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He lit up. “Are you participating in it?”
“Oh,” I shook my head when the front door opened. “Probably not.”
Maverick walked in slowly, judging the situation in front of him, he looked worried. “What are y’all doing?”
I dropped my gaze to the opened sketchbook, going to grab it before Frankie held open a page to show him. “Look at this, bro. She’s awesome.”
Maverick’s mossy gaze slid to mine and he grabbed the sketchbook. Thoughts of everything I’d drawn in there since my freshman year surfaced. I was sure since he tormented me I’d drawn something resembling him once or twice.
I snaked my arm across the table, trying to grab it, but he turned his back to me and flipped the pages, stopping abruptly, his shoulders tensed. When he turned around, my eyes drifted toward the opened page.
His high-school jersey number stood out in bright red, with angry teeth, and a girl—obviously me—crying and pulling her hair in the background. The bright sky sat behind us in royal blues and rainy reds.
I drew that after Peter never talked to me again.
“That one is awesome,” Frankie said. “Isn’t that your football jersey number?” His brows drew together, and realization traveled across his face. ”Oh.”
Heat climbed from my chest to my cheeks. I snatched my sketchbook, my bag and bolted to my room.
Maverick’s deep baritone voice shook my spine as I listened by my door. “It’s nothing, Frankie.”
“Were you mean to her?” he asked bewildered.
Maverick cursed under his breath.
“You always told me to be nice to girls, and here you are, bullying one.”
I waited for Maverick to answer but he didn’t. This didn’t surprise me in the least, because if Maverick Booker was one thing, it was inconsistent and quiet, even though his words rang loud in my memories.
Chapter Ten
Maverick
“Where are you going?”
Frankie stood by the entrance, one hand on the front door and the other in his front pocket. “Josie mentioned an art exhibit in the quad, I want to go.”
I shrugged on a clean t-shirt and studied his face. “Why?”
“Did you not see her art? It was amazing. I want to go see the other kids, too.”
“You don’t know the way.”
Frankie rolled his eyes. “I’ll find it.”
I didn’t need my little brother getting lost, especially when I’d decided to try to gain guardianship of him soon. I didn’t want to go to the quad, not after seeing her artwork from high school.
The hate and sadness in that picture burned my gut, especially knowing I caused it. “Let’s go to the movies,” I suggested instead.
He narrowed his gaze at me. “What’s playing?”
“I don’t know.”
“Exactly,” he said with a huff. “You’re just trying to avoid Josie. You were mean to her, weren’t you?”
I swallowed down the slew of curses on my tongue and slammed my hands into my pockets. I always told Frankie to treat girls with respect, and ironically, I bullied Josie every chance I got.
How could I explain that to him?I couldn’t without telling him everything and it’s not the time. “Fine, we’ll go,” I spat.
