The Maybe Boyfriend: A YA Contemporary Romance Novel (The Boyfriend Series Book 6)

by Christina Benjamin

  Megan wrinkled her nose. “Oh no.”

  “She swears it’s just something she ate, but between us, I think she’s plain overworked herself. She’s been exhausted for weeks.”

  “Is there anything I can do?” Megan asked.

  “Nah. Sam won’t listen to me, but at least her father’s convinced her to go to the clinic just to be sure it’s nothing serious.”

  “That’s good.”

  Devon rubbed the back of his neck again. “I don’t feel right leaving Sam. Would ye hate me if I skip out on the first leg of our camping trip?”

  “No, of course not, Devon. Go take care of Sam.”

  Devon gave Megan a quick hug. “Thanks, Megs. Maybe we can catch up with ye in Killarney if Sam’s feeling solid.”

  As he jogged back down the hall, Megan called after him. “Keep me posted.”

  Devon shot her a thumbs up.

  Just then, Zander pulled up out front in the Defender. He parked and left it running as he sauntered into the foyer looking like he’d just stepped out of a hunky outdoorsmen advertisement. Boots, beanie and backpack were a good look on him. Then again, what didn’t look good on Zander—or not on Zander?

  Megan shook herself from her daze, realizing Zander had asked her something. “What?”

  “I said, where is everyone?” Zander repeated, taking off his shades.

  “Oh, um it’s just us.”

  “What do ye mean?”

  “Devon’s taking Sam to the clinic. She has the stomach flu.”

  Zander looked like Megan had just told him Santa wasn’t real. Was the idea of spending the weekend with her that horrifying?

  “Maybe we should postpone the trip?” Zander suggested.

  “Devon said they’ll catch up with us if Sam’s up for it.”

  “It won’t hurt to wait a day, will it?”

  “Zander, I really need to get these shots for the film.”

  He pulled out his phone and dialed someone, striding back outside. When he came back in he looked angry, but he started scooping up Megan’s gear and carrying it out to the Defender.

  “What was that about?” Megan asked following him to the car.

  “Just confirming things with Devon.”

  Megan’s mouth dropped open. “Did you think I was lying?”

  Zander didn’t respond. He just climbed into the driver’s seat and strapped himself in. Megan sighed, walking around to take the seat next to him. It was going to be a very long weekend if this was how Zander planned on behaving. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that even lemons could be made into vodka lemonade.

  Zander

  The drive to the Burren wasn’t as painful as Zander had expected. Megan synced up her phone and played DJ as he drove. They could at least still talk about music. Music was safe. Music didn’t make him want to tear her clothes off—consequences be damned.

  Megan had excellent taste in music and Zander found his mood softening as he listened to the upbeat songs, letting the sun warm him through the windshield. He could almost pretend he was happy as he watched Megan stare out the window in awe of the misty green landscape they passed.

  He loved seeing her so delighted. He knew how much she’d wanted to see Ireland and he’d always wanted to be the one to show it to her. Zander loved his country. He was a proud Irishman and introducing Megan to the majestic wonders of his homeland should’ve been a dream come true. But it was dampened by his fears.

  Zander had always imagined this would be an experience that brought them closer together. And as much as he tried to fight it, he still wanted to be closer to Megan. He craved her with the devastation of an illness. He could hardly eat or sleep the entire time he’d been gone, but being back wasn’t any easier. Megan consumed his mind and not being able to act on his desires was killing him.

  He realized he was the only one standing in his way, but he’d convinced himself it was for the best. He’d tried to distance himself from Megan to protect her. But distance would be hard to come by the next few days.

  Zander focused his eyes on the road, determined to keep his guard up. He’d already let Megan get too close and the repercussions had been severe. He couldn’t let it happen again.

  Megan

  Megan couldn’t put into words how blown away she was by the wild beauty of the Burren. The massive national park stretched on for miles, its uninhabited landscape looking more like a host for alien life forms than anything she’d ever expected to find only a few hours from Dublin.

  Crags of fossilized limestone jutted in every direction, drenched with fog and dripping with glowing green moss and arid desert-like plants.

  “This place looks like a fairyland,” she said breathlessly as Zander cruised slowly down the dirt path they’d been following for miles.

  “Reminds me of the House of the Holy,” Zander said, referring to Led Zepplin’s iconic album cover.

  “Definitely,” Megan concurred.

  Zander queued up ‘D’yer Mak’er’ and she grinned. It was her favorite Zepplin song. The fact that he was playing it gave her hope that the boy she’d fallen for was still hidden somewhere inside the stony façade Zander had taken up recently.

  Their journey to the Burren hadn’t been as uncomfortable as Megan expected. She’d refused to let his mood upset her and went about the trip as she would’ve with anyone—happy and grateful.

  Megan had seemed to win Zander over some by talking about music. Falling into their familiar roles of debating song titles and band names eased some of the earlier tension. Food seemed to help too.

  Megan had packed a cooler full of sugary treats. It should’ve lasted them much longer than it did. But she suspected both of them kept their mouths full of food to absorb the moments of awkward silence they’d weathered.

  “I think this is a good spot to start filming,” Megan said, hanging her head out the window.

  Zander pulled the Defender onto a soft shoulder and Megan eagerly leapt out to unpack her film gear. She’d been shooting as they drove with her small shotgun camcorder, but she was anxious to try out her shoulder rig in such an expansive landscape.

  Zander

  Zander trailed Megan as they hiked through the Burren. She was so busy staring through her lens that she’d almost fallen twice and it was making him a nervous wreck. He kept close to her, his hand hovering near the small of her back to catch her whenever she was off-kilter.

  The terrain in the Burren was unforgiving. Crevices split the limestone like a snaking grid. A misstep could easily result in a broken ankle or twisted knee. Zander found himself relieved he’d decided to come with Megan on this expedition. If she’d been out here alone he would’ve been worried sick.

  Then there was the matter of her breathing. Ireland in February was brutal. Zander’s own lungs ached as he puffed steaming clouds of mist with every exhalation. He found himself watching Megan’s cloud breaths with restless interest.

  So far she seemed fine, but Zander’s worry for Megan was never far from his mind. Despite her tiny size she was fearless, jumping ravines and climbing crumbling stones to get the perfect shot. A Shakespearean quote popped into his mind as he watched her. ‘Though she be but little, she is fierce.’

  The trouble was, Megan was almost as clumsy as she was ambitious. After helping her cross a wide gap in the stones, Zander gave up trying to anticipate her blundering footsteps and just kept his hand attached to the belt loop of her jeans.

  After two hours of filming Zander gave her belt a tug. “We should be heading back soon.”

  “I just want to get one more panoramic,” Megan said scanning the horizon.

  Zander watched her zero in on a crumbling rock face a few feet above them.

  “I think I can get a great shot from up there.”

  “What’s wrong with right here?” he asked.

  “It would be a better shot if I was about ten feet taller.”

  “Would ye settle for six, four?”

  “Huh?” />
  “Just get on my shoulders, I don’t want ye climbing that death trap.”

  “Why not?”

  Because I’m worried yer gonna stop breathing on me again. “Because the boulder looks one breath away from turning to sand,” Zander grumbled. “Shoulders. Take it or leave it.”

  Megan smirked. “Should we work out a cheerleading routine first, or . . .”

  “Just get on with it,” Zander griped. “We’re running outta daylight.”

  Megan’s laughter echoed through the barren landscape as she tried to situate herself atop Zander’s shoulders. Once she’d stopped laughing and managed to balance herself, Zander handed Megan her camera, slowing standing to his full height.

  “This is perfect,” she called. “Can you turn in a slow 360 degrees?”

  “Sure, would ye like me to do any other tricks, yer Highness?”

  “Hey,” she teased pinching his ear. “This was your idea.”

  “Don’t remind me,” he muttered.

  The moment Megan climbed onto his shoulders, Zander knew this had been a bad idea. His hands firmly gripped her voluptuous thighs, which rubbed either side of his neck, and when she’d slid her hands through his hair to steady herself it’d sent shudders through him.

  He’d barely been able to conceal his frustrating attraction to her all day. Why in Christ’s name had he thought having her thighs around his neck was a good idea?

  Finally, Megan had the shot and Zander helped her down. She packed up her gear and Zander offered to take the heavy pack from her. Halfway back to the car, Megan took another misstep. Zander grabbed her arm to steady her, but she still went down.

  “Shit!” Megan howled rubbing her knee as she clamored back to her feet.

  “Ye okay?”

  She hissed in pain. “Yeah, just banged my knee.”

  “Let me see.”

  “I’m fine. It’ll just be one hell of a bruise tomorrow.”

  “Can ye walk?”

  Megan looked at him like he was insane. “Yes, Zander. It’s just a bump.”

  “Yer sure?”

  She took his hand. “I’m not made of glass, ya know?”

  “Right.”

  There wasn’t any accusation in Megan’s voice, but suddenly Zander felt like a wanker for acting like a nervous ninny around her all day.

  “Thanks,” Megan said, not letting go of his hand as they continued their trek back to the car.

  “For what?”

  “For coming with me today. This was fun.”

  Warmth unexpectedly spread through Zander’s chest like wildfire as Megan smiled up at him. What a hopeless fool he was.

  24

  Megan

  It was dark by the time they arrived in Doolin. They checked into their Bed and Breakfast and carried their gear to their room.

  “Shite,” Zander muttered when he opened the door to their suite.

  “What?”

  “There’s only one bed.”

  Megan walked around Zander into the room. It was adorable—blue and white gingham curtains, hardwood floors, white walls decorated in Irish pastorals, and one comfy-looking king-sized bed. “Oh well,” she said dropping her things onto the floor.

  “I’ll go back down and see if they have any other rooms available,” Zander offered.

  “It’s not a big deal, Zander. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.”

  Zander huffed.

  Okay, apparently he wasn’t ready to revisit that topic yet. He stared at her like she’d just uttered an unspeakable curse.

  “I’ll go back down and see about another room,” he said again before hightailing it out of the cozy bedroom.

  Megan sighed and sat down on the bed. “One step forward, two steps back.”

  She glanced at the bedside menu and frowned. The B&B had a café but it was only open for breakfast. Her stomach growled. She was in desperate need of a hot shower and a hot meal. Kicking off her boots, Megan padded to the en suite bathroom to satisfy one of her needs.

  Refreshed from a quick shower, Megan wrapped herself in a towel and headed back into the bedroom to change. She hadn’t been expecting Zander to be in the room and smacked into him. His arms circled around her, warm and steady. For a moment they just stared at each other, electricity crackling between them with each breath.

  Finally, Zander broke the spell and backed away. “Sorry. They’re full. We’ll have to share the room.”

  “Okay,” Megan murmured.

  “Okay.”

  After awkwardly shimmying past each other, Zander took his turn in the shower while Megan quickly dressed. She put on a vintage Bowie tee, her favorite baggy cardigan, jeans and the white oxford shoes she’d scored in Dublin. When Zander was ready, they grabbed their jackets and walked down the street to grab dinner.

  “This place looks fun,” Megan observed as they approached the little red pub.

  “Fitzpatrick’s is grand,” Zander replied.

  “You’ve been here before?”

  “I have.”

  “That’s all I get?”

  “Devon and I used to come here in the summer. There’s a surf camp not too far off. We used to come to Fitz’s for the music after a day at the beach.”

  Megan grinned, picturing teenaged beach bum versions of Zander and Devon tearing it up in Doolin. There must’ve been a trail of brokenhearted girls in their wake.

  Zander opened the door for Megan and right away she knew she was going to love Fitzpatrick’s. Traditional Irish music greeted her like an old friend as a trio of musicians serenaded the local crowd packed inside the warm little pub. Half of the patrons were singing along, raising their pints and belting out their favorite verses.

  Megan couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as Zander led her through the room. Her film critic’s eyes didn’t miss a thing. The crackling fire in the stone hearth, the old Irish advertisements for whiskey and beer, the vintage luggage and dusty instruments hidden in the open rafters, the seasoned taper candles dripping wax down the beer bottles that lit each table, the old wooden bar, polished to perfection. Fitzpatrick’s was a time capsule, capturing all the charm and allure Megan could’ve hoped to find in a seaside Irish pub.

  Zander shook hands with the host and they were led to a cozy table in the back of the dimly lit dining room. Megan was a bit disappointed they were seated away from the music and lively atmosphere, but when she saw the trays of mouth-watering food go by, her disappointment was quickly forgotten. And truthfully, the quiet room was a better setting, because clearly there were some things she and Zander needed to discuss.

  Megan ordered fish and chips and Zander ordered cottage pie. The food was phenomenal, and the pints of Guinness they ordered capped off the perfect meal.

  Megan savored the cool creamy taste of her beer. “Guinness truly is better in Ireland.”

  Zander nodded. “I agree.”

  “How do you know? You haven’t been to the states. Wait . . . have you?”

  “Ye know I haven’t,” he said taking a sip of his pint. “But I’ve been to other countries.”

  Like England. Megan took a big gulp of her own beer for a little liquid courage. “Zander, are we ever going to talk about what happened?”

  He distracted himself with his drink. “What’s there to say?”

  She gawked at him. “A lot.”

  He shrugged.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “If ye feel ye have to.”

  Megan wanted to scream. She wanted to shake Zander until he turned back into the boy she thought she knew. “What kind of answer is that? I mean since when did you start talking like you don’t give a shit about anything?”

  Zander stared into his beer.

  Megan reached across the table and took his hand. “Zander, it’s me. Just talk to me.”

  He didn’t look up.

  “Is it Tabitha?” Megan’s voice was barely a whisper. “If you want to be with her instead I can respect that, but ju
st tell me.”

  He finally looked at her, his eyes pleading. “No, Megan . . . that’s not it.”

  “Then what is it?”

  Again Zander drowned his answers in his beer.

  Megan felt her heart hammering as she prepared to ask the question she wasn’t sure she wanted an answer to. “Were you with her in London?”

  After a long while, Zander nodded and Megan’s heart sank.

  “Look, I don’t want to lie to ye, Megan. I was with Tabitha in London. I didn’t plan it, but I ran into her and . . .” he rubbed his face looking miserable and exhausted. “It was a mistake, Megan. I’m done with Tabitha. I know that now.”

  Megan looked at Zander, desperate to understand him. He hadn’t made her any promises. He wasn’t her boyfriend. But it still hurt to know he’d been with Tabitha while Megan had been pathetically pining after him like a lovesick teenager.

  She didn’t know where that left them. “What about us?” she asked. “Were we a mistake too?”

  “Megan . . .”

  “No. I know I freaked you out, Zander, but that doesn’t normally happen. I mean seriously, it doesn’t. It’s never happened when I’ve been with a guy.”

  Zander’s voice was tight as he pulled his hand away from hers. “But it happened when ye were with me.”

  There was so much pain etched across his handsome face that she wanted to crawl across the table and kiss it away until his crooked smile returned.

  “Is that why you left?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Zander?” Megan was unwilling to let it go. She couldn’t let him think he had caused her asthma attack. “Tell me why you left.”

  His head sank into his hands. “I left to protect ye.”

  “From what?”

  He looked up at her, his eyes green pools of despair. “From me.”

  Megan grappled to find the right words. “But that’s not what I want.”

  “Ye said it yourself. That’s never happened before.”

  “So we’ll slow down.”

  He shook his head.

  “Zander, I need you to know it wasn’t your fault. And it doesn’t change how I feel about you. I miss you. I-I want to be with you. And I thought you wanted that too.”