The Boyfriend Sessions (12 page)

Thursday morning dawned bright and I was at our boot camp meeting point with plenty of time to spare. I had my portfolio tucked securely into my bag and I was a bundle of nerves. Even without coffee, I bounced lightly on the spot—in an attempt to warm up or provide some release for the nervousness pulsing through my body, I wasn’t entirely sure.

This would be the first time I’d taken someone through my personal sketches.
It’s just as well it’s somebody you know then, isn’t it?
my subconscious refuted reasonably.

While I appreciated the point, it did nothing to calm me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the reflection of a car glinting sharply from the parking area up the hill. Squinting, I made out the familiar form of the dark blue Porsche as it backed fluidly into a parking spot. I watched as the roof appeared from its hidden compartment and extended until it locked securely into place. A moment later, Max extracted his tall, athletic frame from the driver’s seat and walked gracefully down the hill toward me.

I tore my eyes away from him and gave a quick smile to a few of the other regulars gathered around the meeting spot. Although my back was to him, my thoughts lingered on his broad-shouldered form. How had I never noticed Max before?

I cast my mind back to my high school days and placed myself in Maddy’s house with him, but all I could conjure up was a hazy picture of a young man with a mass of unruly dark curls and thin, silver wire-framed glasses. If he’d been so tall and mesmerizing back then, he’d hid it well.

Or hid out in his room a lot, I realized. That must be part of it. He’d rarely joined us at the dinner table when I was at Maddy’s and had often been studying from what I could recall. When we were in high school, he was completing his university studies, while we were more distracted with boys and well … boys.

A pair of large hands rested firmly on my shoulders, making me jump.

I whirled around, my heart racing.

Max offered me a wide, relaxed grin. “Still in one piece? No bites taken out of you?”

“What?” I couldn’t see his eyes. Those damn Ray Bans covered them again and his smile was distracting. It took me a moment to understand he was referring to my introduction to Sasha, the cheetah at Oz Zoo. “Oh, no. Still intact. I think she prefers more of a challenge when it comes to her prey.”

Max shrugged easily before dropping his bag to the ground beside him. “She obviously has no taste then.”

I didn’t have an answer for that. It was just banter, but the way his shoulder muscles moved beneath his t-shirt as he reached into his backpack had me biting my tongue to avoid asking aloud what
his
taste would be.

What was I thinking?
Maddy’s brother, Maddy’s brother,
my subconscious spat at me, disgusted. I averted my eyes and sought out my water bottle and towel in my bag.

“You okay this morning? You seem quiet?”

I looked at him sharply and noted his brow endearingly furrowed in concern.
Just deranged, nothing unusual.
Instead I managed, “In need of coffee, that’s all.”

“If you can last the session, I’m going to take you to my favorite breakfast spot and they serve seriously good coffee.”

“I’ll do my best.” I smiled tightly and received another questioning look in return, but fortunately it wasn’t long-lived because Brett bellowed at us to get our shit together and start our exercises.

We fell into routine easily. Blissfully, Max let me concentrate on my reps and didn’t try for further conversation, which I was grateful for. I allowed myself to relax and soon I was in that endorphin induced state where my focus was primarily on the physical and thoughts came and went effortlessly.

By the end of the session I was happily exhausted, my muscles tingling from the exertion. Thankfully my mind seemed clear of the cobwebs that plagued me at the start. I took a long sip from my water bottle and eyed Max as I did so.

He must have felt my gaze on him. “Ready for that caffeine shot?”

“Absolutely.”

He indicated for me to follow him up the hill, so I gathered my things and secured my backpack.

“Busy week?” I asked, inwardly happy my ability for small talk was restored.

“Pretty intense,” he admitted. “Lots of projects coming to fruition, all at the same time, but it can’t be helped.”

“Interesting projects?”

“Interested?” He glanced at me sideways, curious.

“Yes, of course. Just keep it to plain English, none of that computer geek garble.”

He laughed. “Alright. Well, we’ve got a big media client and their new website is about to go live. It’s a first of its kind in terms of interactivity and digital services. We’re just ironing out the wrinkles now, making sure it’s not going to crash, that sort of thing.”

“Is it easy for a website to crash?” That was probably Internet 101 for all I knew.

“If it’s not backed by a decent server, absolutely. In this case, that’s not the issue. It’s more about whether it will be able to handle high traffic.”

“Like when people are visiting the website?”

“Exactly. Imagine a television show where the call-to-action is to get online and vote, so half of Australia decides they all want to do it at the same time. A lot of sites aren’t set up for that sort of traffic.”

“Or when you get online to buy tickets to a concert and the website freezes up. That’s so annoying.”

“Spot on. We can’t have our client’s viewers annoyed. If we can’t deliver the response times and bandwidth, they’ll take their contract somewhere else.”

“That must be quite stressful.” It hadn’t occurred to me before, the complexity of the technical aspects behind the digital environment we so frequently lived in and depended upon. “God, imagine if we were all just clueless artists like me, nothing would ever happen.”

“It’s a team effort,” he replied diplomatically. “Without the creative, you don’t have vision. But the technical types can come in handy now and then.”

We’d reached his Porsche and he gave me a quick grin, as though he couldn’t help himself. “We’re just used to letting the creative egomaniacs take all the credit while we work tirelessly in the background.”

I gave him a mock withering look and his response was to unlock the doors and open the passenger door gallantly.

“Thanks,” I said quickly, before slipping onto the tan leather seat.

He shut the door firmly for me, then went around to the driver’s side. As he settled himself into the seat beside me, he sent me a questioning glance. “Roof down?”

“Is that even a question?

My incredulous tone had him laughing and I allowed myself to enjoy the warmth of it as it filled the car.

He hit the button and I watched contentedly as blue sky expanded gloriously in all directions and the sun streamed in to warm my bare legs.

Max reached across me and opened the glove box. I forced my breathing to remain steady at his proximity and the warm, spicy scent of him.

“Hat? Sunscreen?” he asked, oblivious to the effect he was having.

“That would be great.”

He handed me a black cap with what must have been the logo of his company embroidered on the front. I threaded my pony tail through the back and made sure it was secured tightly, recalling Maddy’s earlier derision at his driving techniques.

The engine purred happily, then roared as he made a quick U-turn and sped up the street. The speed, the wind, the sunshine, the world whipping past us—it was a heady combination.

“This has the makings of some pretty serious stress relief,” I yelled above the hum of the engine.

“Tell me about it. Hold onto your hat.”

Before I could even lift a hand to my head, he dropped it down a gear and darted onto the express way. I didn’t bother to clamp down on the squeal bubbling in my throat and Max laughed at my very female response.

“If I’m scaring you, just tell me and I’ll tone it down a bit. I just like to piss Maddy off when she’s in the car with me.”

“Not the response you’re aiming for with your other passengers?”

We’d hit the peak hour Harbour Bridge traffic and he darted into a gap in the lane next to us, then eased up and joined the flow of early morning traffic.

“I prefer quiet exhilaration rather than terrifying people,” he confirmed.

“What about when you’re on the race track?” I asked.

He looked over at me quickly before returning his focus to the line of traffic in front. “Usually I don’t have passengers, but despite what my sister says, your biggest focus on the track is keeping everything fluid and smooth.”

“Why is that?”

“The smoother you are, the faster you go.”

“Ah, I should have known,” I teased.

“I won’t deny it’s nice when you get a great lap time, but it just feels better when you do a smooth lap. There’s something poetic about it.”

“You’ll have to show me sometime.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

The traffic had stopped, and Max braked quickly then turned to face me. “Really?”

“Only if the opportunity comes up,” I replied. I hadn’t meant to suggest it, but I was really enjoying being in the car with him and was curious to experience the poetry of it, as he put it.

“There’s an open track day at Eastern Creek later this month. The only hitch is I can’t passenger you in the car with me around the track. I don’t have the CAMS license for that.”

“CAMS license?”

“Yeah, the Australian Motorsport Confederation. I only have a standard license, so I’m not allowed to take you around the track with me for safety reasons.”

“Oh. Well, don’t worry about it then, it was just an idea.” Although I was strangely disappointed. The idea of breezing around a race track with Max at the wheel was a nice daydream.

“Or you could bring your own car and give it a go.”

He’d barely finished the sentence before I erupted into a fit of laughter.

“Just an idea … ”

I really didn’t know where to start. Living so close to the city, I opted for public transport, so my driving skills were usually only exercised on short weekend journeys. And while I’d learnt on a manual, these days I drove an auto and I figured this wasn’t the preferred choice for the race track. Critically, I had a feeling my car wouldn’t be up to the job.

“I drive a 1.5 liter auto Toyota Corolla. Enough said?” I informed him once my giggles had subsided.

“Right.” He looked deflated, then flicked on the stereo. The sounds of Coldplay’s
Paradise
filled the car, creating a soundtrack to the magnificent view of Sydney Harbour as it stretched out beside us. I watched the boats slicing through the azure water, glittering gold where the sun hit the surface. I loved Coldplay and I particularly loved this song.

After a couple of verses, Max interrupted my thoughts, his voice soft. “Are you like the girl in this song? Dreaming of paradise when you create your sketches?”

“I—” I didn’t know what to say, his question had caught me off guard.

“Sorry, that was probably out of left field.”

I considered his question as we neared the automated toll booth. Only when we’d made our way through and the e-tag secured to his windscreen had beeped, did I manage to formulate my response.

“My sketches aren’t trying to create paradise. But I do still feel like I’m the little girl who discovered paradise when she realized she could create her own world on paper.”

“That’s why they’re so magical.”

I felt my face flush. I resisted the urge to ask,
do you think so?
Instead I opted for the mature response. “Thanks.”

“I can’t wait to see them.”

He veered the car left after the toll booths and took the road that led down to George Street and The Rocks area of the city. “It’s easiest if I just park the car in my building, then we’ll walk over.”

“Sure.” A sudden thought occurred to me. “Do I need to get changed?”

From behind his glasses, Max cast a long look at my singlet top and leggings, which unnerved me. “You’re fine. But I’ll save the fancy restaurant for another time, if that’s alright with you.”

It was all said lightly, but my mind didn’t fail to analyze the words. Another time?
Christa Morrison, get a grip
, I told myself in disgust.
Maddy’s brother, Maddy’s brother,
I repeated in silent monotone in my head.

“Good to go?”

We parked under one of the office buildings located down The Rocks end of George Street, where Max had a car spot. Nice. Reserved parking in Sydney city was worth a small fortune.

I grabbed my backpack and followed him to the lifts. Moments later, we arrived in the stark, minimalist foyer of an office building. It could have been the foyer of any office building in the city, except when we stepped outside we were only meters from Circular Quay and the harbor.

The terminal at Circular Quay buzzed with the morning commuter rush, and the yellow and green Sydney ferries worked at dropping off and picking up passengers. Above the gushing sound of water as one of the ferries backed away from the terminal came the staccato rhythm of the nearby train as it passed overhead.

Before we could reach the set of pedestrian lights to cross to the harbor side of the Quay, Max grabbed my hand and tugged me over to our left. He let go as we entered the doorway of an unassuming cafe, leaving my hand tingling from the contact. He waved to a guy behind the counter who appeared to recognize him and led me to a small table situated at the front of the small floor space, overlooking the Quay.

“It doesn’t look like anything special, but they do fantastic breakfasts and charge half the price of all the tourist cafes across the road.”

He was right. The tables were small, black and stainless with matching black plastic chairs, but the aroma of bacon and eggs and what smelled like cinnamon filling the tiny space was enough to convince me.

“Order first and then we’ll talk.” He pushed a menu my way and I groaned when I saw the selection.

“Are you trying to commit me to boot camp for the next six months?”

He slipped his Ray Bans onto his head and his warm brown eyes twinkled. “It’s worth it, trust me.”