Heart Over Heels

Chapter 4

I hesitated, glancing at my phone for what felt like the hundredth time. The screen lit up with notifications from the reunion group chat, a stark reminder of the event I’d abruptly left behind. The anxiety of facing my old friends and the pressure to fit into a mold I’d outgrown loomed over me like a dark cloud.

“I should not have left the reunion...” I murmured, scrolling through messages filled with nervousness and nostalgia.

But Max’s infectious energy was impossible to resist. He leaned forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Come on! What’s the worst that could happen? You might just had the time of your life!”

I raised an eyebrow, contemplating the consequences of staying away. "Oh, I can think of a few things. Jack and Sophie must be worried about me."

He chuckled, his laughter warm and inviting. "That's exactly why you need this break! You’re going to drive yourself mad worrying about what everyone thinks. Just let loose for once! And don’t worry—I texted your boyfriend to let him know you’re safe with me.”

“What?” I stammered, caught off guard. “Boyfriend? What are you talking about? I don’t have a—”

He smirked, shrugging. “Oh, my mistake. But that’s a relief, right?”

I blinked, half-flustered, and half-amused. “Ugh, I’m not his girlfriend, you know.”

“Good to know!” he said with a wink, ignoring my bewilderment. “So, how about we make this day even better?”

Before I could answer, he gestured to my dress with a teasing smile. “We need to get you out of that formal wear. Something fun. Something that says, ‘I’m here to live a little!’”

I looked down at my sleek black dress. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I protested.

“Everything,” he said, calmly yet confidently, his gaze lingering. “This dress is way too serious. We’re getting you something that screams fun.”

For a moment, I just stared at him—cool, collected, sexy as ever. It was impossible to say no.

---

The drive to the thrift store was a blur of music and laughter. Max turned up the volume, belting out pop anthems off-key while I giggled from the passenger seat. For a while, I forgot about the reunion and the expectations I’d left behind.

At the thrift store, he dove into the clothing racks with an excitement that was downright contagious. “We’re looking for something that says, ‘I’m here for a good time!’” he declared.

I held up a sequined top, raising an eyebrow. “How about this? It says something, but I’m not sure it’s good.”

“Nope! Too flashy. We need something fun but effortlessly charming,” he said, rummaging with determination. After a few minutes, he pulled out a soft, flowy sundress covered in tiny daisies. “This! This is it.”

I laughed, holding it up against myself in the mirror. It was cute, light, and perfect for a summer day. “Alright, alright. You win. I’ll try it.”

As I slipped into the dressing room, I caught my reflection in the mirror. There was a hint of a smile playing on my lips—a trace of excitement I hadn't felt in a long time. I put on the dress and twirled, feeling the fabric flutter around me. It wasn’t just the change of clothes; it was the change in me. For the first time in forever, I felt like I was choosing to live in the moment.

I stepped out, and his eyes widened in exaggerated appreciation. “See? I told you it would suit you. You look... carefree.”

“Carefree, huh?” I teased, though I felt a blush rising on my cheeks. There was something about the way he looked at me, like he saw through all the layers I tried to hide behind.
"Okay, let's get it and get changed into this one for now, handling over me another piece of clothes" he said.

But..,why do we need to two of them? Shh just get them, okay. He ordered halting me.
___

As we drove back towards my apartment, the conversation flowed easily, punctuated with laughter and shared stories. We talked about everything—our school days, mutual friends, embarrassing moments, and the paths we’d each taken. Time seemed to slip away as the sun dipped below the horizon.

At one point, I brought up his fashion expertise again, teasing him about his sudden transformation into my personal stylist.

“Seriously, Max,” I said, my voice light, “where did you pick up those fashion tips? Is there a secret side to you I don’t know about?”

He chuckled, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. “What can I say? I guess I have layers. Running a business taught me that sometimes, you need to make a statement without saying a word.”

“Layers, huh?” I echoed, smirking. “You’re not the same Max I remember from school. The confident guy who always had a crowd around him.”

His expression softened. “Maybe not. Life has a way of changing you, you know? I’ve learned a lot since then... about people, about myself.”

I nodded, feeling a surge of understanding. “I get that. Writing does the same thing to me. It forces you to dig deep, even when you don’t want to.”

Our conversation took on a quieter, more reflective tone as the city lights flickered to life around us. There was a vulnerability in the way we spoke now, a sense that we were both laying down our masks.

---

We pulled up to my apartment, and I reached for the door handle, feeling an unexpected pang of reluctance to end the evening. But as I moved to step out of the car, Max reached out and gently grabbed my wrist.

“Wait,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto mine. “You forgot something.”

I looked down, confused. “What?”

Max leaned back, reached for my discarded heels in the back seat, and kneeled in front of me. Without a word, he took my ankle and fit one heel onto my foot, then the other, with a gentleman’s care. The simple gesture sent warmth flooding through me, and my heart skipped a beat.

“Perfect,” he said with a smile, his face just inches from mine. The moment felt frozen, the night air cool and electric.

"Here you go cindrella," he said smiling.

Heat rose to my cheeks, and I looked away, suddenly shy. “Thank you... for everything.”

He stood up, brushing off his hands casually. “No problem. A gentleman’s duty,” he teased, but his voice was softer, gentler.

We stood there for a moment, the air between us charged with an unspoken possibility. I handed him my number, my fingers barely shaking as I typed it into his phone. “Alright,” I said, trying to regain my composure, “but I still owe you a Thanksgiving dinner after all this.”

“Deal,” I said, his eyes twinkling. “And hey, don’t be a stranger, alright? Let’s keep in touch.”

“I promise,” I said, a soft smile playing on my lips.

As I walked up the steps to my apartment, I felt the weight I’d been carrying for weeks began to slip away. I looked back one last time to see him still watching me, leaning casually against his car with that same easy smile.

For a moment, it felt like we were standing at the edge of something new—a reconnection, a fresh start. Whatever it was, I was grateful. I waved, and he waved back before sliding into his car and driving off into the night.

                   ★★★

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