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“Come on, Bea. You know realistically that you and me together is never going to work out long term. Not with all our history. And not to mention the drama between our families. This can’t exist outside of here, but I also can’t walk away from you anymore.”
“So, what?” I deadpan, pushing off the wall and grabbing his arm to stop his pacing. “I become your dirty little secret? The girl you won’t kiss because it meansmorebut the same one you’re more than happy to slide your dick into when it’s convenient for you? Yeah, I don’t think so, Maverick.”
“Bea—”
“No, I’m not doing this. If that’s all you came for, you can see yourself out.” I move to the door, pulling it open, but he makes no move to leave.
“You aren’t letting me talk,” he says, but I just shake my head.
“Because your words are meaningless, please leave.”
“You don’t get it, Beatrice,” he says pushing the door closed. He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing back the strands that have fallen over his forehead. “All I’ve wanted for so long is to know that you suffered, just as I have. It’s ingrained in me to hate you because that’s what people expect. But I don’t. Ican’t.But that doesn’t mean that anybody is going to be okay with this. With us.”
“I don’t care what anybody else thinks, and neither should you. Whatever this is, it’s between us, nobody else,” I say before his other words take root, fueling me with anger. “And what do you mean that you needed to know I suffered? You don’t think I’ve been suffering for the last few years?” A harsh laugh falls past my lips, and I push past him as his mouth opens and closes in quick succession.
Walking into my bedroom, I drop down to the floor, grabbing the lockbox from under my bed. I punch in the code, pouring the contents onto my sheets. Pills rattle in their bottles, and the journal my therapist insisted I start keeping flings open to a random page. My words are a jumbled mess, just like my mind when I’m writing them down.
Maverick walks in behind me, a harsh breath whooshing out of his mouth, but I don’t give him a moment to gather his thoughts.
“You have no idea what my life was like while you were gone. Did you know I couldn’t leave the house without having panic attacks? Or that for almost two fucking years the only places I went were the therapist’s office, the grocery store, and the fucking beach, at night, because I couldn’t be around people without breaking down? Now tell me again, how all you wanted was for me to suffer, you jackass.
“All I’ve fucking done for two years is suffer. Whatever thoughts you’ve had about me, my own have been worse. I told you that day back in the hall, but you didn’t listen. You are thriving while all I’ve done is drown. So now you get the final piece of my shitty little puzzle. You can leave. I hope you’re satisfied to learn that you got everything you wanted.”
“Bumble—”
“Leave,” I whisper, blinking a few times to hold the tears at bay. He lingers another moment, the tension rolling off his body suffocating me as he steps closer, his hand hovering over my shoulder. But I can’t. I can’t have him touch me right now. If he does, I fear there will be no putting me back together. “Please.”
He pulls away, the saddest sigh coming from him as he walks across the room.
It’s not until I hear my dorm door open and close, heavy silence following, that I crumple into a ball on the floor, pulling my knees into my chest as tears spill over my cheeks.
I don’t know how long I stay there, but eventually Maisie lets herself in, finding me on my bedroom floor. The pills and journal are still laying on my bed, and I know she sees them, her soft gasp breaching my ears, but I don’t look up.
Without words or judgment, she slides to the floor, curling herself around my body. She hugs me tight, her strength unwavering as she holds me together while two years of pent-up guilt, anger, and sorrow spill out of me.
Maverick
Nash drops into the chair beside mine, snagging my tray and dragging it toward him. He inhales the croissant I grabbed from the line, practically swallowing it whole as I stare into the distance.
“Hey, earth to Mav. You good, bro?” He snaps his fingers in my face, pulling attention to him. “She’s not here.”
“Stating the obvious, dickhead,” I snap before tipping the coffee mug to my lips. The bitter liquid is cold now, sour as it hits my tongue.
“What’s got your panties in a wad?” he asks. “You’ve been practically walking on water the last couple weeks, but now you’re grumpy as fuck, dude.”
“Nothing,” I lie, leaning back into the chair and moving my gaze over the room. Telling him about what went down in Beatrice’s dorm yesterday isn’t very appealing to me, knowing my oldest friend will have some shit to say about it. So instead, I blurt out the other thing I can’t stop thinking about. “I fucked Beatrice.”
“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.” He laughs, dropping his elbow onto the table and resting his head on his closed fist.
“You know?”
“Well, I guessed.” He shrugs, a smirk on his lips. “You just confirmed it. But given the way you look as if you’ve just heard some really shitty news, I’m guessing there’s more to this than that?”
Nodding, I tip my head back, my eyes lingering on the bright lights dotted around the ceiling. “I fucked up, I think.”
“What happened, Mav?”
Blowing out a breath, I close my eyes, not able to look at my best friend as I tell him everything that happened in her dorm. He says nothing, just listens, and by the end, his mouth is gaping and sadness lingers in his hazel eyes.
