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“I know,” he says, stepping out of my reach and into the elevator. I follow him, leaning against the mirrored wall as he pushes the button to our floor. “I don’t mean to.”
“Then why are you?”
“You confuse me, Bumblebee.” He sighs, folding his arms over his chest. I’m ninety percent sure the lift is not moving, despite him pressing the button. Or maybe time has slowed at being stuck in here with him. “I created an image of you in my head, one built on assumption and things that others told me. And yet here you are. Not at all the girl I’ve thought you to be over the last two years.”
“Who is that?” He cocks his head toward me, his brow raised. “The girl you’ve been picturing?”
“A raging bitch.”
“Ouch.” I wince, bringing my hand up to rub against the knot tightening in my chest as he says the words. The same ones he uttered in my dorm. He at least has the bones to look apologetic as his lips twist into a wry smile.
“I didn’t say it to hurt you. It’s just . . . it was easier . . .”
“You’ve said that before, that first night you came to my dorm.”
“You lied, didn’t you? About why I was there?” I shift from foot to foot at his question, looking anywhere but him, and he lets out a dry laugh. “I knew it.”
“Yeah, well, it was kinda awkward you sat there not having a clue what happened.” I shrug, light laughter falling past my lips. Sometimes I forget how easy it is to talk to Maverick, or how easy it was, I suppose. But like this, there’s no terse silences, or moments of uncertainty, it’s just normal.
“What did happen?” he asks. “I pretty much gave up on trying to get you to leave the moment I said I was going to do it, so I know that’s not it.”
“You still don’t remember?”
“Nope.” He shakes his head, but his answer doesn’t hurt the way I expected. Instead, I chuckle, wrinkling my nose.
“Never have been good at holding your liquor, have you?”
Before he can say anything more, the elevator dings, the doors sliding open to reveal a long hallway. Ambling out, he matches his footsteps to mine, leading us to a door right at the end, tucked away from all the other rooms.
“Holy shit.” I gasp when we step inside. Just the entry is designed to pure magnificence. Stark white walls, expensive artwork plastered along them. Marble counts in the large kitchen, a lounge decked out with all the sofas and plush cushions you could need. “I knew Nash’s family were rich, but I didn’t know they wererichrich.”
Maverick laughs, tossing our bags on one of the leather couches before dropping down and resting his head against the large cushion. “Yeahhh, they got that dollar, babe.”
Butterflies flutter in my stomach at the term of endearment. I’m not even sure he realizes he’s used it as he continues talking, telling me all about how Nash’s dad has grown his hotel chain over the last few years. But I can’t focus on anything other than that one word.
I’m not convinced that things have changed between us, but there’s definitely a new ease that hasn’t been there since I came to BU.
Maybe the fresh start I thought could be happening back in my dorm, that night he showed up drunk, was overly hopeful, but now, I can’t help but wonder if we’re slipping back into some kind of friendship . . . only now I know friendship with him isn’t nearly enough anymore.
Maverick
“You and Bea seem to be getting on really well,” Beck says, pushing me into the changing room. We’ve played against Redland U once last year, but still, coming into unfamiliar territory always holds a level of anxiety. Or it usually does, anyway. Today the only thing I feel is calm as I drop my duffel on one of the benches and peel my Bears hoodie over my head.
“Do we have much of a choice?” I quip, tugging my shirt off. The room fills steadily as the team enters with raucous voices and laughter. Beck is right. There’s something happening between Beatrice and me, but I can’t let myself think about it because it’s too confusing when I do. “You guys have made it your mission to bring the girls into the gang, so I’m just trying to keep things easier for everyone.”
“That all it is?” He tilts his head, eyeing me.
“Yup.”
“Yeah, I don’t believe that for a second.” He laughs, throwing his arm over my shoulder. “But whatever you need to convince yourself to stay sane, my friend. As long as this light, easygoing Mav is here to stay, I’m happy to swallow whatever bullshit you’re shoveling my way.”
“I’m not . . . actually, you know what,” I say, nudging him off me to shove my jersey on. “I’m not even going to entertain this conversation. We’ve got a game to play, so get ready.”
“Yes, Captain.” He salutes me, winking. Shaking my head, I push him away, my laughter following his as Nash joins us. “Let’s fucking do this, boys. Playoffs, here we come.”
Sweat drips down my neck as the whistle blows, my jersey clinging to my skin. Cheers erupt from our side, the cheerleaders leading the audience into a chant.
Nash jumps on my back, his arm wrapping around my neck as he whoops in my ear. “You fucking did that shit.”
