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“I wouldn’t go that far,” I grumble, deciding at that moment I’m definitely not going to tell him I told her I loved her once. “It was a moment. It happened. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“But you want it to mean something, don’t you?” He surmises, his laughter trailing off as his expression softens.
“Jesus, this isn’t a girly pow-wow,” I snap.
“Hey, we men can talk about our feelings too.” He sits beside me, his gaze out on the field. “And, between you and me? There isn’t a better girl in the world for you, bro. She’s the real fucking deal, and if you don’t snap her up, someone else will. Can you watch that?”
“Fuck no.” I sigh, shaking my head. “Just that group chat you set up—which, thanks for adding me, by the way.” I glare at him, and he has the gall to laugh at me. “That was more than enough to know I could never see her be with anyone else.”
“I was never going to set her up on a real date, you know? As if I’d trust another guy with her.”
“Sometimes I can’t help but wonder if you’re in love with her yourself,” I joke, jostling his shoulder with mine. He’s not. I know that. But his scrutiny is too much that I need something to break the intensity up.
He chuckles, shaking his head. “God no. I love that girl so much, but she is not my person. She’s nothing more than a sister to me, and you of all people know that. There’s only one guy I’ve ever thought good enough for her.”
I nod, biting down on my tongue, and he sees the change in my thoughts, something only a friend of sixteen-plus years can.
“It’s time to get your girl, Maverick. But don’t fuck it up. She’s not someone you can keep secret and hide away from everyone. You want to be with her, you’ve gotta go all in. She deserves the best this world has to offer after everything she’s been through, and if you can’t be the one to give it to her, don’t even bother trying.”
“I know,” I say. There isn’t a single part of me that can disagree with his words. Beatrice deserves everything, and even the thought of anyone else giving that to her tears me apart.
“So what are you gonna do about it?”
My damp hair sticks to my forehead, the cool air offering a welcome chill against my overheated skin. We won the game, though it was close, and Coach took no issue with calling us out over the shit in the locker room.
We deserve it, or I do anyway. I spent most of the fucking playing time glancing over the bleachers, trying to find a familiar head of red hair, only to come up empty.
I know she came; Nash took great pleasure in telling me that before the third quarter. But apparently she decided to play hide and seek or some shit whenever I tried to spot her in the crowd.
Beck finds me coming out the exit, a chick under his arm from the cheerleading team. I flick my gaze, finding Harlow who looks on with narrowed eyes, a scowl on her face.
Waving her over, she saunters, coming up to my side. Instead of lifting her up, I give her a small hug, my eyes drawing over the waiting crowd.
“She’s over there.” Tipping my head to Harlow, I raise a brow, and she smirks, muttering, “Men” as she shakes her head.
She points toward the parking lot, toward a baby-blue Nissan Sentra that stands out amongst the sea of black and white cars. The crowd disappears, the cars fading into the background when my eyes lock on Beatrice.
Wearing a pale gray sweater, and a pair of denim cut-offs, she glances at the ground, kicking the toes of her white Chucks against the asphalt. Her hair is pulled away from her face, half of it fastened up with some kind of clip, but a couple strands fall loose around her flushed cheeks.
Nash’s question infiltrates my brain—“You are completely and utterly in love with that girl, aren’t you?”—and fuck me if the answer doesn’t become clear at the sight of her waiting there.
Dropping my arm from around Harlow, I shove through the crowd, not stopping for the hands thrown in the air, or the cheers and chants that call for me. Bypassing them all, I jog through the parking lot.
Beatrice’s eyes widen as I reach her, her mouth dropping open. A squeak passes her lips as I press a hand to the metal roof, and she mouths something, but I don’t hear her, my words falling out in a rush.
“I lied to you,” I say, stepping into her. My hand curls around her jaw, tipping her head backward until she’s looking up at me. “I said I loved you back then, but what I didn’t tell you is I never stopped.”
She gasps, her eyes filling as she blinks against the emotions.
“I am in love with you, Bumblebee. I always have been, and I don’t think there will ever be a day that I’m not.” She stares at me, not a single word coming out of her. After a minute or two, I’m not even sure she’s breathing as her body remains locked in place, her face frozen with her mouth wide open.
“I don’t need you to say it back. In fact, I don’t even want you to. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Only when you’re really sure. But I need you to know that I am. Iloveyou. I’ve fucked up so many things in my life when it comes to us, but this won’t be one of them. You’re it. You’re my one. And I want to spend a lifetime with you, proving to you that I’m the right choice. You will always be safe with me, Bumblebee. So what do you say? Wanna give this a go, you and me?”
Another minute passes, and my throat clams up the longer she goes without speaking. I’m about to pull away, wondering if I can somehow take back everything I just said, though I know I won’t. But she finally moves, her hands grabbing at the shirt plastered to my chest as she pushes onto her tiptoes and tugs me close.
Stumbling, my other hand lands on the roof of her car, steadying myself in time for her lips to find mine. The kiss is awkward and sweet just like her, but it’s meaningful all the same. She’s telling me the words she can’t say.
Her lips move over mine. It’s raw and wet, and we’re fumbling to find our rhythm as I crowd into her. My heart races in its cage, threatening to burst out of me, but the only thing I feel is contentment. This is right. Beatrice was always meant to be mine, and I just hope she’s willing to stick around long enough to figure that out.
