Emma
Max flirted with me at the bar over cocktails. He was charming and I basked in the attention. I should have shut it down after one drink, but something about the way Jack had been pushing and pulling me lately made me reckless. I wanted to prove—to myself, to him—that I wasn’t waiting around for whatever undefined thing simmered between us.
Halfway through my next drink, Max leaned in slightly. “Dance with me?”
I hesitated for half a second before grabbing my drink and downing the rest in one gulp. “Why not?”
He took my hand, leading me onto the dance floor, and soon we were moving together. Max was a good dancer—smooth, confident, easy to follow. He pulled me close, his hands resting at my waist, his breath warm against my ear as he murmured something I couldn’t hear over the mus
