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“Jeez, I’m tired,” Miranda yawned. “What a day. And it’s not even nine.” She cricked her neck as Max approached her.
Swinging a hotel room key off his forefinger, he stopped a couple of steps in front of her, where she had been waiting in the lobby with their bags while he checked them in. “And we’re due back on shift at seven,” he added wearily. “Not really enough time for my beauty sleep! Or for breakfast since the dining room only opens at seven thirty.” He looked particularly miserable about this last part.
Miranda thought for a second, knowing well from experience that a hungry Max was not a fully-operational Max. “I spotted a bakery down the road. We can get something there on the way back in — they’ll be open early.”
“Good thinking,” Max agreed. He picked up his and Miranda’s bags and started off down a long, brightly-lit corridor. He span round to talk to her, walking backwards for a few paces while she caught up. “Room’s this way. Basic, but at least we don’t have to waste two hours of sleeping time going back and forth to Palma.” He bumped into the wall, tripped over his own foot as he reached out to stop himself falling, then hurriedly turned to face the right way to avoid further mishap.
Miranda stifled a smile. “Mmm. Suppose it might just about be worth sharing a room with you to get more sleep,” she replied doubtfully as she strode behind him. “Although I still think the budget could’ve stretched to two. I mean, surely?!”
“Moot point: there was only one left for miles around,” Max shot over his shoulder. He stopped at the end of the hallway and put the bags down in front of the last room. He fiddled with the key in the lock, then hesitated just before opening the door. Looking apprehensive, he turned to Miranda. “About the room-”
“Max, I’m exhausted. Just let me in.” She grabbed her bag and pushed past him, not waiting to hear what he wanted to say. She noticed him close his eyes and brace himself for her reaction as she went.
“An air bed?!” she exclaimed angrily just a few seconds later. “Is this a joke?” Her cheeks felt hot with raging indignation.
Max followed her in. “Nope. Only option. Last available room and it was about to be refurbed, so no actual bed.”
Miranda caught the guilt in his voice. She wondered when he’d found this important detail out. “Seriously?! This is worse than bloody camping because at least you’re going into that expecting a crap night. Inés didn’t say anything about this!” She stomped her foot with irritation. Her face was pink as she surveyed the sleeping area critically. “Just one double one as well. Ugh!” She pursed her lips.
“Best that could be done, apparently,” Max shrugged. “We’ll manage. I do have to warn you I sometimes have a tendency to kind of end up diagonal during the night though.”
Miranda tipped her head back and exhaled noisily. “Fantastic. So I’ll just have a wobbly corner to curl up in while you sprawl out. Ridiculous.”
Max sucked his cheeks in and puffed his chest out. “Do you think my budget is endless, Detective Blake?” he asked in an attempt at a Spanish-accented female voice, his head cocked to one side comically. “Surely you can handle one night for the good of the country, hmm?”
“Knock it off, Max.” Miranda was unamused by the Inés impression being trotted out again.
“I know, like she’s in the room,” he grinned. “Unnerving.”
Miranda tutted and turned away. She knelt on the floor and unpacked her pyjamas and toiletries. She’d selected her thickest and least revealing nightwear after Inés had told them they’d have to share a room. If she’d known that it would extend to sharing a bed too, she’d have brought a camping roll and sleeping bag.
This was going to be an excruciatingly awkward and confusing night, she mused with dread. She wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about Max still; he was her best friend definitely, but she kept wondering whether she wanted more with him. She’d found herself thinking about kissing him with alarming frequency the last few months, but the idea of an actual relationship scared the hell out of her.
Besides that, she couldn’t quite make up her mind about whether Max was interested in her too; his natural flirtiness made it hard to get to the real truth. There was no way she’d act without the reassurance of reciprocation, so she was stuck in a limbo of ignorance and indecision. She had too much to lose anyway: their partnership and their friendship. Both meant so much to her — too much to throw away lightly.
“You can have first pick of a side,” Max offered out of the blue behind her, interrupting her train of thought.
She got to her feet, holding her nightwear and wash bag. “Uh huh.” It was a fair price for withholding information from her.
“I can sleep pretty much anywhere,” he added as she turned to face him.
“I can’t,” she said flatly. This would not be a restful night.
Max smiled. “You fell asleep on my sofa in no time,” he reminded her.
“I was exhausted. Way more than tonight even,” she countered irritably. She recalled that occasion over a year ago; she’d woken to find he’d sweetly draped a blanket over her.
“And totally comfortable with me,” he pressed, grinning cheekily. “Your best buddy.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
...
Max let Miranda use the bathroom first, while he put the bedding on the unstable mattress. Miranda sidled back into the room self-consciously, holding the clothes she’d just removed in front of her so that Max wouldn’t see her quite so vulnerable in her pyjamas. She stood awkwardly waiting for him to go and take his turn.
As soon as he’d shut the bathroom door behind him, she scurried into bed, pulling the covers up over her so that only her head and shoulders poked out. The bumpiness and shifting support from the mattress took some adjustment, as would Max joining her, she knew. As she lay there tired and annoyed, she wished there had been a mini-bar in the room so that she could simultaneously numb herself into sleep and rack up a bill to give Inés a fright.
Miranda realised after a couple of uncomfortable minutes that she was quite cold and not heating up much yet, despite the cosy sleepwear; the lack of furniture in the room had left it feeling draughty and bare. She sat up and grabbed some more blankets from the pile the hotel staff had left. She draped them over the top of the ones Max had already spread out, then lay back down and curled up.
Max emerged a few minutes later wearing a thin grey T-shirt and striped pyjama bottoms. He stopped when he noticed that Miranda had added more covers to their bed.
“Won’t need all those blankets with me here. I’m your personal portable heater,” he winked.
“Hurry up and get in then; I’m freezing cold!” she urged irritably.
“Ah, now you’re begging me to sleep with you!” he chuckled, blue eyes twinkling with mischief.
A stony silence ensued.
“Brr, I think it just got colder in here,” Max muttered as he dumped his clothes in a mound on the floor.
He came over to his side of the bed, flipped the covers back with his foot, then launched himself heavily down onto the air mattress with a happy sigh. The sudden force pushed all the air into Miranda’s side of the bed and threw her up with startling speed, ripping the bedding off her. She yelped as she found herself flying off the mattress and arcing uncontrollably across the room. Arms flailing, she landed face-down on a spare blanket with a thud, her golden hair in disarray around her and her pyjama top rumpled up to expose the creamy skin of her back.
“Max, what the hell?!” she shouted as she lifted her head to glare furiously at him.
Panic crossed Max’s features as he scrambled up and over to her. “Sorry, not used to these bouncy things. You ok?” he asked, sheepish at his clumsiness.
She raised her eyebrow tetchily. “I’ll find out when I can get up.” She shifted onto her side.
“Guess I should lose a few kilos...” Bending down, he held his hands out and helped Miranda to her feet.
She snatched her hands back as soon as she was upright, then smoothed her pyjamas down and tucked her hair behind her ears. “You’re very lucky there was a blanket right there and not just the bare tiles.”
“You’re ok then? Phew!” Max visibly relaxed. “Here, let me get you back into bed.” He put a hand on her waist and held the other out for her to hold.
“I can manage,” she insisted with a grumpy tone, shaking herself free of the unsettling touch. “Just focus on getting yourself in without sending me into orbit, yeah?”
Miranda got into bed again and rearranged the blankets over her, while Max gingerly slid himself in beside her. As soon as he was fully on the mattress, the weight difference sent Miranda rolling down towards him, so that they rapidly ended up face-to-face, pressed together.
“Cosy, isn’t it?” Max grinned just a few centimetres from her face.
To Miranda, he looked like he was having a great time, as if the sleeping arrangements were something he actually wanted and not an unwelcome trial of forced intimacy. His eyes seemed to be flicking almost imperceptibly to her lips, or was she just imagining that because she was thinking about kissing him, to her shame? Was it his habitual flirting again?
Unable to work out exactly what was going on between them, she grunted and rolled over, wriggling as far away as she could on the sloping bed. She checked through some messages on her phone to distract herself from the situation. After a couple of minutes, Max’s radiator-like effect made her need to kick half the covers off and stick her foot out of the side to regulate her temperature.
Max put his phone down and flicked off the bedside lamp that had been placed on the floor next to his side. “Sweet dreams, my sweet,” he spoke softly in the darkness.
“Err, yeah, night,” Miranda muttered back. My sweet?! What the hell did that mean? She’d been hoping to get to sleep pretty quickly if circumstances would allow it, but now she had that to add to her sleep-repelling worries. Great timing, Max.
...
At two in the morning, Miranda was abruptly awakened. Beside her, Max suddenly sat bolt upright, flung the covers off him and looked worriedly ahead.
“Will there be ensaïmadas?” he cried, his voice tinged with horror, presumably at the possibility that there wouldn’t. “Will there?!”
Miranda stared up at him blearily as he sat there swaying slightly with his features illuminated by the chinks of hallway lighting creeping in around the doorframe.
Max’s face softened after a few seconds, as if some dream figure had given him the answer he had been hoping for. Smiling, he sank back down, smacked his lips a couple of times and fell instantly back into full sleep.
Miranda lay awake for a quarter of an hour, wondering what the hell that had been about and whether to expect a repeat performance. Every time Max twitched or grunted contentedly, she felt a growing resentment towards him for resting while she couldn’t get back to sleep. Eventually she managed to drift off again by trying the calming breathing he had once got her to employ on the Sóller train; remembering the pain she’d inflicted on his hands that day did something to temper her current annoyance towards him too.
...
The first rays of morning woke Miranda a few hours later. She didn’t know why, but she was smiling. Something about waking up today felt so right, so happy and safe. She kept her eyes shut to enjoy it as her brain struggled to understand.
After a few seconds she came to the alarming realisation that the blissful warmth she was feeling was a very risky one. Her head was not, in fact, resting on the most comfortable pillow it had encountered in some time, but on the gently rising and falling chest of her slumbering compañero. Her hand was not laying on the soft covers, but on Max’s stomach, and her waist was not encircled by a tight blanket, but by his arm. She could feel his heartbeat through his thin T-shirt and the familiar, comforting scent of him surrounded her.
This was concerning. It felt so natural and so exactly what she needed. What was going on here? How had they got like this, and when? She couldn’t remember. If it had just happened somehow in their sleep, then Max wouldn’t either, would he? If she could manage to extricate herself without waking him, he’d never know anything about it, which was probably desirable if she wanted to avoid a conversation she didn’t think she was remotely ready for.
She carefully checked her watch, moving in a way that wouldn’t disturb him. She didn’t have to get up for at least twenty minutes. Maybe she could manage to snatch a little more rest before she took the first shower. Max wasn’t a morning person, so she’d almost certainly have to wake him and right now he looked as if he’d take some effort to rouse. What would be the harm in another twenty minutes of enjoying whatever this was?
...
Nearly half an hour later, Miranda slowly slid away from Max and crept out of bed, despite everything in her screaming to stay with him. As predicted, he did not wake up at her quiet movements. She stealthily grabbed her clothes and went to shower and dress.
When she returned feeling refreshed and ready for another tiring shift, her partner was still dead to the world. She put her pyjamas and toiletries neatly into her bag, then stood and watched him for a moment. So peaceful, she thought. And for once, not even a bit irritating.
She looked at her watch again; time to interrupt whatever dream had the corners of his mouth turned up like that. She stepped over to his side of their bed and crouched down. She put her hand on his shoulder and gently shook it, calling his name.
Max’s eyes flickered open. His expression on seeing Miranda before him was pure joy. She was in no doubt that he was happy she was the first thing he’d seen that day.
“Time to get up,” she told him briskly, not wanting to be late to go on duty. “I’ll go out and get breakfast while you shower.”
“Oh, thank you. Do you want to take my car?” he offered, still smiling at her.
She got to her feet. “No, a morning walk will do me good.”
“If you’re sure. That place we passed isn’t too close,” he advised.
She shook her head. “I’ll only be half an hour, maybe forty minutes. Make up a bit for missing my run.”
He nodded, rubbing his eyes as she walked off.
...
On her way, Miranda couldn’t stop herself thinking about the surprising morning cuddle. She needed more of that. How to get it though? This was not her area of expertise, not at all. More than that, she still wasn’t entirely sure quite what it was that she wanted, despite trying to figure it out as she had lain draped across Max, breathing him in. At least there was nothing pushing her to work it out quickly; she could take her time once she was back at home to do some soul-searching.
At the much closer shop that the night porter had pointed out to her as she left, she spotted something that she could get Max that would both please him greatly and allow her to tease him — two for the price of one. Purchases made, she strolled back to the hotel, soaking in the bright sun on her face and enjoying the chirping of the birds around her. She forced herself to stop worrying about the situation with Max and just enjoy the peace of her morning walk. Unhelpfully, her mind flashed back to waking up with him in the quiet glow of dawn. A smile played across her lips.
...
Miranda came back into the room about twenty minutes after she’d left, carrying her bag of pastries and fruit, and a couple of milky coffees. She registered the sounds of water running in the shower and a song she didn’t recognise at all. She strained to make out the lyrics through the bathroom door.
“Beautiful, ja, she’s so beautiful,
Her golden hair, her cute little smile,
Her quick mind keeping me on my toes,
For her, I think I’d even run a mile...”
“But does she, ja, does she love me too-oo?”
“Oh, Miranda, compañera,
Do you want me too?
Oh Miranda, compañera,
Won’t you love me too?”
Very interesting, Miranda thought. Very interesting indeed. That seemed like one area of uncertainty cleared up then: Max wasn’t just casually flirting with her, it was serious. He loved her. She sat cross-legged on the floor to nibble at her breakfast as she absorbed this news, her stomach and hands both a little shaky. She tried to hear the rest of the song, but it sounded like he’d given up on words and moved on to humming interspersed with sporadic bursts of whistling.
Max stepped out of the bathroom about five minutes later, his hair still damp and his dark blue shirt not buttoned up yet. He froze when he saw Miranda in the room, his mouth hanging agape; clearly he hadn’t expected her to return so soon.
“Oh. Umm, you’re back already,” he said weakly.
“Yeah, there was actually somewhere much closer that we didn’t see last night,” she supplied, before sipping her coffee to cover her nerves.
“Oh yeah?” His eyes darted shiftily.
She nodded. “Yeah, just a few minutes away.” She swallowed, feeling awkward, trying to keep her eyes on or slightly to the side of his face and not on the glimpses of his naked torso.
“So, you’ve been back a while then?” he ventured. He suddenly realised his chest was bare and he began to fumble with his shirt buttons, getting the first one in the wrong hole in his rush.
She stared at him. “Uh huh.”
“And you heard...?” He was visibly squirming now.
“Most of it, I think,” she answered in a quiet voice as she got up and walked over to him, bringing his breakfast. He wasn’t usually one for awkwardness, so seeing him like this was an intriguing novelty; it almost made her forget her own tense shyness arising from the creeping dread that this incident was about to trigger the emotional confrontation she didn’t want to have.
Max shut his eyes in embarrassment, then snapped them open, studying her intently. “And... wha-what did you think?”
She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Honestly? I’m not convinced by the melody and the bridge could definitely do with some work. Take it that was an original Winter composition?”
“Very funny. You know what I mean,” he muttered. He looked stressed.
She paused, then nodded slowly. Deep breath: time to be serious. And brave. She’d heard it all and he knew it. “You singing that you... love me and you want me to love you too?” she said softly. Somehow the silence in the room seemed like a roar and time did not seem to be slipping by at its usual pace. Just saying ‘love’ to him felt huge and weighty. It was not a word she used often.
“Mmm. You must have some thoughts on that?” His eyes scanned her face rapidly.
“Mmm,” she echoed. “I think... I think...” Damn, what the hell did she think?! What could she say to him now? It had to be the truth, but what exactly was that? ‘I think I maybe do love you too, but I’m atrocious with feelings and I’m just plain frightened of this whole thing... oh, and also please just kiss me now before I go out of my mind?’ It sounded stupid in her head, so it would definitely come across even worse if she blurted it out to him. She stood there, frozen, staring back at him as he waited desperately for some response to his inadvertent declaration.
Miranda’s watch beeped insistently, jolting them both out of the moment. She glanced down at the time. “Shit, we need to get going. Right away, or we’ll be late and Inés will be on our cases. Again.”
“Saved by the bell for now,” Max replied. “But this conversation is definitely to be continued later.” His tone made it clear he would not be letting it drop.
Miranda’s eyes widened in alarm. “Hrm,” was all she could manage. She shoved the bag she’d been holding in her hand out towards him. “Err, breakfast.”
Max peered inside. “Ooh, an ensaïmada!” He sounded a lot more cheery now, back on the firm ground of his beloved Mallorcan cuisine.
“I think you’d have started a riot otherwise,” Miranda smirked.
Max glanced up at her, brows knitted in puzzlement. “What?”
“At two am, you sat up and shouted about whether there were going to be ensaïmadas. Seemed like ‘yes’ was the only acceptable answer,” she explained. Her mouth formed a crooked smile of amusement.
Max’s eyebrows raised. “I did?! No memory of that at all.”
“Yep. Woke me up, so thanks for that,” she jibed. “Do you often talk in your sleep?”
“No,” he shook his head, looking guilty at disrupting her much-needed rest. “Only a handful of times I know of. When I’m in a new bed usually. Takes me a night to get used to it, so if we were staying another night you’d sleep uninterrupted.”
“Good to know,” Miranda replied as she turned to pack up her belongings. Useful information, should there ever be a reason for this to happen again.
...
All that day on duty, Miranda found herself driven to distraction by the nagging inevitability of the impending discussion with Max about feelings. She couldn’t see any way that it wouldn’t be painful. Of course, she knew the catastrophising could be lessened if she could just figure out what she should say, but it didn’t seem to be as easy as that. Whatever was in her head defied being curated into coherent sentences.
Max seemed ‘off’ all day too. Miranda felt for him: he’d told her he loved her, albeit accidentally, and she’d given him precisely nothing in return. The information vacuum must be torture for him. She really wanted not to be a cause of anguish for him, but she just couldn’t find her way through her internal conflict, not that she could talk to him about it while they were working anyway.
The day wore on, dragging them both down as they tried to act temporarily as if nothing had been said — or sung — that morning. Eventually, the afternoon was just about over and they could go off shift at last. They walked back to Max’s car in silence. As soon as they were in and on their way, Max turned the radio on and began to sing along, which Miranda knew was one of the methods he employed to help himself transition from the strains of public duty back to his more relaxed private life.
As they drove back towards Palma and their respective homes, Miranda found herself clinging to a slim hope that the conversation Max wanted to have was going to be delayed. He seemed tired, despite his gutsy singing; perhaps he’d just drop her off and go straight back to his place, buying her some time. She clutched her bag strap in one hand and her keys in the other in preparation for a speedy exit from the car when they arrived.
After a little while, Miranda realised that Max hadn’t just been taking the scenic route as he liked to do sometimes if they weren’t in a rush; he’d been driving them to some as yet unknown destination. He pulled up in the dusty main street of a little town she had only passed through once. She had no idea what was going on, but she had a sinking feeling it had to do with the little chat he had insisted they would be having.
“Just a couple of minutes,” he said as he put the handbrake on. “I need to get something from the deli for dinner.”
Miranda nodded, but stayed quiet. She wondered if she’d got it wrong just now and he was planning to go straight back to his apartment after all, if he was concentrating on food for the evening. She could only hope.
Back on the road and Miranda soon noticed that, again, they weren’t heading straight back to Palma. She said nothing, not wanting to draw attention to herself or to the elephant in the car.
Not long later, Max stopped the BMW beside a small, deserted sandy cove. He turned to Miranda and grinned.
“What’s going on?” she asked suspiciously.
“Dinner!” he announced.
She sighed. “Max, I’m tired. I’d like to go home.”
“You don’t have to do anything except walk on to the beach, sit down and eat. You can manage that, can’t you? For me? Please?” He looked at her over his sunglasses, revealing his startling blue eyes.
His face was begging her. She caved. “I suppose.”
...
Max laid a blanket he kept in the boot of his car out on the warm, pale sand, then gestured for Miranda to sit. She did so, feeling on edge; he was surely setting things up for them to talk now. What could she do though? They were alone on a beach miles from the nearest town, so she couldn’t very well stride off and make her own way home. Her options were either to shut down any attempt at discussing feelings or to go along with it and hope it wasn’t as clenchingly awful as she was expecting.
Max flopped down beside her and handed her a small wrapped baguette. “Here, just plain ham and cheese.”
She took it, accidentally brushing his fingertips with hers. “Thanks.” Why did her fingers feel tingly? And did her stomach really have to flip like that? Her body had always seemed to ignore her brain’s resolve to keep things purely platonic when it came to Max. Damn hormones.
“And orange juice.” He placed a bottle beside her thigh, wedging it over a dip in the sand beneath the blanket.
Miranda carefully unwrapped one end of her baguette, peering over at his with distaste. “What have you got?”
“Sobrasada, piquillo peppers and goat’s cheese. I’ve had it from there before. Delicious!” He grinned before taking a large bite.
“Take your word for it,” she remarked sarcastically. Maybe eventually she’d feel adventurous enough to try more of the local cuisine, but today was not that day.
They sat in silence as they ate, both lost in their thoughts, staring out over the placidly-rolling waves in front of them. Miranda fixed her gaze on a large piece of driftwood that was being carried along the coast. She felt just as lost and out of control at the moment, having been brought here unexpectedly for a conversation she didn’t want to have.
Max wiped his mouth with a paper napkin, rubbed some stray sausage off his fingers, then balled the tissue up and threw it down next to his half-empty juice bottle. He glanced sideways to Miranda, who still had some of her dinner left.
“So, did you sleep well, apart from me shouting about catering?” he enquired casually.
“It was ok, apart from that, I suppose,” she allowed, not looking at him.
He nudged her with his elbow. “I really enjoyed it.”
“Did you?” she replied warily.
“Very much. It was... cosy. The bit where you came over and cuddled up to me was very nice.” He was staring at her, she could tell from the corner of her eye. She kept her focus on the glinting sea; no need to encourage him.
“I thought that was you!” So he had been awake for the start of the cuddle then. How surprising that she had initiated it!
He laughed. “No, it was all your doing, Ms Only-affectionate-in-your-sleep.”
“Oh. Oh, right.” She turned her head so that he couldn’t see her expression, squinting into the sinking sun as she watched a gull wheel and dive. She’d given herself away during the night then: shit.
The discussion was clearly about to happen. It was going to be torturous and there was nothing much she could do to avoid it now; he seemed unlikely to accept her refusing to speak with him. She swallowed the last piece of her baguette, took a swig of orange juice and faced front again, calming her disquiet a little by timing her breathing to the breaking of the waves.
“So I was hoping we could have that conversation now?” Max asked, the words tumbling out in a rush.
Miranda blinked slowly and let out a small sigh. “Do we have-”
“Yes,” he interrupted. “Please? I- we need to. I’ve been going crazy today.” He quickly touched her arm, just long enough to get her to turn and look at him at last.
“Max, I... I don’t even know what to say,” she told him, the tremble in her voice pleading for postponement. She stared down fixedly at her knees, raised up in front of her.
His eyebrows leapt. “Still? You’ve had all day to think.”
“Yes, still!” she cried. As if half a day was enough time to unravel what was in her head and her heart.
“Ok, ok,” he put his palms up in a conciliatory gesture. “Calm down. I’m not trying to make this difficult.”
“Well this is difficult for me!” she snapped. It was annoying to her that he didn’t seem to fully get that; he was supposed to know her.
“Sorry,” he told her gently. “I forget you’re emotionally incompetent sometimes.” The twist at the corner of his mouth revealed his teasing as she shot a stern look at him.
“Thanks.” She glowered at him. Maybe if she was hostile enough he’d abandon this and she could go home, where there was nobody to make demands of her and she could sleep alone. A pang suddenly struck her — why did that now sound lonely in a way it hadn’t before?
“You know what I mean. It’s not your comfort zone,” he smiled.
She clamped her lips in discomfort. “Hmph.”
There was a short pause that hung heavily between them. Max broke it with a suggestion. “If you don’t know what to say, how about this: I ask you some questions and you say ‘yes’, ‘no’, or ‘don’t know’? Can you manage that?”
She quirked an eyebrow up. “Maybe.”
He smiled, looking a little relieved: joking was a good sign. “Not one of the options!”
“Ugh, yes! Get on with it then,” she growled, fists clenching up. She was grateful that at least he was giving her a slightly easier path through this. It would still be awful though.
He nodded quickly, excitedly even. “Alright. Let’s see... Do you love me as a friend?”
She took a deep breath. She wasn’t comfortable with the L-word even in this context, but if she didn’t have to actually say it she might cope. “Umm, yes?” she agreed tentatively.
“Ok, good,” he said with a wide smile. He took a moment, seemingly calculating where to go next. “Are you in love with me? You know now I am with you.”
He certainly wasn’t beating about the bush with his questioning then; she hadn’t expected to get so directly to this point. It felt like the breath had been knocked out of her. She rubbed her temples, eyes shut as she tried to stop the feeling of everything spinning and going in and out of focus. What the hell was the answer anyway?! She was going to have pass for now. “Don’t know,” she forced out.
Max frowned. “Why not?” He sounded more confused than upset.
She said nothing; he’d broken the rules of his own game and she didn’t know how to reply.
He shook his head, annoyed with himself. “Sorry, let me try again. Have you been in love before?”
“No?” she whispered. It was embarrassing to her that she’d got to her age and never felt it... before? Yes, before; it must be what she was feeling now, and had been for some time. The constant thinking about him, wanting to talk to him, be around him, hear his opinion, make him smile, tease him, touch him... She’d been ignoring the physical clues he set off in her too, for far too long now.
“So you’re not sure how being in love feels?” he tried, understanding in his kind voice.
“Yes.” But I’m getting it now, she thought. I’m actually in love. Wild.
Max’s eyes flickered over her guarded expression. “And it scares you, love, relationships?”
“Yes. Lots,” she confirmed shakily. She wrapped her arms protectively across her stomach.
“Ok. Well, obviously you don’t have to be in love with me now, just because I am with you. But you do want to be more than just friends with me?” he asked, desperate hope colouring his tone.
“Don’t know,” she said automatically, buying herself thinking time. Maybe the best course of action now she’d got this far was to be courageous, she decided. Take a risk and she might get something beautiful out of it — at least it wasn’t as big a gamble as it would’ve been before his morning confession. Time to let him in. She looked him in the eye, forcing herself to hold his expectant gaze. “Yes?”
“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” He was beaming now, his joy making him appear instantly years younger than he had been at the start of this fraught discussion. He settled himself, seeming to realise that there had been a rising intonation qualifying that ‘yes’. “Ok, but something, or maybe more than one thing, is holding you back still?” He was looking at her intently now.
“Yes,” she responded flatly. If only that could have been a ‘no’, if only life were that simple for her. She cursed her anxious, overthinking mind.
Max drummed his fingertips on his thigh. After a few seconds he had a stab at the problem. “You think that if we tried being something more than we are now, it could go wrong and mess up our friendship?”
“Yes,” she sighed. He was her best friend, one of only a small number; she had to hang onto him.
“You’re scared you’ll lose me?”
Her lip wobbled at the thought of it, the crushing loneliness after knowing such sweet friendship. “Yes.”
He nodded, pausing to think again. “And you’re worried too that it would affect our work, aren’t you? That we might have to stop being compañeros?”
“Yes!” she cried. How was he not concerned about that? He’d told her once that she was the best partner he’d ever had, but perhaps not working together wasn’t such an off-putting prospect to him, despite that. He always managed to get along with people well enough. He’d didn’t have the history of partner after partner wanting to transfer away like she did.
Max slapped his palms against his thighs decisively. “So, if work and friendship weren’t concerns, you’d want to be with me now. I’ve got that right?”
She stared past him. “Don’t know. Maybe...” She made herself bring her focus onto his face, trying to force a truthful answer out. If she was honest with herself, wasn’t that exactly what she wanted most? She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes slightly. “Yes?”
“Ok, well, that’s... good. Really good, actually,” he said brightly. His eyes sparkled.
“How?” Work — and who she did it with, more importantly — wasn’t suddenly going to stop being a big thing in her life, and she had no desire ever to be without his caring friendship.
Max beamed at her, delight in every fine feature. “You want to be with me! That’s everything!”
“But-”
He put a hand up to stop her. “You won’t lose me as a friend! I wouldn’t let that happen, not ever. I’m still friends with Carmen, you know that,” he reminded her. “You can’t get rid of me.”
“Hmm.” Her mouth twisted anxiously. Was it really possible that things could go wrong between them romantically and they would both still want to be friends after it? She didn’t know the full circumstances of the split with Carmen, but that they still saw each other socially was encouraging, wasn’t it?
“And work,” he continued enthusiastically. “Well, work is not the most important thing in life, despite what you may think. Sure, Inés might split us up, or she might just keep her eagle eyes on us, but neither of those things is the end of the world. We’d be ok. Together.”
“I don’t know-” Miranda started doubtfully. Until now, her job had been the biggest part of her life. Could a relationship really replace that, and make work changing for the worse acceptable? It seemed unlikely, and yet Max was so sure.
He smiled tenderly at her. “You haven’t been in love, in a proper relationship; it’s absolutely worth the risk, promise. With support, love, care, you can get through anything. You deserve a loving home life, you know.”
“Really?” She wanted to believe it now. The possible life he was describing could be just what she needed. All this time she’d been fine on her own, but maybe there was something better than fine waiting for her.
“Absolutely!” he cried. “We could have all that.” He reached out to squeeze her upper arm.
She looked down as he moved his hand back. “Hmm.” It was all so overwhelming. The more he talked, the more she wanted what he was hoping for though. Was she really going to go from waking up single and confused to ending the day with a boyfriend who’d already told her he loved her? It was unreal. This just didn’t happen to her.
“It’s ok if you’re still a bit scared,” Max said sweetly. “I’d take it slowly, whatever you want. You must know how much I care about you by now?” He blinked rapidly.
She smiled cautiously. “I think so.” He’d been showing it ever since they first met.
He relaxed a little, grinning back. “So, couple more questions.”
“Go on,” she told him, steeling herself.
He grabbed both her hands in his and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “Will you give ‘us’ a try, Miranda?”
She closed her eyes. This was it, time to give him an answer at last to the question that had plainly been on his mind all day. “I don’t know... Oh, jeez... Ok. Yes.” She peered uncertainly at him.
“There we go!” He rubbed his thumbs across her knuckles. His face was aglow with happiness. “Last question: can I kiss you now?” He looked eagerly at her.
That was a much easier one. There was only one response she wanted to give. She gazed steadily at him. “Yes. Absolutely.”
Max’s smile grew even wider for a moment, before it dropped into seriousness. He released her hands, placing one of his delicately on her cheek and the other at the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. He gazed at her, his breathing seeming shallower and faster now. His thumb stroked her face and he began to move his lips towards hers, keeping their eyes locked.
Miranda could only remember being this excited and nervous and energised all at once once before, when they’d almost kissed in Cazador. The blood thundered in her ears and her skin tingled where he was touching her. Her stomach felt tight and she didn’t know what to do with her hands. The breeze ruffled her hair and blew some sand over her foot, but all she was aware of was her and Max. Her world had shrunk to just the two of them and nothing else mattered in that moment. Feeling a little bolder than usual now that she was certain he loved her, she began to move her lips to meet his. She did her best to suppress the anxious thoughts that were worrying at her; too late now to check her breath or apply lip balm.
They both stopped short just before the long-overdue kiss could happen. They wordlessly checked that this was really happening, both of them exchanging small, reassuring smiles, their eyes flicking back and forth in wonder and delight. All of a sudden, they sprang forward and covered the final few centimetres between them, kissing tenderly, and surprisingly confidently for their first time. Neither of them held back, knowing that the other wanted this just as much. The kiss grew more ardent as they both felt the urge to hold each other close and express the depth of their passion. They pressed their bodies together while their hands explored, Max roving over her slim waist and hips, Miranda caressing his strong shoulders, chest and back.
After a few delicious minutes of getting to know one another a lot better, Max pulled Miranda down with him so that they were lying embracing on the sun-warmed blanket. He kissed her deeply, then moved on to his back and lifted her to lie half across him, just like in their cuddle that morning, except that this time Miranda’s hip and leg were hooked over him too and her head was angled to face him. He slipped one hand up inside her shirt and she shivered with pleasure, screwing her eyes shut to really enjoy it. She opened them as Max lovingly kissed her forehead.
“I didn’t get nearly enough of this earlier,” he murmured, circling this thumb over her soft bare skin.
“Me neither,” she whispered back as she slid her fingertips through the gap between his shirt buttons and began stroking his chest. “But we can do this all evening, if you want. Time’s on our side.”