Handling Cynthia: A Second Chances Novella Read Online Free Page B

intentional gutter balls, apparently with the goal of pissing Rick off—at which she succeeded, if the volume of his swearing was any indication. She sat beside Trent and rested a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"
    "It's weird," he said, "like a time warp. Being a teenager sucked. I didn't need a reminder of that. You're the only reason I came to this stupid reunion."
    "You're the only reason I came, too."
    His spine lengthened, and a thrill rose from his stomach to his heart. "Cyn." He breathed her name as if it were a talisman.
    She took his hand and squeezed it, a smile spreading over her face.
    "You're up, Trent." Jordan's voice broke the spell. Trent stood and bowled the next two frames. By the time he was done, Cyn was talking with Rick again, his arm around her shoulders.
    ***
    Cyn got up to bowl the final frame, swaying her hips for Trent's benefit as she walked. She was past caring whether she knocked any pins down, so when she bowled a score of three between the two frames, she was happy. It was time to go.
    She made a pit stop in the ladies’ room. As she stepped back into the hallway, Max was coming out of the men's room, and she had to stop short to keep from running into him. "Oops." She giggled, a high-pitched nervous sound.
    Max smiled and grabbed her arm. "It's okay. Have I mentioned how great that dress looks on you?"
    "Thanks. I feel better now that I'm out of those dumb bowling shoes."
    "Don't be self-conscious. You're a beautiful person, Cyn. I think you and Jordan are the only ones who didn't make fun of me in high school."
    "There was nothing to make fun of. You were a late bloomer, that's all. But boy, did you bloom. That spread in GQ was…impressive."
    He beamed, a faint blush on his cheeks. He looked so different now, but that open expression was the same ingenuous one he wore all through high school—like a kid with no pretensions, as if he were the source of the joke and not the butt of it.
    "I've got a personal trainer," he said, modest as always. "Otherwise, I'd never make time to work out. You know how it is. When you're creative, you want to spend all your time doing that."
    "When I'm writing, I lose track of time. I have every intention of working out, but I look at the clock and it's two in the morning. Fortunately, I forget to eat, too."
    He chuckled. "I read your debut. It's awesome."
    Her ears grew hot. "Um, thanks, I'm glad you liked it." Her voice came out thin and soft, like dandelion down floating on the breeze.
    "It seemed authentic. The BDSM, I mean. You must have done a lot of research."
    "Yeah, I did, I…"
    He laid his hand on hers. "You don't have to be embarrassed. I'm in the lifestyle."
    She let out a breath. "I kind of figured. Are you and Bernie together?"
    "Not yet, but I'm hoping to change that." He squeezed her hand. "How about you? Are you involved with anyone?"
    "I've been afraid to experiment, you know? I'm not looking for someone to play with. I want a relationship. If I go to a club, what will I have to choose from? Established Doms who've been through tons of subs, or newbies who might think BDSM is a synonym for abuse."
    He took out a business card and handed it to her. "I can introduce you to some people, if you like. Or if you ever want to talk, get some advice."
    "Max, I can't bother you. You've got a business to run."
    He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. "I'm not too busy for you."
    Tension drained from her shoulders. "Thank you. I've never been able to talk with anyone about this, except online."
    "Go to a munch. People in the lifestyle accept you for who you are. You don't have to be embarrassed. This is our normal."
    Normal . She let that word embrace her like a warm bath. She hadn't felt normal for a long time—maybe ever. High school had been a confusing mess, trying to do the right thing, never knowing how people would react to her. People wanted to get to know her because her family had money. But she'd had hardly any friends, people she