Page 3 of Fanged Temptation

It was a betrayal really, of the highest degree, that my heart would feel anything other than anger at the woman standing before me. And Iwasangry, I was furious. But I was also… happy to see her. How long it had been since I last laid eyes on her – too long.

And whose fault is that?She left you,my brain whispered, but my heart would hear nothing of it.She’s here now, was the thrummed response.

Maxine. Her hair was darker, chestnut brown overtaking the strawberry blonde I remembered from our youth. It curled just under her chin, framing a heart-shaped face that hadn’t changed much since back then. But she’d ditched the peach lipgloss andpale blush for heavy makeup, dark liner winging out from the corners of her eyes.

Eyes the color of molten chocolate, rich and warm and flecked with amber. A 1960s starlet, standing across the stretch of tarmac with her lips parted in a daze. Tentatively, I closed the gap between us, each step carrying me closer to the woman who had once meant the world to me.

Maxine looked stunned, her eyes scanning my face like she was trying to decide whether I was a figment of her imagination or real flesh and blood. I stopped a few feet in front of her and paused – sucked in a steadying breath.

With no clever greeting at the ready, my hands found refuge in the pockets of my coat and my chin jutted out as I met her eyes. I was going for casual, confident, but my strained greeting said otherwise.

"Uh, hey.”

Maxine stared like I’d grown a second head, then let out a dubious laugh.

"Hey," she echoed, cautious and hesitant, but the undercurrent of tenderness in that single utterance loosened the tight knot of anger in my chest.

"It’s good to see you," I heard myself say, and I meant it. Despite everything.

“What are you –” Maxine took a half-step toward me, fingers reaching out before her hand fell to her side again. “I mean… You’re here – what are you doing in New York?”

I forced a shrug, fixing a wobbly smile on my face. “I moved here, got a job working near the docks. I’m now a bona fide–”

“–marine biologist.” Maxine finished my sentence for me, the ghost of a smile whispering across her features. “You always wanted to be one.”

“I’m surprised you remember.” I scuffed the heel of my boot across the pavement, both of us tiptoeing around the absolute absurdity of the situation. “It’s… been a while.”

A hush of silence followed my statement and I struggled to tear my eyes from the ground to look at her. That small kernel of anger flickered again, a faint spark in the dark, and my lips parted to ask her… why?

Why did you leave without saying goodbye?

But the question lodged in my throat, bitter words I could not bring myself to utter. I was afraid of the answer, afraid that all of my insecurities would be confirmed. Afraid that I was indeed easy to leave, and had never mattered to her at all.

When I finally met her eyes, Maxine opened her mouth, shut it again, and sighed. She looked uneasy, wrestling internally with whatever it was she wanted to say but wouldn’t. I waited.

I wasn’t sure what I was waiting for – an apology maybe? An explanation? Or maybe just confirmation that some small part of her had felt my absence the way I had suffered hers. Some slight reassurance that there was indeed a vacant gap in her heart that mirrored my own, however small.

Still, Maxine said nothing but she stepped forward, words dancing unspoken on the tip of her tongue, her eyes searching like she’d somehow find the answers in mine. Then she shook her head, cursed under her breath and, before I could brace myself, flung her arms around my neck and pulled me into an embrace.

I tensed up in her arms, heart thumping wildly in my chest, as I stared at some unfixed point in the distance and her long-familiar scent washed over me. Vanilla and jasmine, wildflowers and sweet honey, every lovely thing that bloomed under the sun. I inhaled it, tentatively lifting my hands to her back, fisting in her cardigan as the memories flooded back.

Past and present blurred, and the years of absence faded into the background. Here, under the flickering streetlights, with the hum of city nightlife growing to a crescendo, I allowed myself a moment of weakness. I let myself miss her, let myself remember the bond we once had. And for a brief, fleeting instance, I imagined what it might be like to have that again.

To walk hand-in-hand through the mist-shrouded streets of San Francisco like we used to. To sit impatiently while she applied my makeup and worried over my unbrushed hair, one hand tucked under my chin, tilting my head this way and that as she surveyed her handiwork.

Where had those days gone?

To the past, now. And, I had to remind myself, for the best. Things were different now –Iwas different, and so was she. We could never go back to what we were. The reality of our situation settled back around me like an old, familiar coat. We were not the same people who had once been inseparable. Life had moved on, and so had we, in directions that would never re-converge.

And if I were to let myself slip back into old feelings, to worry at old wounds, I would not be able to do what I came here to do.

It was an effort to untangle myself from her arms, to step away and re-establish the distance between us. Maxine reluctantly released me and backed up, fiddling with the strap of her bag. I cleared my throat and she stared at the floor, both of us unsteady and uncertain.

“We should –” I began, and then shut up abruptly when our words came out in unison. “Sorry, you go first.”

“No, it’s fine!” Maxine’s voice was shrill, the tips of her ears flushing pink where they poked out from her curls. “I was going to say we should… hang out, maybe, you know? Catch up – if you’d like.”

“I would…” I regarded her for a long moment, weighing my next words carefully. “I’d like that. Here – ” I rooted around inmy coat pocket and pulled out a leaky pen and an old receipt, scribbling my number down on the back before thrusting it into her hands. “Give me a call sometime.”

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