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She starts pacing, every now and then stopping to face me before shaking her head and resuming her steps. This goes on for about five very-long minutes, until she takes a seat next to me.
“Details.” She stares at me with interest as I fill her in on everything that happened last night. Her expression goes from shock to surprise to sadness to anger. Each emotion matches the way I’m feeling. When I’m finished, she lets out a slow whistle before a light chuckle slips from her lips.
“So where did you sleep?”
“On the couch. I wasn’t lying to him about him lying on my bed and taking his clothes off before falling asleep. He was drunk, but I guess I didn’t really realize how drunk.”
“Jesus, Bea.” She laughs, tipping her head back to the sky. “Why lie to him though? Why not just tell him the truth?”
Sighing, I bring the cup to my lips and take a generous sip while I think about the same question I’ve asked myself since I walked out of my dorm. Why did I lie? It would have been easy to just tell him what happened last night, but the moment he asked and his nose wrinkled and obvious discomfort etched into his features, I knew I couldn’t tell him.
“I thought it meant something, Mais,” I say, looking over to the sea crashing against the sand. “But he didn’t even remember. It’s mortifying that what meant so much to me, means next to nothing to him.”
“You don’t know that. He was drunk.”
“I didn’t think he was that drunk,” I whisper. “But it’s fine. We can just carry on as we were, and he can keep hating me. It’s better this way, anyway.”
“Bea,” Maisie starts, but I wave her off, standing.
“Come on, let’s go get some breakfast, my treat, and then we’ll do whatever you want today.”
Apparently, Maisie didn’t get my move-on-with-our-lives-as-normal message since she seems to have made it her mission through the week to get Maverick and me in the same room. We’ve been bowling, to the cinema, out for dinner, and somehow, Maverick is justalwaysthere.
And it seems we’re both being stubborn, neither of us avoid the gatherings, but we keep our mouths closed when we’re stuck in the same vicinity.
While it’s nice to spend time with the others, and I can feel us falling into easy friendships, things remain strained between Maverick and me. The only positive to come from this experience is that he seems to have given up on his bid to get me out of college . . . at least to my face.
The notes continue to show up, but I don’t read any, not trusting myself to not break down. Do I genuinely believe it’s Maverick sending them? No, not really. But the other option isn’t something I’m willing to consider.
So I let my mind pin the blame on him anyway, even though I know it’s not the truth.
“Hey,” Harlow says, dropping down opposite me at the table.
She’s another thing I’m struggling with. She’s just always around, hanging with the guys. And the worst thing is, she’s so nice. But every time I try to talk to her, all I can see is Maverick swinging her around in his arms, and uncontrollable annoyance washes over me.
I wave awkwardly, flicking my eyes over the cafeteria. I don’t see any of the others, which means I’m stuck with just Harlow. She waves back, smiling at me. Her shoulder-length blonde hair falls into loose waves that she’s tucked behind one ear, and the denim shorts and cheer tee she wears shows off an expanse of golden skin. There isn’t a lick of makeup on her face, and she’s effortlessly beautiful.
I hate her.
“Any idea what Maisie’s grand plans are for tonight?” she asks, making me laugh despite myself.
“I’m hoping she’s going to let us have the night off. Forced fun has tired me out.”
Harlow laughs. “I feel that. Between cheer and keeping up with Maisie, I’m surprised I’m not dead on my feet yet.” She fiddles with her tray, peeling apart her sandwich as suffocating silence falls over us. It’s another moment before she looks at me, her eyes shrewd as she purses her lips. “Can I ask you something?”
I nod, chewing my lips.
“You don’t like me, do you?” My mouth gapes, my brows shooting up, but she keeps talking before I can come up with a reasonable answer for her, because my feelings toward Harlow are anythingbutreasonable. “Don’t worry, I’m not easily offended. I’m just curious.”
Grabbing my water, I tip a generous amount down my throat, trying to clear the sudden dry mouth. She watches me, her lips twitching as she waits for my answer. “It’s not that I don’t like you, it’s just—”
Before I can finish, Maverick slides into the seat next to her and puts his arm over her shoulder and tugs her against his chest, squeezing gently. She giggles at the intrusion, her attention finally leaving me.
That.It’s justthat.
The ease in their friendship, the reminder of what I used to have with him.
I don’t voice my thoughts aloud, using the interruption to pull my phone out and scroll until the others join us. I don’t look over at them again, not wanting to see them all over each other, or whispering sweet nothings into one another’s ears.
