Page 77 of Maxim

“I’m not that good,” I tell her.

“Please, you’ve picked it up in a matter of minutes. You have a really good start to a blanket.” She indicates my little project that I’m actually quite proud of.

“We can try something else,” I offer.

“We will, but that’s not what I want to talk about.”

I turn toward her, giving her my full attention. “And what is it you want to talk about? Oh, let me guess, how you think the dark-haired guy on the cop show is hotter than the blond?”

The other day we stumbled upon a cop show with two dudes who are partners on the force. The way they talk to each other and, well, banter, pulls you in.

“First off, he is without a question the hotter of the pair, but no. I want to talk about the look that you and Maxim shared before he left this morning.”

I feel my cheeks heat, and I look away from her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Thea scoffs. “Please, that man looked like he wanted to eat you for breakfast, and you looked like all you wanted to do was devour his face.”

“I’m not into cannibalism,” I deadpan, making her roll her eyes.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Now spill, girlfriend.”

It would be nice to have someone to talk to. Someone to confide in. Thea is nice and has been patient with me since we met and is the closest thing to a friend I’ve ever had. Surely she won’t assume the worst, right? Assume that Maxim is taking advantage of the situation?

“If you don’t want to, it’s fine, but I’m here if you want,” she says gently.

“No, I want to tell you, but I don’t want you to judge Maxim.”

Her eyes narrow. “Did he hurt you? Did he make you do something you didn’t want to do?”

I roll my eyes. “No, of course not.”

“Then I won’t judge. Remember Alexei and I started out kind of like you and Maxim.”

True, I never thought about that.

“I like him. Like a lot,” I confess quietly.

“Yeah? Does he know?” she asks with zero judgment.

I nod. “I told him last night.”

“What did he say?”

“That he was worried about me only liking him because he saved me or something like that.”

“Ah, he’s worried about Stockholm syndrome. Alexei tried to pull the same shit on me.”

“Yes, that.” I snap my fingers and point at her. “I told him that it was ridiculous because if I was going to have stock whatever syndrome, it would have been with Szymon, who’s one of my father’s soldiers. That man was obsessed with me, but I never once thought about what it would be like to kiss him.”

The corner of her mouth tips up. “How did he take that?”

“He said he was willing to give it a shot. Said that he also has feelings for me and that he wants to go at my pace. That I make the moves.”

“How noble,” she teases. “That’s a good thing, though, right? It’s what you want?”

“It is, but I’ve never…”

“Ah, you don’t know how to tell him what you want or even know what it is you want.”