At the Right Time

Chapter Six

Maxwell ~ Present

She's fucking gorgeous. That's no surprise. Rylie has always been attractive. Now, though, she's all woman. No longer the teenage girl I knew who looked at me like I had stars in my eyes.

I can feel her cold shoulder, and it makes my muscles tense. I know she doesn't want to be here.

She sits across the table, with her big jade-colored eyes not daring to look in my direction. Her hair has gotten longer, and falls past her breasts now and the freckles that dot her upper cheeks and nose have faded a little, which makes me sad.

My dad is carrying on conversation with everyone, carefully avoiding too much NBA talk, thankfully. I think he can sense that I don't want to talk about it.

That being said, I'd rather talk about my major game seven fuck-up than Rylie's boyfriend, and that's the topic we're on instead.

Brian. Hot-shot lawyer who handles more traffic cases than real crimes, but thinks he knows everything.

Yes, I've done my research. Sue me.

There have been a few times that the late-night curiosity got the best of me.

When I found out she was dating him I almost flew back home and tried to win her over, but it would've done no good.

I have no right to be upset about who she chooses to spend her time with. I have no claim on her, and she's got no reason to be mine.

I know she hates me. She should.

But still, I can't help but wonder if she loves him like she once loved me. If she laughs at his jokes like she used to laugh at mine. If her lips kiss him in the same way they...

I force myself out of my thoughts, feeling myself already getting aroused at the thought of Rylie and those lips. Fuck, I miss them. I miss her.

"So," I start a new conversation, not caring about the abrupt change in subject. "I'm buying a penthouse out here for when I come to visit."

"Does that mean you'll be coming back more often?" My mom clasps her hands together, looking so excited that it makes me feel guilty for avoiding this place like the plague the last few years.

It hurt too much to be in this city, I just couldn't do it.

"Yeah, mom." I admit, chuckling a little. "I plan on coming home more."

I don't miss the way Rylie shifts in her seat and reaches immediately for her wine.

"Are you okay, Max?" Rachel raises an eyebrow, "If you aren't careful people are going to start thinking you like us or something."

"Damn, you're right." I tease, "I wouldn't want that."

"Do you have any places in mind?"

"I have a penthouse already lined up. That's where I will be staying, but I need help decorating it."

I could easily pay anyone to decorate my apartment for me. Hell, I could do it myself. It isn't like I care as long as it isn't tacky.

But that wouldn't work with my plan. Because I happen to know someone who went to school for interior design, and she's staring at me with wide-eyes and a pale face.

"That's easy!" My mom is taking too much delight in this, completely unaware that there's apprehension between Rylie and I. "Rylie, you could help him, right?"

"Oh. Uh." She sips her wine. "Actually, Mrs. Rossi, I can't. Well, I mean. I'm busy at the bar and with... I probably can't. No." She clears her throat, her cheeks turning pink. "I can't, Maxwell. Sorry."

"I'll pay you." I offer, having already figured she'd turn it down the first time. "How about ten thousand for the entire project? I can do half up front and half when you're done."

"Ten thousand?" Rachel's eyes almost pop out of her head. "Shit, bro. I'll decorate your apartment for ten grand."

"Well?" I prompt Rylie.

"I- uh, no. I don't think I can." She looks down, staring at her plate that she's barely ate off of. I can sense the wheels turning in her pretty head, so I wait a moment. "I need the experience." She says, more to herself than anyone of us. "If I do it— it'd be my first job."

"Yes! I think you should, Rylie." Rachel encourages her. Rachel knows more about Rylie and I's history than anyone. She also knows the real reason I'm back in Atlanta. "You need a portfolio and this will give you big credentials."

"Um... I still want to work at the bar."

"Okay." I nod.

"I, um... I guess I can do it, then."

Her green eyes gaze up at me, and I can sense the apprehension in them.

"Sounds good. Meet me there tomorrow morning at eight, okay?"

Rylie nods, and I sit back in my seat trying not to pump my fist into the air.

Step one is complete. Now I just have to figure out how the hell I'm going to get the rest done.