowsy, half-drunk on cocktails and sunshine, “I’m so glad we chose Amsterdam for our last hurrah.”
Last hurrah because when we get back to Arizona, we finish the little that’s left of our final semester and real life begins.
I push away all thoughts of the decisions I still have to make about my next steps. I don’t want to think any further into the future than tonight. A slow, secret smile pushes the corners of my mouth. Why think of the future when the present holds Maxim Kingsman? A literal sigh slips past my lips at the thought of him. What’s next? A dead swoon?
“All that sighing and grinning happening over there . . .” Kimba waves a finger at me like it’s a wand. “. . . means it must have been good last night with the doctor.”
I try to control my smile, but it just keeps getting bigger. I cover it as much as I can by taking a long sip of my jenever, which really is quite growing on me. Kimba and Viv have been asking about last night, and I’ve only given them crumbs so far, holding the details close.
“Yeah, he’s great,” I downplay, because I could stand up in this boat and fire off about thirty superlatives for that man and his hands and his lips and those kisses from last night.
But restraint.
“What are you wearing on your date tonight?” Vivienne singsongs teasingly.
“I don’t know.” I look from one to the other, not wanting to abandon my friends, but wanting to see Maxim. “You guys sure you’re okay with me going?”
“Oh, honey, we’ve spent the whole day together,” Kimba says. “Besides, David buzzed ya girl. I was going to ask if I might be excused anyway for some one-on-one with him.”