Page 89 of Puck Me Secretly

“After that fucking speech, do I have a choice?”

“Okay. Let’s do this.”

“Stay where I can see you.” He demanded before he stalked out of the room.

“Max, loosen up.”

“Max, can you crack a smile?”

“Max, baby. You look like you’re about to kill someone.”

“Max, this is a sexy calendar. You look like you’re posing for your passport photo.”

The photo shoot was a disaster. Max’s movements were stiff and uncomfortable. The photographer barked commands at him, and I heard grumblings they weren’t getting any good shots.

The photographer turned to adjust his lens, and I took that time to walk over to Max.

“How’s it going?”

“How the fuck do you think it’s going?”

He sounded so pissy about it, I resisted the urge to smile. “What’s wrong?”

“I hate this music.”

“What else?”

“There’s too many fucking people in this room.”

“Would it help if they left?”

“Anything would help at this point.”

“What else?”

“I’m wearing my skates and a pair of underwear. Some clothes would be nice.”

I chewed on my lip, thinking about what I would need to hear if I stood in his place. I would need someone to encourage me. Did Max need encouragement? That would mean I’d need to put myself on my line. The part of myself that I tried so hard to hide from him.

I stared at my sneakers and then, in an act of bravery, lifted my face to his. “You look sexy, okay? Women everywhere will get all hot and bothered when they see your photo.”

His eyes widened and then there it was. The start of that smile. “Bullshit.”

I leaned closer. “You’re so hot it’s unfair to all the other dudes in this calendar.”

I turned to walk away, and he reached out and grabbed my wrist, spinning me around.

“People, are we ready?” the photographer called out.

Max’s eyes were on my mouth. “Get rid of everyone.”

“I will.”

Ten minutes later,the music was off and only three people remained. Max, the photographer and myself.

I stood behind the photographer.

“Okay Max. I want you to think of sex.”

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