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That message came through just after the game, but it’s the ones from the early hours of the morning—when I was preoccupied with Beatrice—that have my heart sinking and my stomach turning.
Willow: I know you’re probably busy (though I will say it’s very rude you ignored my last message) but I just wanted to let you know I really am proud of you Mav. You’ve always been my hero, and that never changed. But watching you thrive out there, I couldn’t be more honored to call you my big brother.
Willow: After everything with Beatrice, I thought I’d never see you smile again and I blamed myself for that. I invited her into our lives, I let her worm her way into our family, and in doing so she took so many chances away from you. But instead of letting it get you down, you owned it and came back even stronger.
Willow: So yeah I’m super proud. And I’m glad that you’re not letting her be there distract you from the bigger picture. I love you, Big Bro.
Willow: ps. I’m very drunk right now . . . so don’t remind me of this sop fest tomorrow, or I’ll probably vom.
Blowing out a slow breath, I drop back down to the bed, my eyes zeroing in on a crack in the ceiling. Willow was wrong about one thing in that message, I am letting Beatrice distract me from the bigger picture.
But I’m also starting to wonder if that’s a bad thing.
Since coming to BU, I’ve been so focused on football and school, I’ve barely let myself live. I have friends, sure, good grades and a great scoresheet . . . but what if I’m missing out on so much more?
Being around Beatrice the last two days, I’ve been nothing but content in her company. The anger and frustration long gone where she’s concerned. Could we be more? At least between just us?
Willow would never accept her being back in my life, and I doubt my parents would be okay with it either, considering they were the ones who told Willow and me we were done with the Fletchers after what happened.
But what if, here, tucked away at college, we can find ourselves in each other again? No strings, no expectations. Just two people living and finding comfort in each other away from the rest of the world. What they don’t know can’t hurt them, right?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Beatrice
Theknockcomesatmy door only minutes after I’ve gotten in. The drive back to campus took way longer than planned, with multiple stops for caffeine factored in to stave off my exhaustion and Maisie’s and Harlow’s hangovers.
I toss my bag on the couch, flicking my gaze over the space before I decide it’s tidy enough. Not that I’m expecting any visitors, having just dropped both girls off at their respective dorms.
Pulling the door open, my eyes widen at the sight of Maverick leaning against the frame. Dressed in the same joggers and sweater as earlier, he crowds me into the dorm, slamming the door shut behind him.
“What are you—”
He presses a hand to my lips, cutting off my speech as he steps into me. My back bounces off the wall, and his other hand cups my hip, keeping me locked in place as he towers over me.
“I have a proposition for you,” he says, his eyes heating as he takes in the shirt I’m still wearing. I know I should have changed, leaving it for him back in the hotel, but I couldn’t take it off when I left his room in the early hours. Instead, I chucked a hoodie over it, hiding it from the others.
My train of thought veers off course when the hand pressed to my lips starts tracing over them, prodding until my mouth pops open and he slides the tip of thumb inside. I try to speak, but nothing comes beyond a squeak as he groans, licking his lips while watching me.
When he presses it against my tongue, I close my mouth without thought, moaning when he pulls out. Our breaths mingle, and heat courses through me as my eyes zero in on his staring at my lips, the need I’m feeling reflecting back at me.
“Your proposition?” I croak out, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “What is it?”
“Right, yeah, that.” His eyes lift from my mouth, locking on my gaze. Nodding, I say nothing, waiting for him to elaborate. “I’ve been thinking, you and me, we can be mutually beneficial to each other for a while.”
“Big words, Maverick, but what do they mean?” I tease, a smirk tipping my lips.
“I wanna fuck.” I choke out a breath, not expecting the crassness that falls from his mouth, and with the way his gapes afterward, I don’t think he did either. “Wait, no. I mean, yes, I do. Fuck. I’m fucking this up. I had a whole thing planned but then you opened the door wearing my shirt and the only head I can think with is the one downstairs.”
“Your dick, you mean?”
“Shit, Bumblebee,” he hisses, his hand moving to readjust himself. My eyes dip, my cheeks flushing at the sight of the tent straining there. “No saying dick until I’m finished, okay?”
Bringing my fingers to my mouth, I mime zipping it. He nods, satisfied with my response for now.
“What I mean to say,” he starts, stepping back and pacing. “I’m so busy with the football season, and I don’t have time for a relationship—nor do I want one, right now I need to focus on school and football—but I do have needs and you have them too, and we can satisfy those for each other without the worry of things becoming serious. Because they can’t. Not with us.”
“What does that mean, not with us?” I ask, rubbing at the tightening in my chest. He turns to me, a slight frown on his lips before he resumes pacing. His other words send a trickle of heat through me, but I push it down. I need his answer first.
