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Those numbers. There’s something about them, so familiar, but I can’t place why. Instead of wasting time thinking on it, I unlock her phone.
My teeth clench with each message that pops up on the screen, each more degrading than the last. Some are guys offering her their services, but many are from chicks, calling her all kinds of vile names, and in that instant, I feel like a real piece of shit.
I never intended for it to turn into a free-for-all, I just wanted a few people to message her shit, not offer their fucking dicks as company to her.
Clearing all the notifications so I don’t have to see them, I open up the bulletin app and delete the message, making myself a silent promise that I’ll put a stop to every single person reaching out to her . . . though, I’m not telling her that.
All it means is I need to change tactics where she’s concerned. This is between Beatrice and me, and getting other people involved is obviously not the way to go, because the two times I’ve tried, she’s come back stronger, and I’ve felt nothing but guilt after.
When I pass it back, she mutters a “Thank you” before spinning on her heel and grabbing the door handle. My hand presses against the wood before she can open it, my chest flush to her back as I lean in.
“Delete the messages, Bumblebee,” I demand, my hand going to her hip. She heaves in a slow breath, her body heat rising beneath the washed gray cotton. “And if you’re even thinking of taking one of those guys up on their offer, think again.”
She tips her head back, resting it against my chest as she flicks her eyes to mine. There’s a satisfied grin on her lips and danger in her eyes as she opens her mouth. “Too late. But thanks for the warning, Mav.” Without another word, she pushes down on the handle, forcing me to step back as she tugs the door open and walks from my apartment, her hips swaying with each step.
“Oh, man.” Gray guffaws, coming to stand next to me with his arm tossed over my shoulders. “You are so fucked.”
Chapter Ten
Beatrice
Overthenextweek,the texts die down and the taunts slow. Though a few continue—mostly girls, I’ve noticed. And each one slowly chips away at the walls I’ve erected over my heart.
It’s not so much the words they use—I’ve heard them all before—it’s the fact they’ve made a snap judgment about me, all because of someone else, and that reminds me too much of the past I long to put behind me.
Maybe that’s Maverick’s grand plan, dredging up enough memories to attack my self-confidence that eventually I’ll walk, though I don’t think it is, not really. Call me naïve, but he didn’t like the messages he saw pop up on my phone while it was in his hand, nor the idea of me replying to one of the many guys offering up their services.
A wide smile takes over my face then. The way his hand molded to my hip, his warning a whisper in my ear. I have no plans to follow up on the lie I told him, but it’s the only thing that’s kept me pushing through this week. Getting under his skin lights a fire inside me, because I know he’s as affected as I am by whatever’s between us.
Maisie fields yet another comment slung my way as we enter the Bean Bar—the coffee shop on campus—but I wave her away. Fighting back is something I’m quickly learning I’m good at, even when the words hurt.
“Don’t waste your breath, Mais,” I tell her, fanning the hem of my tee. Having grown up in California, I’m well-adjusted to the heat, but the AC on campus has been playing up the past few days so sweat drips off me.
“We need to get you some new tops,” Maisie says, handing me an iced coffee. It’s very much welcomed right now. She must notice the panic in my eyes, as she quickly shakes her head, placating me. “Nothing that would make you uncomfortable, but Bea, you’re sweating your tits off, literally.”
“It’s just so warm,” I groan into my glass, propping myself up against the counter while she waits for our food.
“We can go after your last class? You finish at three, right?” Nodding, I grab the sandwich from her outstretched hand, tearing the paper apart before taking a bite. The ham and cheese melts in my mouth as my stomach growls because I haven’t eaten anything today since I overslept. “We can hit up the mall, then be back in time to head over to the game.”
The bread I’m chewing gets stuck in my throat as I swallow too quickly. Maisie snatches the coffee and sandwich from my hand before they can land on the tile floor, placing them on the counter. She whacks me on the back a few times, her eyes growing wide with panic as a few others catch on to the fact I’m choking.
When it comes unstuck and I can breathe again, I shrink into myself, a violent heat rushing up my neck and covering my cheeks. If I could stop embarrassing myself, that would be wonderful.
Grabbing my food and drink, I keep my head down and rush out the door knowing Maisie will follow me. I find a bench outside, tucked around the corner, and plonk down, groaning into the wood as I rest my head.
“Game?” I ask when Maisie joins me, her hand rubbing gentle circles on my back.
“Should have mentioned that before, huh?” She chuckles, doing her best to look sheepish when I flick my eyes to her. “I figured I could just kinda drop it into conversation and you wouldn’t notice. I didn’t expect you to try and kill yourself with a sandwich over the tiny detail.”
“Do you even like football?”
“Ma’am.” She gasps, side-eyeing me as I raise a brow at her. “I have two older brothers, what do you take me for? Don’t you dare ask that question when you meet them. In fact, that day, you’re the biggest football fan alive, otherwise they may just boot you out the house.”
“Really?”
“Really,” she echoes, peeling open her sandwich. “Friday night football is basically like Sunday mass in our house. It’s mandatory, and every member of the family is expected to show up if they’re in town.”
“You miss it, don’t you?” I ask, not missing the twinge of sadness that lingers in her voice.
