Sugar Rush (Friend-Zoned 3)
I’m so shocked at this change of behavior that I balk. I recover quickly with, “I think we just became best friends.”
Her smile is so wide, so beautiful, that I want to cry. I’m getting through to her.
And somehow, Max knew I would.
***
Max
Nuh uh. I don’t like this. Not one bit.
Why does she have to be so damn beautiful? I’m having a hard time controlling myself around her. When I saw her bent over in front of the fridge, I couldn’t stop myself. I had to feel her body against mine. So I did what I did. Worse decision I’ve ever made in my life. As soon as my front pressed into her back, images of Helena moaning and gasping as I hold her long brown hair in my fisted palm and drive into her assaulted me. Of course I started to get hard. I had to back away.
I want her. What’s worse is she’s not here for me. She’s here for Ceecee. So I’ll do what I’ve been doing for years, doing what I do best.
I’ll hold back.
***
Helena
Ceecee and I walk out the front door to the fancy black SUV parked out front. The car flashes its lights then chirps, letting us know it’s unlocked. Ceecee wheels ahead. My brows narrow as she wheels to the side of the vehicle and opens the sliding door. She presses a button on the inside, and a ramp is lowered.
I can’t help myself. “Holy crap, this is awesome!”
Max opens the front door and slides into the driver’s seat. “Yeah, we like it.”
This is the coolest, most sporty looking wheelchair-accessible vehicle I’ve ever seen. “What is this?”
As Ceecee makes her way up the ramp and secures herself, Max explains, “It’s called an MV-1.”
I shake my head. “Never heard of it.”
He nods. “It’s only been out a month or so. Thankfully, I signed up early and we got one of the first sixty made. The manufacturer is here in New York, so that probably made it easier. That, and the fact I was willing to pay in cash.”
Looking around the vehicle, I whisper, “I love it.” Then I say out loud, “I am so glad you’re not one of those tools who owns a fast car.”
Max stiffens, and then stutters, “W-why?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I just don’t like ‘em. They’re stupid, and so unnecessary.”
Ceecee giggles from the backseat. “Daddy has a Jag.”
I turn in my seat. “A what?”
She giggles some more. “A Jaguar.”
I look back at her and groan. She giggles louder. I look over at Max and bite my lip to hold in my laugh. “Not that you’re a tool, Max. I only meant all the other tool-ish people who have stupid cars for no good reason.”
He pulls out of the driveway and he looks to be pouting. We drive in silence for a few minutes before he explodes in a rush of words, “A Jag isn’t just a car, m’kay? It’s power under your feet. It’s speed and sheer excellence, all right? It’s—”
I cut in with, “A crappy way to spend a hundred grand.”
And Ceecee loses it again. She laughs so hard I fear she may wet herself. So she likes her dad being made fun of? I hate myself a little right now that I like Max being made fun of as long as she’s smiling. I’ll have to apologize to him later.
Max sighs. “You’re a girl. You don’t get it. If I were having this conversation with a guy, he’d get it. You need testicles for this conversation. Do you have testicles, cupcake?”
I fight my smile. “I don’t thin—”