Although he’s cocky, arrogant, and so full of shit sometimes, there is so much about Max that people don’t really get to see.
The history between Max and me runs deep, and I hate that I’m even telling it because for one, most of it is not my story to tell, and two, John would hate that I’m thinking about another man while on my sickbed.
But I have to. Why? Because being with Max was probably one of the best times of my life, even if it was a big eye-opener in the end.
I actually felt alive with him, and not in the corny sense, where people constantly party and travel and jump off of cliffs. No. That’s not what feeling alive is to me.
Feeling alive to me, is being around someone who can make you feel things you never thought possible. A person who can help you cherish every small moment, even the bad ones. Feeling alive is when your heart beats madly as you watch the person you love approach.
That person lights your soul on fire and ignites the better parts of you—makes you see the good in yourself when you look in the mirror every day. And when you do look at yourself, you just...shine.
You shine bright and bold like the sun on the first few days of summer. You’re beautiful. You feel like you can take over the world with just that inkling of love in your heart.
Perhaps I shouldn’t just call it feeling alive. Maybe I should call it happiness as well. Without a doubt, there was a time when I could say Max made me the happiest woman on earth, but sometimes things happen that are out of our control, and that happiness morphs into something else—something depressing and heartbreaking.
Sometimes things change and before we can work hard to get it all back, it’s too late. It’s done, and deep down we regret not fighting for the one thing that completed us.
The night that I agreed to go on that date with Max, I knew what I was in for. I knew I would most likely get hooked, start looking forward to his text messages every day, and even look forward to seeing him at work.
I knew I would fall for him…but what I didn’t know was how unprepared I was going to be when it all happened.
SEVEN
Past
It was nearing eight the night of our date and Max still hadn’t arrived. I stepped in front of the mirror, plucking the clumpy pieces of mascara off my eyelashes and cursing beneath my breath.
Emilia, my roommate, walked into my room, flipping her wrist and checking her waterproof watch.
She was retro, with silver braces, pigtails in her hair and rainbow pajamas. I loved her for it, though. She was unique, the very reason I allowed her to become my roommate. She never pretended to be anyone but herself.
“Wow…you finally score a once in a lifetime date and he doesn’t show? That’s gotta burn,” said Emilia.
I looked at her reflection in the mirror, narrowing my eyes at her. “He’ll show. He has to.” Because he would be stupid to cancel on me when we work together.
“He’d better.” Someone knocked on the door as soon as she said that. I already knew who that someone was, and my heart pounded in my chest.
Emilia’s eyes stretched, as if she had some big idea. “Hey, I’m gonna peek around the corner to see him, alright?” It was funny how she could ask a question and be serious, but also completely oblivious of how corny she sounded.
“Em,” I laughed, “you don’t have to sneak to see him. Just come out and meet him.”
“Looking like this?” she shrieked. “No. Fuck that. I’m wearing my mom’s favorite pajamas every night until Aunt Flo passes. I’m bloated and craving nothing but sweets—oh, make sure you get my chocolate cupcake, too!” She skipped off to her room, cracking the door and I shook my head with a laugh as I grabbed the doorknob and twisted it open.
Max had a hand pressed on the wall outside the door, towering above me with a smirk on his lips. His nearness caught me off guard and I took a step back, brows furrowing.
“What are you doing?” I laughed.
“Eavesdropping.” He looked around the room. “Where’s your friend?”
“Oh my goodness!” I laughed. “Don’t worry about it!”
He shrugged, pulling his hand down and sliding his fingertips into the front pockets of his black pants. “Tell her there’s nothing wrong with a woman in pajamas on a Friday night.”
“Yeah.” I scoffed, picking my satchel up off the table. “Keep it in your pants, Playboy.”
He chuckled, stepping back to let me out the door. As I pulled out my keys and started to close the door, I spotted Emilia rushing to the living room and mouthing the words, “Oh. My. Fucking. God!”