The Boyfriend Sessions (6 page)

“Worse than he sounds,” Scarlett added helpfully.

He laughed. “I must admit, I’m intrigued. And a little scared to ask about Handy Hamish.”

“That settles it. You’re hired,” Cate interrupted.

We all looked at her quizzically.

“Token guy during our sessions.”

I opened my mouth to object, but Scarlett cut me off.

“You’ve got to admit,” Scarlett said, “girls talk endlessly about guys and relive this stuff to no end. Max comes in and has summed up the situation in a few sentences. I think it’s a good idea.”

I looked at Maddy, my last hope. She just shrugged. “Max is my brother. It doesn’t bother me, so long as you’re okay with it. Plus I can talk him into giving us a lift every week.”

Outvoted, I turned my attention to Max. “You should at least have a say in this.”

His brown eyes were friendly, but unreadable. “I can think of worse places to be.”

“Four to one!” Cate wasn’t leaving room for further objection. “Welcome to Christa’s love life, Max,” she concluded, far too happily in my opinion.

Scarlett’s expression was deadpan as she rose to go outside for a cigarette. “I think we’re in for quite a ride.”

The sun was high in the sky when I made my way down to the grassed area nestled between McMahons Point and Blues Point Reserve, overlooking Sydney Harbour. Even as a non-morning person like myself, the weather had enticed me into leaving the house earlier than necessary for my Tuesday boot camp session.

The spring morning was vibrant and surprisingly warm, the sting on my bare arms reminding me that next time I’d do better to apply sunscreen before I left. I’d found a watchful old oak tree to sit under and at first had been distracted by the scene before me. The harbor was magnificent, with a gentle onshore breeze coaxing the brilliant blue of the water into a series of haphazard small white peaks. The bridge was already busy with traffic and the steady hum of trains. Cyclists, walkers and runners were out in full force, taking advantage of the weather.

With some effort, I returned my attention to the sketch I’d been working on. The woman stared back at me with a piercing expression, her dark eyes suggesting secrets of loss and betrayal. Her black hair was long and wavy, and I’d sketched it to snake around her bare shoulders as though possessed by a serpentine demon, giving it a life of its own. She was clutching her ruby cape against a bitter wind and although I had yet to draw it, I could already envision the shadow of an ancient tree and the rich colors of a fire sputtering in defiance behind her.

“Wow.”

I jumped. I’d been so absorbed in what I was doing I hadn’t even noticed the shadow across my legs. Relief quickly followed when I realized it was Max. With a quick glance at my watch, I saw it was only ten minutes to our boot camp class. After my ‘counseling session’ last Thursday, I’d felt kind of strange about having him come to the apartment to escort me, so had messaged him to meet me here.

He edged nearer to me. “Maddy always said you could draw. That’s striking. Would you mind if I took a closer look?”

I stood, sketch book in hand, and eyed him more warily than I’d intended. I couldn’t read his expression behind the reflective Ray Bans he wore, so I could only assume his interest was genuine.

A flicker of a smile crossed his lips. “If you’re not comfortable showing me, it’s alright.”

“No, it’s fine,” I answered, quickly. “You just took me by surprise, that’s all.”

Stiffly I offered him the book and he studied my work in progress in silence. I felt as though it was an examination and found myself rocking nervously from foot to foot.

He went to turn the page, but looked up before going on. “Do you mind?”

It touched me that he’d asked permission. Most people assumed artwork was for public enjoyment and they rarely thought to ask the artist if they were prepared to share their work. Sometimes, however, artists create purely for their own pleasure. These sketches fell into that category. “Of course.”

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d shown anyone my non-work sketches. I’d often leave my books lying around, untidy as I was, so Maddy or Cate would occasionally get a look, but it was never at their request.

After a while, Max blew out a long breath and handed the book back to me. “They’re beyond words, Christa.”

I felt my face color and quickly bent down to stuff the book into backpack. By the time I rose, I was more at ease and we set off toward the meeting point for our boot camp session.

“Have you ever done anything with them?” Max asked casually as we strode along.

“Like pitched them to someone or sold them? No.”

“Can I ask why?”

His question was perfectly logical, but it floored me for a moment. The truth was, I’d never thought to. “Because they’ve always just been for me,” I replied quietly. “If that makes sense.”

“Perfect sense. How do you come up with your ideas?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure. They just come to me.”

It was a vague answer, but it was the best I could do when put on the spot.

It still amazed me that my creations came from my own hand, my own mind. I remained at a loss to describe the process and how it actually occurred. All I knew was that I’d have the seed of something in my mind and when I started to put it to paper, it would take on a life of its own. Rather than try and control it, I’d learned to give it free rein.

“They seem to have a fantasy focus. Are they all like that?”

“Most of them. It was never really intentional, I just found that style of drawing suited me, I guess. More creative license when it’s fantasy.”

We joined the rest of the group assembling at the designated point and set down our backpacks.

“You could make something of them, you know,” Max commented, unzipping his bag and reaching for his towel and water bottle.

“You think I should sell them?” I was well and truly flattered, but couldn’t hide my reservations. “To who?”

“To publishers or authors,” Max replied, matter of fact. “Some of those are right off the cover of a fantasy novel and some would make awesome gaming avatars.”

I blinked. “But how? I don’t know anyone in those industries. And I know you’re sincere, but I don’t even know if they’re good enough.” For the first time ever, I sounded like a precious creative. Ordinarily I wouldn’t be worried in the least about presenting my work or about someone’s opinion, but this work was in a different category altogether—it wasn’t created for some business trying to sell something, it was personal. It was for me.

“Actually, you do know someone.”

I wondered what I was missing. “Who?”

“Me.”

“You? You work in computers. Or something … ” I felt another blush work its way up my neck as I realized I had no idea what I was talking about.

“Something like that.” He seemed content not to elaborate any further and instead grinned at me, the effect more than a little dazzling. “But I’ve got a side project I’m working on, something to do with gaming. And I know I’m not a graphic artist, but I’m telling you, those sketches are something our animators could work with.”

I opened my mouth, then shut it again when our fitness instructor, Brett, turned his attention our way.

“Spencer, time to stop chatting up the pretty blonde and warm up, mate.” His rough English brogue had a few of the other class members glancing in our direction, so I obediently sat down and did the stretches he demonstrated.

Max laughed softly, then joined me. “I’m serious,” he went on quietly, stretching his long olive legs out and effortlessly touching his toes. “I’m a nerd from way back and I can tell you, those illustrations would be a hit on the cover of a fantasy novel or, in my case, in a MMORPG.”

I stopped doing my stretch and gave him a quizzical look.

“Multiplayer online role playing game,” he clarified and although I couldn’t see his eyes, I was sure he was making fun of me.

“Thank God,” I breathed, my turn to receive a quizzical look. I shrugged, a playful grin forming. “There’s still some nerd in there after all. I was beginning to think the Max I grew up with and this Max were two different people.”

“Really?” His tone was a little incredulous.

We stood to grab some hand weights. “I didn’t recognize you at first,” I admitted.

“Come on. Am I that different?”

“I haven’t seen you for about six years, remember.”

We were silent for a while, while we did the series of reps that Brett demonstrated, but Max clearly wasn’t ready to drop the conversation.

“In what ways am I different?”

I dropped my weights and looked at him, deadpan. “You’re at boot camp, Max.”

His loud laugh had Brett raising an eyebrow in our direction. I slipped on the boxing gloves and waited while Max put the pads on his hands.

“Plus, you don’t wear those ridiculous t-shirts anymore,” I mentioned casually, before I pounded his waiting hands.

My focus slipped for a second when I noticed him color slightly at my comment. There was something both comforting and reassuring about Max still being a little on the nerdy side. Sure, he presented better these days, but he wouldn’t be nearly so approachable if he was distracted by his own self-worth. He let me finish my reps then we swapped gear.

“Am I any different?” I asked, curious if he’d noticed any change.

Max pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head and his warm eyes met mine, sending an unexpected jolt down my spine. He smiled, affectionately. “Same old Bubbles, as far as I can tell.”

I sighed. “Apparently that’s the problem if you ask my girlfriends,” I muttered grouchily. “Come on, hit me.”

He laughed again, then got into the rhythm of his reps. I wondered how long he’d been doing this sort of exercise. His hits were judged perfectly, with just the right amount of force behind them—enough to make me work to brace him, but not enough to knock me off my feet.

“When did you get into the whole exercise thing?” I asked when we were finished.

He shrugged. “Years ago now. It was when I was working my way up the ranks of my company. The days were long and sometimes the pressure was intense. I remember taking my Dad’s head off one night when he called to see how I was doing and he told me to get a grip.”

“Oh?” Will Spencer for the most part was a calm man and words like that were rare.

“Yeah. He reminded me I wasn’t curing cancer and it would do me good to have a stress release. Gave me a gym membership to get me started and an appointment with a fitness instructor and I haven’t looked back.”

“It’s sanity saving,” I agreed. At his questioning look, I gave him a grim smile. “Hours upon hours at a computer most days, the last thing I need to do is go home and sit on the lounge. I need to get active.”

We spoke little for the rest of the class as the cardio ramped up. I had to work hard and still felt as though I was pushing against an invisible wall, but was pleased that I managed to keep up. When we finished half an hour later, I happily collapsed next to my backpack and took a long gulp of water.

Max sat down less dramatically beside me and toweled a line of glistening sweat from his forehead. “Busy day ahead?”

I nodded. “First meeting with the potential new client Maddy’s probably told you about.”

“Sounds like it could be big news.”

“We’ve got to win it first.”

“That’s why Maddy brought you on board.”

“I’m sure she’s got longer term plans for me as well, but I hope I can help with this pitch. My part is just one aspect, though.” The account service team had spent hours and late nights finalizing the presentation.

“Well, she’s pretty happy to have you there,” he said, standing.

I ignored my overworked muscles and rose to my feet. “All part of her evil plan for world domination.”

Max laughed. “Too true. Maddy has asked me to pick you up from work on Thursday so we can all go back to your place for dinner. Is that alright with you?”

I frowned. My next counseling session. I’d tried hard to forget about it.

“If you don’t want me there … ” Max began.

I looked at him skeptically. “Oh come on. You’re just dying to hear all about Handy Hamish.”

Despite his attempt to remain straight-faced, he broke out into a broad smile. “You got me.”

“It’s fine,” I said, adjusting my backpack and setting off up the hill. “It’s not a bad idea to have a male point of view.”

Max fell into step beside me. “I’m serious, Christa. If you’d prefer I wasn’t there … ”

For reasons I couldn’t explain, the idea of not having him there was worse than the potential awkwardness of him sitting in on the sessions. “It’s alright,” I reassured him. “You’ve known me almost as long as Maddy and I’ve got nothing to hide.”

“Nothing?”

I couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses, but I was sure they taunted me.

I grinned wickedly. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Stick around long enough and you might learn all my dirty little secrets.”

“Is that a promise?” He sounded hopeful.

I laughed loudly and we continued walking up the gradual hill toward North Sydney station in companionable silence. I couldn’t remember Max being such good company before.

“How come we never talked like this when we were growing up?”

He stiffened a bit and I wondered what I’d said.

“How do you mean?” he replied quietly.

“Well, you were always there in the background, but I guess I just don’t remember talking to you much, that’s all.”

He shrugged. “I’m about seven years older, remember?”

“Yes, but most guys I know would be hanging around to check out their sister’s hot girlfriends,” I barreled on, then clamped a hand over my mouth. “I didn’t mean—”

Max stopped walking and turned to grin at me. “What? That you’re hot?”

“No. Well, actually I hope so, but oh …
no
! No, I didn’t mean I was hoping you found me hot, I just meant that guys in general might find teenage girls hot … you know what? I’m going to be quiet now.” I smiled sheepishly at him.

He laughed, those laughter lines doing curious things to my stomach again. “Perhaps I was just shy. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to you.”

It seemed strange, but this had never occurred to me before. “Shy? But why? I was like the furniture at your place.”

We started walking up the hill again, the clean lines of the office buildings in North Sydney looming ahead.

“Yeah, but you were also incredibly articulate and going through a really difficult time in your life. I was good at maths and science, but not so good at conversation. I didn’t want to say anything to upset you so, generally, I steered clear.”

“Typical guy reaction. Surely I wasn’t that fragile.”

“Fragile isn’t the right word. You just took everything to heart when you were sixteen.”

That was true. “So I was emotional, is that what you’re saying? Gosh, what is it with guys not being able to cope with emotion?” Suddenly Ben’s displays of affection didn’t seem so annoying after all, but I could be perverse like that.

“I can cope with emotion,” Max replied, a little defensively. “It’s just when you put emotional and female together it can get scary.”

“But you grew up with two sisters!”

“Who are hardly the emotional type,” he said.

He had a good point there. Both Maddy and Louise were self-possessed and not at all typical in that sense. “I must have scared the shit out of you,” I concluded.