The Bucket List Boyfriend (Boston Love #3)

Chapter 9

Max

IF UNCLE Reggie weren’t already dead, I’d kill him.

I set up the salsa lesson at the dance place specified on the bucket list. It was going to be one and done. Even though I admittedly have two left feet, I thought it wasn’t going to be too bad. I can get through one salsa lesson.

Well, color me surprised when I booked the lesson and discovered that Uncle Reggie’s salsa lessons on the bucket list come with terms and conditions.

Which is what I’m trying to explain to Maya after work on Monday, shortly before we need to leave for the lesson.

“What do you mean a competition?” Maya asks.

She’s sitting on the floor of my home gym eating a burger and fries while I run on my treadmill trying to get a quick workout in before we need to leave.

I shake my head in wonder. Only Maya could eat as much junk as she does and stay in such great shape.

The ridiculous thing is that even with a stomach full of burger and fries, she’d probably still be able to get up and run a marathon without breaking a sweat.

“I mean, Uncle Reggie was a sneaky old man. We’re only required to go to one lesson, but we also have to enter a beginners’ salsa competition,” I explain.

A grin slowly spreads across Maya’s face.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“Because I’m trying to imagine you on the dance floor in front of a crowd. This is something I can’t wait to see. You barely even danced at your senior prom!”

“That’s because Hazel Sandberg tried to grab my butt on the dance floor! I noped right out of there.”

Maya laughs so hard she has to put her burger down and wipe her eyes.

“Oh yes. Handsy Hazel. How could I forget? Remind me why you took her to prom again?”

I give Maya a withering look and reduce my speed.

“Because you were dating Trevor Sandberg and you told me that his sister had been stood up at her last dance, and then her dog died. You made me feel bad for her!”

Maya manages to get her giggles under control to reply.

“But I didn’t say you had to invite her. I just suggested that she deserved to have a fun night with a nice guy.”

“Yeah, well, she wanted a little bit too much fun,” I grumble as the treadmill slows to a stop and I hop off. “I’m still not over the trauma.”

At that somewhat exaggerated statement Maya bursts out laughing again. She’s laughing so hard she actually topples right over. It’s a good thing she’d already put her half-eaten burger down.

I put my hands on my hips and look down at her sprawled out on the floor. Even when she’s laughing at my expense, she’s still the most beautiful girl in the world.

“You done?” I ask with a raised brow and reach out a hand to pull her up.

She bites her lip to get herself under control as I pull her up, but there’s still a mischievous glint in her eye as we end up face to face.

“If I promise not to grab your butt, will you try to enjoy our salsa lesson…and the competition?”

Maya might be frightened if she knew just how much I do want her to grab my butt.

Her warm hand is still in mine and she’s close enough that I can smell her strawberry shampoo.

I don’t miss the way her eyes dart to my lips for a second. And I didn’t miss the way her eyes were running over my shirtless chest when she first walked into the room.

Maybe there is something there, or maybe not. All I know is that she’s not completely unaffected.

And if there is any hope of Maya falling in love with me, I have to use these things to my advantage.

As scary as it is, I need to kick this up just a notch.

Knowing that, I tug her hand so that she’s pulled right against my sweaty body and my lips are at her ear.

I can hear her breath catch.

“Maya, if you wear a dress anything like the red one you wore to prom that night, it’s my hands you’re going to have to worry about.”

And then I walk out the room to go shower, leaving an open-mouthed, wide-eyed Maya behind.

The salsa music fills the room, pulsing with energy I wish I could channel into my feet. I’m supposed to be leading, but right now, I’m more like an awkward marionette with tangled strings. And we’re only on the basic forward back steps.

The instructor, an Argentinean man named Javier, is gliding across the floor in his shiny pointed shoes like it’s nothing, his feet moving so smoothly it looks like he oiled the floor. Meanwhile, I’m over here trying not to step on Maya’s toes. Again.

“Max, my friend, you have the rhythm of an enthusiastic penguin!” Javier jokes, throwing his head back in a dramatic laugh.

Maya snorts, and I can’t help but smile too, despite my embarrassment. I know he’s right; my legs aren’t exactly cooperating.

“Maya happens to quite like penguins,” I say.

Maya giggles, and the sound is worth every awkward misstep. Her laughter is like a little victory, even if my dancing isn’t.

Javier brushes Maya to one side and grabs me by the hips, startling me. I turn wide eyes toward Maya as Javier tries to wiggle my hips.

“It’s all in the hips Max, the hips. As you change the weight from foot to foot,” he bends slightly and focuses intently on the movement he’s forcing into my hips, “ feel the rhythm in your hips.”

His face is getting way too close to my crotch for my liking.

Maya’s shoulders shake and she purses her lips trying to keep it together while I’m being manhandled by a very enthusiastic Javier.

Javier claps his hands, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Okay, chicos, let’s try it again. Remember, it’s all about feeling the music in your soul.” He presses a hand to his chest, closing his eyes as if channeling some inner salsa god.

I glance at Maya, who’s still barely holding it together. Her eyes sparkle with amusement, and her lips are curved into that smile that always makes me forget why I’m nervous in the first place.

I take her hand, and pull her closer to me, thinking I could get used to the feel of her hand in mine.

The music starts again, and I step forward, trying to mimic Javier’s effortless swing of the hips.

Left foot, right foot—wait, that’s not right.

Maya lets out a small yelp as I almost trip over my own feet. “Sorry!” I say quickly, trying to correct myself.

We’re both laughing now, stumbling through the steps. Well, I’m stumbling. Maya’s just being pulled along for the ride.

“You know, I think we might win at being the worst dancers in the competition,” Maya teases, her voice light and playful.

“That will be a new experience for you, being the worst at something,” I reply, grinning.

“Not really. I don’t think I’ve ever beaten you at a game of rummy. Or chess.”

“Is that so? Then we should definitely play chess more often.”

Maya giggles and I continue to push and pull at her in my sorry attempt to salsa.

Javier glides over to us, shaking his head with an exaggerated sigh. “Max, Max, Max…you must relax. Let the music guide you, not the other way around.”

He takes my shoulders and gently shakes them, like he’s trying to loosen up a mannequin.

I nod, trying to take his advice to heart. But when the music starts again, I’m back to my clumsy two-step, more focused on not messing up than actually enjoying myself.

Maya, ever the graceful one, squeezes my hand encouragingly and tries to match my uneven pace, her patience shining through as she doesn’t miss a beat.

Looking into her blue eyes, I lose my train of thought, and that seems to be the key because for a few brief moments it actually feels like we’re dancing, not just flailing around.

Javier gives us an approving nod, clapping his hands.

“Yes, Max! Now you’re matching the energy of your partner. That’s the spirit, amigos! Keep going.”

And then I step on her toes again.

Maya catches my eye and beams at me, and I can’t help but smile back.

Even if I’m still a bit of a disaster, it doesn’t matter. We’re having fun, and that’s all that counts.

After an hour of dancing together, Javier suggests we change partners. I’d like to think he just wants to give Maya the chance to dance with a more experienced partner, but one look at him spinning her with effortless grace while his eyes linger on her beautiful face, makes me think he’s enjoying this a bit too much.

Why do Latino men have to be so suave?

Javier’s hand rests confidently on Maya’s lower back as he guides her through each step. My heart thuds in my chest as I watch the way they move together—it’s mesmerizing.

“Pay attention, Max.” My new partner’s voice draws my attention back to her.

Camila is one of the other dance instructors here and she’s looking very determined.

I need to get my head back in the game.

After ten minutes of guidance from her, I’m already dancing much better. I’ve got the forward-back movement memorized pretty well. And I don’t even feel like I’m about to dislocate a hip anymore.

We’re still working on the turns when the two-hour lesson comes to an end.

Javier claps his hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Remember, the competition is in two weeks, kicking off the Boston Salsa Festival. Take a flier on your way out. It has all the information you need on dress code and the time the beginner competition starts. We’ll see you all there.”

“That was fun, Max.” Maya slides up next to me and gives me a hug. “And by the end you were looking pretty steady on your feet.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I’m not sure I’d go quite that far. Let’s say, I was embarrassing myself a little less than when I started out. You ready to go?”

Just before we exit the building I have an idea.

“Wait here a sec. I just want to chat to Javier quickly.”

I leave her in the foyer area and race back into the large room where the dance lessons take place.

“Javier.”

“Max. Did you leave something behind?”

“No, I was just wondering if I could sign up for some one-on-one lessons. I’d like to pack in as many salsa lessons as I can before the competition.”

Javier gives me a knowing look and hands me a business card.

“Ah. Want to impress your lady?”

“I just think she deserves to have a partner who knows what they’re doing,” I say quietly.

Javier nods solemnly and pats my shoulder.

“Don’t worry Max. We’ll turn you into a dancer.”

I hope he can work miracles because he only has two weeks.

When I return, Maya is looking out the glass doors at the rain that’s bucketing down. It seems to have come out of nowhere.

“Oh dear. Pity we didn’t park closer. We’re going to have to make a run for it.”

Why didn’t I check the weather forecast? I’m normally much better prepared for these things.

It’s bucketing down, thick sheets of rain that make it impossible to see much beyond a few feet ahead.

Without thinking, I slip off my jacket and hold it above Maya’s head. “Here, take this.”

She grins at me, that lopsided smile that always manages to scramble my thoughts, and grabs the jacket with one hand.

I grab her other hand, and before I can think too hard about it, we’re running down the wet, bustling Boston street, dodging puddles and splashes from passing cars.

By the time we reach the car, we’re both soaked to the bone, my jacket having done nothing to stop the rain.

We stop beside the car, laughing breathlessly as water drips from our hair and clothes.

“I don’t think your jacket helped much,” Maya teases, holding it out, drenched.

Little rivulets of water run down her face.

“Yeah, I’m starting to realize that.” I laugh, trying to catch my breath.

But then, something shifts in the air between us.

The laughter fades, and I can feel the warmth of her hand still in mine. The rain keeps falling, but everything else seems to still.

Her eyes meet mine, and for a second, I forget about the downpour, about the soaked clothes, about everything.

She’s so close, that even with my droplet-covered glasses, I can see the tiny drops of rain catching on her eyelashes, and her flushed cheeks—whether from the run or something else, I’m not sure.

Maya’s eyes trace a drop of water down my face and to my lips and she bites on her own lip.

Standing here in the rain, soaking wet, I’ve never wanted to kiss her more.

My heart pounds and I can feel the pull, that magnetic tension that’s been building for so long.

There’s definitely something going on here.

If I think about this too much I’m going to chicken out, so before I can overthink things, I start to lean closer, my pulse racing as the space between us closes.

I can see a moment of confusion in Maya’s eyes before her expression changes and she puts a hand on my chest, giving me all the encouragement I need.

But just as our faces are inches apart, a car horn blares, startling both of us.

We jump apart, the moment shattered.

Maya chuckles nervously, and I rub the back of my neck, trying to play it cool, but my heart’s still racing for a whole different reason now.

“Hmm. We’d better get home before you catch a cold,” I say as I open the door for her.

As we slide into the car, I catch her stealing glances at me, her cheeks still pink and I can feel the weight of what almost happened, hanging in the air between us, unspoken but undeniable.

I suddenly feel on top of the world. Because even though I didn’t get to kiss the girl, if there’s one thing this little incident has shown me, it’s that Maya is not unaffected.

And that gives me hope that just maybe, in the end, I’ll get the girl.