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His declaration mere minutes ago runs through my head on a loop, but I can’t give him the same certainties. “I don’t know.”
Opening my eyes, I zero in on him. He says nothing, but his eyes tell me a thousand words that his mouth won’t.
“I’m not even sure I know what love is,” I say, my lips turning down. I haven’t so much as uttered the words “I love you” to anyone in over two years. Not even my parents hear those three little words from me.
“I wish I could tell you that I did. Though I did care for you, way more than just a friendship. Willow was my best friend, and Nash was basically my brother, but you? You eclipsedeveryone. You stole pieces of me back then that I’ve never been able to get back. Even now, despite the distance between us, I can still feel that with you. But love? I don’t know. I got it wrong once before, and for so long I believed that was everything I deserved. I can’t get it wrong again . . . not with you. I’d never survive it.”
He drops a kiss to the top of my head before pulling away and standing. He holds a hand out to me, a peace offering in the night, and I take it, letting him haul me to my feet.
We walk silently back up the pier, his hand never leaving mine until we reach my car. When he loosens his hold, I tighten my fingers for a second, not ready to let go. He stares at me as though he wants to say something, but he must think better of it. He pulls away, pressing a kiss to the top of my head before spinning on his heel and stalking away.
When he reaches his car, a few spaces down from mine, he looks back at me. His lips quirk at one side, a ghost of a smile passing over them before I hop into the driver’s seat, bringing my engine to life.
Maverick follows me the whole way home, then walks me to my dorm. He doesn’t say a word, but his silent comfort offers more than any words could. He finds my hand again as I close my other around the handle, his fingers squeezing gently before he pulls away. I push the door open, turning to him as I say goodbye and close the door with him on the other side.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Beatrice
MyheadachesasI try to keep up with Professor Johns’ lecture. He paces the floor, pressing on the remote as he flicks through slides at too fast a rate that my pen has no way of keeping up with notes. Not that my hand is even trying to play catch up, instead I tap away on the paper in front of me, a rhythm I can’t follow.
Last night at the pier plays on a continuous loop in my head. I didn’t tell Maverick the whole truth as to why I pulled my statement, knowing that the rest of that sordid tale isn’t something I will give him, but I just hope what I did is enough to offer him a little closure.
I’m not naïve enough to hope that anything has changed between us, beyond maybe being around each other without always feeling hurt. Too much time has passed and the conversation long overdue. It’s only cowardice that has stopped me reaching out before now and giving him the answers he deserved.
But then he’s been a coward too, hasn’t he?
He said it himself; it was easier to pin the blame on me than deal with his own role in our story. Two kids fumbling through life without the courage to reach out and just talk to each other. A tale as old as time … one I wish wasn’t ours.
“Fuck,” I grumble, earning me a scowl from my right. I mutter an apology to the girl, before turning back to my papers. Gathering my materials, I shove them in my bag and toss it over my shoulder before pushing past the legs blocking the aisle and making my way down the stairs.
Heads snap my way as Professor Johns calls out to me, but I ignore him, shoving through the door and leaving the lecture hall. The hallways are quiet as I wander through them, heading nowhere in particular.
While I know my and Maverick’s choices are our own, I can’t help but wonder what could have happened had we had this conversation two years ago. Would it have changed anything then? Is there even a chance it can change things now?
Am I fucking up his life once more by making him face this again?
He was getting back on track before I came here, finding his place in the world again. His grades were good, his football career back on track, and he was happy. Then I came barreling into his perfectly crafted world once more like a tornado, threatening the peace he created for himself here.
Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them away, refusing to let them fall while I’m out in the open.
I meander through the gardens, heading toward the football field. Players run the track and practice for their upcoming game tonight. My heart beats erratically when I find Maverick, his eyes already on me, as if he can sense me in his vicinity.
A haunted look passes over his face, his jaw hardening before he spins on his heels, running toward where his coach stands at the edge of the field. I drag my feet quicker over the grass, passing the field before I can linger on him anymore.
My dorm is in sight when I hear my name being called behind me. Without stopping, I fish through my bag in search of my keys, but before my fingers can curl around the keyring, an arm bands around me, spinning me until my back is pressed against the cold brick wall.
“You ignored me,” Maverick says, stepping closer until our chests are pressed together. He grips my chin, lifting my head until our eyes collide. Electricity shoots through my veins at the intensity reflecting in his gaze, my breath shortening when he dips his head until our mouths are almost touching. “It’s rude to ignore people, Bumblebee.”
A swarm of butterflies take flight in my stomach as his gaze drops, zeroing in on my lips. My tongue dips out, swiping along my bottom lip, and Maverick follows the movement, his chest rippling under the deep breath he pulls in.
In a moment, he’ll pull away and break the spell, as he has so many times before when he’s been drawn to my mouth. The hand on my hip tightens, and I close my eyes, knowing our time is almost over. I hold my breath, waiting for his heat to leave me.
“Fuck this,” he growls, and my shoulders deflate, but before I can steel myself to accept his rejection, his lips press to mine, andholy shit—Maverick Brady is kissing me. His lips are on mine, and he tastes like mint and vanilla, and it floods my senses as my heart threatens to burst out of my chest.
We’ve done so much together in the eleven years I’ve known him, recently going way beyond the scope of a simple kiss, but Maverick doesn’t kiss.Ever.
That’s been his one rule for as long as he’s crushed on girls and known what a kiss was.
