In a Heartbeat (Heartbeat #1) (20 page)

Shit. This is going to be harder than I thought.

Stella tried to keep her eyes focused on his, but couldn’t resist dropping them to his lips. Max kissed the corner of her mouth and lingered for a few seconds, before forcing himself to move away. She exhaled the breath she’d been holding and again, just like this morning, the disappointment was evident in her eyes.

Not yet, baby. Not yet.

“You wanna play games, Max?” she asked, the timbre of her voice dropping low. “’Cos I can play too, if that’s what you want.”

She wasn’t smiling or joking anymore. With one last glance in his direction, Stella was off to the dance floor.

Fuck.

*

Stella was furious. Max was acting like a jerk. He could very well see the effect he had on her, but still he teased her. And not only that, but humiliated her by pulling away at the last moment, smirking with satisfaction and leaving her to hang dry.

She was sick of his games. First, he wanted her; then he’d promised they’d be just friends; then he started chasing her and making her want him.

As if I ever stopped.

The rational part of her brain told her that it was better this way. Getting angry at Max was good. At least it distracted her from her need to be with him in every possible way. But the bigger, irrational part told her that she’d make him insanely jealous tonight and enjoy it.

Payback is a bitch.

The moment she reached the dance floor, a couple of guys zeroed in on her and moved her way. A tall, very attractive man got to her first and, taking her hand, spun her around. He was a very good dancer – nothing like Beppe, but no one was anywhere near Beppe’s league – and Stella enjoyed dancing with him. Her feet were starting to hurt from the new shoes, but she decided to ignore the pain. No pain, no gain, right?

She managed to steal a few glances in Max’s direction and he looked just as pissed off as Stella wanted him to be. When the fourth dance song started, Stella had to excuse herself because her feet were not just killing her – they were already dead and gone. The guy – she never caught his name over the loud music – offered to buy her a drink, but she politely refused. That might be pushing it a bit too far. She didn’t want to be responsible for his broken nose.

Sitting back on her stool, she fanned herself dramatically and asked the other bartender for a virgin sangria. He seemed to enjoy the events revolving around him and introducing himself as Marco, kissed her hand, no less, before making her the cocktail.

“Having fun?” Max asked, his voice stony.

“Yeah, a lot. You were right – it was much better to come here than slouch in front of the TV all evening.” She was pushing his buttons and she knew it. Max’s eyes flashed dangerously with something possessive and angry. Stella refused to flinch or drop her act. He was getting what he deserved.

“Good. I’m glad,” he said and, giving her the most sarcastic, tight smile Stella had ever seen, walked away to serve a client.

OK, so he was sending the ball back in her field. What did he expect? That she’d just sit here and wait for him to tease her some more? Make her feel vulnerable, then stab her in the back? Stella hated playing mind games with the people she cared about, but he started this and now he was going to have to stay until the end.

*

Even though Max knew why she was doing this, it didn’t make it any less painful. She had danced with that fucking asshole all night. At least she had had the common sense not to let him buy her any drinks or flirt with her at the bar. That would have been the push Max needed and the guy would have flown out of the back door with at least three broken ribs.

Stella was smart. She knew exactly how much to push without crossing the line.

Max regretted teasing her with that kiss earlier. It wasn’t fair. She had been so convinced that he was going to do it. Even more, she had wanted him to do it as badly as he had. The look in her eyes had changed the instant Max had pulled away, from lust and expectation to hurt and determination. He had never intended to make her feel that way. Now he was torn between his regret and the need to apologise, and his desire to drag her off that dance floor and lock her in the storage room until he was done for the night.

“Looks like I’m coming just in time to smooth out that crease between your eyebrows, bro,” Beppe’s drawl interrupted Max’s thoughts.

“Where have you been, man? I tried calling you yesterday and three times today. What the hell happened?”

“Didn’t you get the pics I sent you?”

“I did, but that’s hardly an explanation of where you are. Or rather, how you are.”

“I’m cool,” he said – although his expression suggested he was anything but.

“Beppe ...” Max began.

“Look, man, I don’t want to talk about it. I’m here to relax, get drunk and preferably get back home with a hot piece of ass. So drop it, OK?”

Max nodded. He knew his friend well enough to know that if he didn’t want to talk, he wouldn’t. He’d catch him in a better mood later this week and make him spill the beans about him and Gia, because lately something had definitely been going on.

“Speaking of a hot piece of ass ...” Beppe’s eyes trailed to the dance floor and he fixed them on Stella, who was dancing with that prick, his back to them. “Holly shit, is that Stella?” he said as she turned around, a smile fixed on her face, clearly having fun. “What did you do?”

“Why do you immediately assume I did something?” Max asked, leaving the glass he was drying a bit too forcefully on the counter.

“Because Stella’s over there, dancing with some guy when usually she doesn’t leave your side if we go out together. And you’re here, pissed off.” When Max didn’t disagree, Beppe continued, “So, what did you do?”

“Long story.”

“Make it short.”

Sighing, Max rubbed the back of his neck.

“I want her, man. Like want
want
her. She comes up with these stupid excuses why we can’t be together, when I can see she wants me too. The other night, I took her home to give her my Genoa shirt and in a moment of weakness, I kissed her. She kissed me back and if her phone hadn’t started ringing, she would’ve stayed the night, I just know it. But then she got hold of herself and I drove her home. I decided there and then to make her want me as much as I want her – I don’t want her to have any regrets if we end up in the same situation again and there’s nothing to stop us.” Max paused and glanced towards the dance floor. The guy Stella was dancing with was getting braver and was holding her closer. He frowned.

“OK, that was before the match on Saturday. You both seemed to get along well then.”

“Yeah, we did. Until I made the decision to tease any reluctance out of her. We went running today and I almost kissed her – pulled away at the last moment. Tonight, when she walked in here, I almost kissed her again. She wanted me to. She was so ready for it. And not only did I pull away, again, but I looked triumphant about it. Honestly, I
was
triumphant – but for a different reason. I was so happy I had such an effect on her – that she wants me as much as I do. Of course, she took it the wrong way and hasn’t stopped dancing with that fucking idiot over there all night.”

“You’re the fucking idiot. Stop playing games and making plans. If you want her, get her! Tell her how you feel.”

“I told her!”

“Are you sure?” Beppe raised an eyebrow.

Thinking about it, Max hadn’t told Stella how he felt. He’d said that she was driving him insanely jealous, and he flirted outrageously with her, but that was it.

“What’s the point?” He felt she would probably come up with some useless excuse again and leave him hanging.

Beppe didn’t say anything; just shook his head.

“I’m going to save your ass tonight, but you owe me,” he winked at Max and headed to the dance floor.

Beppe got rid of the guy dancing with Stella in ten seconds flat, after some heated words were exchanged and, throwing her his most charming smile, started dancing with her. She shook her head and glanced in Max’s direction, but couldn’t resist Beppe’s moves and was soon completely engulfed in the dance.

*

Stella was sure Max had sent Beppe to dance with her. It was fortunate for both of them that Beppe was an amazing dancer, and she was glad he’d got rid of that guy – she had been starting to think of ways to do that herself, without causing a scene.

A slower song started playing and Beppe enveloped her in his arms. Stella relaxed against him.

“Stella?” he said and she lifted her head of his chest. “I know Max is a dumbass, believe me. But he’s completely out of his depth here,
cara
. You need to help him.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s never been into a girl like he’s into you. He doesn’t know how to handle it. He may have driven you crazy today, but it’s because he doesn’t believe you want him and he’s afraid that you’ll reject him.”

Stella didn’t say anything, but just placed her head back on Beppe’s chest. He was right. Max was afraid that she’d reject him because she already had.

“He’s a good guy. He deserves someone like you.”

Stella felt tears welling up and didn’t want Beppe to see, so she just nodded against his chest.

They danced some more until the place was almost empty and final drinks were announced; Max started closing the bar. Beppe took her back to her seat and she awkwardly sat down, unable to look at Max.

“You owe me a hot piece of ass,” Beppe winked at his friend, and kissing Stella goodbye, left.

The last customers left with him, as well as Marco and the waitresses. It was just the two of them.

Ever since she’d met him, Stella had never felt awkward being alone with Max: but now she didn’t know what to say. Studying the fingers on her left hand intently, she thought about starting with a simple ‘I’m sorry’, because she really was. As usual, she’d blown the situation out of proportion.

She saw Max’s fingers entwine with hers and looked up.

“Max, I’m sorry. I overreacted ...” she began, but he interrupted her.

“No, Stella, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have teased you like that. I’m sorry.”

“I came here to spend some time with you, because ... Well, I missed you today. And I spent the whole night dancing with someone else, even though I promised I wouldn’t intentionally make you jealous.” She placed her head in her hands, trying to collect her thoughts. Max was silent, as if waiting for her to make the first move. “It’s just that … when you placed that kiss next to my lips instead of
on
them, I felt ... cheated. As if I’m nothing more than a game to you.”

“Stella ...”

“No, wait. Let me finish. I know I’ve pushed you away before and I kind of deserved it: but please don’t do it again.” Talking about it brought back the whole spectrum of emotions Stella had gone through when he had pulled away from her and smirked with satisfaction. She felt tears push their way to the surface and hated herself for it.

Max came around the bar and spinning her body on the stool, hugged her tightly. She buried her face in his neck, inhaling his special Max scent, and instantly relaxing. He caressed her hair, playing with it, but didn’t say anything.

“I think we should cool this off. Cool
us
off,” said Stella, her voice muffled from his shirt. “Be my friend, OK? I want to be around you, but stop the flirting, teasing, suggestive comments and lingering touches. I need time to sort out my own head.”

Max’s nod was barely noticeable. He didn’t let go of her, though. He continued to hold her and play with her hair.

They stayed like that for a while until they were both ready to let go.

Chapter Sixteen

Stella woke up early – again. Recently, she’d been functioning on a few hours’ sleep a night and it was starting to take its toll. She felt tired and off balance. Despite that, she decided to go for a run because it would definitely raise her energy levels, even though the mere thought of doing anything remotely physical right now seemed like torture.

Putting on her work-out clothes, Stella left the house as silently as she could, because nobody else was awake yet. On the beach, she decided to run in the opposite direction to her usual route, because the chance of meeting Max was too great and she didn’t feel like seeing or talking to him that early. She needed to have some oxygen pumped into her blood first in order to think straight and face him.

Yesterday had been quite a day. Stella had been thrown from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other, and she was feeling dizzy by the time she finally got home and collapsed on the bed. Remembering how tenderly Max had held her in his arms last night brought a smile to her face. They’d both made mistakes, but the important thing was that they’d come clean and taken responsibility for their actions. When he’d dropped her off later, he’d promised no more games. No more teasing. The atmosphere in the car had changed almost instantly – Stella had relaxed and Max had seemed less intense about how he felt.

That gave her hope that maybe they could work through this. Maybe the attraction between them was growing into friendship and maybe by the time she had to go home, Stella would have gained a good friend, instead of a broken heart.