Incomplete

by Eliza Park

  “We’ve been trapped in this institution together for almost three years, and somehow we’ve never officially met.”

  It was a surprise to me that he even knew I existed. I nodded in agreement, “I guess you’re right. We’ve had plenty of classes together.”

  “I know,” he said, fingers resting calmly on his desk. “But no opportunities.” An easy grin spread across his face and he pointed at my notebook, “It looks like you didn’t take any notes, you must have a really good memory.”

  I almost coughed out a laugh, “Oh yeah, I was just distracted. Hopefully the information from the first day isn’t on any tests?” What else could I say? Actually, there are giant gaping holes in my brain where memories should be stored but I haven’t been able to hold on to them since I was five.

  Eli spread his mouth into a pitying grimace, “Well our professor did mention quite a few pop quizzes, but don’t worry,” he said, sitting up in his chair, “We’re lab partners, so I won’t let you fail.”

  “That’s very nice of you.”

  His body leaned sideways, his face closer to mine than it had ever been, “Well, if you fail, I fail. And as pretty as you are, I won’t risk my GPA.”

  I laughed, my brain clutching onto that tiny compliment with a furious grasp. Pretty. He thought I was pretty. “That truly is the most considerate thing I’ve heard all day.”

  “So,” he started then, sitting back in his chair but looking at me with a sideways gaze, “How long have you and Lockwood been together?”

  I blinked, averting my gaze to the wooden desk, “Oh, uh, we aren’t, actually. Together.”

  “Really? He acts like you are.”

  “Um, yeah.” I didn’t have anything else to say. I didn’t know why Mav was suddenly so openly affectionate. “I think he’s just being overprotective. We grew up together.”

  “Oh, so he’s like a brother to you?”

  I couldn’t keep the laugh that bubbled out of my mouth, “Oh, god no.” Seeing the question in Eli’s mind, I tried to eliminate any further discussion, “We’re just good friends.” Hugely understated, but that would have to do.

  He shrugged, seeming to accept it, “Okay, so what class have you got next?”

  I thought about it for a moment, my brain running through the process to pick up even an inkling of what it could be. “English, I think.”

  Eli smiled and I felt my entire being warm with the expression, “Can I walk you there?”

  Another surprise, “Oh, sure.”

  The grin never left his face, even when the bell rang and he stood beside me, waiting for me to pack my bag. We stepped out of the classroom and I noticed for the first time that his teeth were slightly crooked on both sides of his mouth. It was perfectly imperfect and remarkably charming. His caramel eyes held my own green ones and that warm feeling returned, making me feel indescribably cozy. Neither of us said anything for a while as we walked down the red-bricked, one hundred-year-old hallway. When he did speak, despite the distant noise of lockers slamming, shoes scuffing, and voices upon voices, all I heard was him.

  “Have you been to any of my soccer games?”

  I tucked the hair behind my ears, feeling foolish and girly and weird, clutching my book to my chest, “I have, actually.”

  “Do you think I’m any good?” He flashed me his brightest grin, nearly toppling my already wavering stability.

  I quirked an eyebrow, “I don’t think I’d be a good judge. Does it matter to you what I think?”

  He angled his body towards me, hands in his pockets, eyes pausing on my mouth, “Very much.”

  I tried to tell my brain to tone down the physical reaction I was having towards him, knowing it was flat out ignoring my request. “Well, next time you play I’ll be certain to pay more attention.” I glanced around us, realizing we were somehow very suddenly only a few feet from my next classroom. “You’re going to be late for your next class.”

  He gave me a small smile, his warm eyes on mine, ‘I’ve got a free period.”

  “How did you manage that?”

  He shrugged, “More time to focus on soccer training.” He looked vaguely sad, or disappointed, and I hated it.

  I was frowning, wondering how he could spare an empty block with three semesters left till graduation. Before I could ask, he tilted his body away from me, swaying in an adorable and mildly awkward way that made me want to laugh. “So, I noticed you like to spend your lunches in the library.”

  My whole body went numb.

  “But I was wondering if you’d like to sit with me, and we can discuss our first Chem project?”

  I tried to hide the surprise from my expression, “We were already assigned a project,” I said flatly.

  “No,” He was chuckling at me, “No I just thought maybe we could discuss the potential of it.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped on it a few times before holding it out for me to take. “And we should probably exchange numbers…seeing as we’re lab partners and all.”

  I punched my number in, smiling down at the screen, then handed the phone back to him. He backed away from me slowly, sliding his phone into his pocket and offering me another wide grin, “You really ought to pay more attention in class, Celeste.”

  I watched him for a moment, enjoying the way his body moved, the way he seemed to be the only one who looked unbearably attractive in the navy and white school uniform. I sighed before walking into my classroom, finding a seat in the back, and turning to my fantasies for another 90 minutes. I drifted in and out, grateful for the implied droning of the professor on the first day back to class.

  It wasn’t until I was on my way over to the on-campus dorm that I realized the whole day hadn’t been a dream. The wind bit into my skin through the heavy coat I’d shoved into my locker and shocked the day back through my bloodstream.

  Maverick was leaning against the door frame of my room with his head pointed to the ceiling, eyes closed.

  “Hey, Cap,” I said in a friendly greeting.

  Just good friends.

  His chin fell, “You should give me a key to your room, Ace.”

  I spit out a laugh, jamming the key into the lock, “And why would I do that?” I pushed through the ancient wooden door into my room, switching on the lights and glancing around. I hadn’t been here in a couple of days and before that it had been several weeks while our families had vacationed in…oh where was it. Germany? It was their idea to shell out for a private suite in the dorms, whether to make me more comfortable so they wouldn’t have to deal with me as often over school breaks, or simply because they felt that our shared last name warranted the treatment. I didn’t know but I would have preferred a roommate. Which is unmistakably why I spent so many nights huddled in the school before sneaking into Maverick’s suite. His parents would offer up any amount of money to keep their son looking and living as luxuriously as possible, but his room was nearly identical to mine in everything but decor.

  My pristinely made king-sized canopy bed sat in the corner of the room in front of a window, raised on a platform by just a few steps to separate it from what was basically a studio apartment. The bathroom was off to the left, with a broad shower and a claw-foot tub that had never been used. There was a small sitting area in the center of the room that included a cozy couch, a love seat, a rug, and a coffee table. A large roll top desk was perched in front of a giant arched window that overlooked the grand circular driveway to Saint Bridget’s. It would be cozy if it didn’t look like an architectural digest had thrown up all over a royal, medieval suite. I had no hand in the furniture or decor that came with the room, I simply showed up and ignored the splendor.

  The door shut behind me, signaling movement from me to act like I truly lived in the space we were standing. I strode to the center of the room and pulled off my jacket, tossing my backpack onto the large gray couch that had been sat on maybe once, and not by me.

  “Why wouldn’t you?” Maverick countered, walking around the r
oom, taking in the untouched bed and perfectly organized closet. “Jesus,” he grumbled, “Have you ever actually slept here?”

  I smiled, “You kind of answered your own question there, boy genius.”

  He scowled at me. Maverick hated being called a boy genius. It wasn’t the genius part that necessarily bothered him, but the boy.

  “How did you avoid getting caught in the girls’ dorm, anyway?”

  He shrugged and fell casually into the love seat, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair. It stuck up in thick darts and he closed his blue eyes, his other hand hanging limply at his side. He had the inherited ability to control any room with nothing more than an attitude and the charm to follow. He’d make a great business mogul someday, or the cutthroat lawyer his father was lining him up for. Maybe even a Senator like his uncle, or a CEO like my own dad. Somehow with his presence, the room felt homier than it ever had. In the halls of Saint Bridget’s, Maverick was like a tightly wound coil, stalking around the place with a grim expression and a brain full of vitriol. But in the privacy of our own rooms, he was relaxed, uncontrolled, and I could see the wave of stress that rolled off him as he rested his head against the back of the couch. “Oddly enough, your resident nun was out this evening.” He smiled at me, his perfectly straightened teeth in the center of his symmetrical jaw.

  I snorted and wandered over to the desk, touching the polished wood with my fingers. Had I really not sat at this desk in three semesters? It reminded me of the same wood my father’s executive desk was made of. The one in his study with locks on every drawer, neat stacks of paper held down by a pure golden stapler. I shook my head to get rid of the unnecessary memory. This weird day and all of its weird things had shaken me from this world and tossed me into another. There were things about my life I was certain about. One of them was that Elliott Ramirez did not know I existed and never would. Another was that I hated this room and everything it represented. I glanced back at Maverick on the couch, suddenly confused. “What time is it?”

  He lifted his Rolex to the front of his face and dropped his hand down again to the couch. “It’s after 6.”

  Already? Where had my time gone? How long have we been in this room? “What are you doing here?”

  He opened his eyes lazily, tilting his head back to look at me. “You’ve been strange. You haven’t responded to my texts at all today, and to say that you were fucking distant in the library would be a massive fucking understatement.” He sighed heavily before continuing, “This was the last place I was going to check before alerting campus security.”

  I rolled my eyes, “You’re being a little over dramatic.”

  Maverick’s blue eyes watched me with a calculating look I knew too well. I folded my arms across my chest and challenged his gaze with my own, waiting for an unfiltered list of my ever-evolving shortcomings. After a minute he stood and took a few long strides over to me. He lifted a hand to recreate the earlier motion of tucking my hair behind my ear. I watched him curiously. “Do you remember winter break at all, Celeste?”

  I blinked at him, “Of course.”

  His eyes narrowed and his pointer finger traced a line from my ear to my chin, “The New Year’s party my parents threw in Aspen, you remember that?”

  I flinched. I tried not to, but I flinched. I had forgotten we were in Aspen for New Years. How had I forgotten that? It made sense. I remembered mountains, but I couldn’t remember flights. It was only five days ago, the day before the train ride when we’d flown back into Switzerland. I shook away the idea that I’d forgotten too much. Every holiday was so crazy with flights and delays and layovers, it was understandable that I would get them confused. “Yes, I remember,” I said aloud, unable to convince myself. “It was at that resort and we split a bottle of something.” I ventured with a vague memory of an empty bottle, “Tequila?”

  Maverick’s face was a hard mask and his thumb brushed over my cheek as he looked down at me with those frosty eyes. “Scotch. Do you remember what we talked about?”

  I smiled, knowing I’d probably fucked up again. I’d learned before on a few occasions that mixing pills with alcohol never ended well, but ply me with a dark liquor and any previous resolve I had would dissipate fairly quickly. “Of course, so how could you expect me to remember anything?” I backed away from him, trying to sound amused and walking over to the bed. I pulled off my sweater and watched his scan my bra and torso. I was hoping to distract him, drift him away from the subject and under the covers. He followed me, his hand on my waist while the other brushed the hair away from my neck. He kissed me softly on the neck and I closed my eyes.

  “Did you eat today?” He murmured into my skin.

  “I was a little preoccupied with lunch, if you remember.” I smiled, unzipping my skirt and pushing it down over my hips. Whatever he was trying to say felt too heavy for what I knew we truly wanted from each other. Present Celeste was not in the mood to deal with Past Celeste’s many misgivings.

  His gaze wandered down me hungrily, thumbs hooking into the waistband of my tights. I sat back on the bed, my eyes locked on his as he pulled them, along with my underwear, from my body. Unhooking my bra, I tossed it to the floor and sank my teeth into my lower lip. Maverick was on top of me in less time than it took to blink, his sweater and undershirt discarded. His limbs were warm and muscular, familiar, as they wrapped around my back, a hand tangling in my hair. His mouth was on my shoulder and neck, biting and kissing and sucking.

  “I hope you don’t have homework,” He said gruffly.

  I grinned as my head hit the previously immaculate bedding, thoughts of our conversation obliterated with each fevered kiss.

  Chapter 2

  Maverick

  Fucking Celeste.

  Blonde hair tangled down her back as her head rested delicately on a feather pillow. Her eyes were closed, hiding the constant war that raged behind her green gaze. Some days she could be an absolute fucking nutcase, a total wild card, drifting in and out of idealistic realism. But for the most part she was just Celeste. The one I’d known my whole life. Clever, unstable, emotionally unaware, and a fuck ton of fun. I tore my gaze away from her bare shoulder.

  What was it my dad had called her years ago?

  The unfortunate result of parental neglect and experimental pharmaceuticals.

  I pulled the laptop out of my bag and propped it open, the blue light illuminating the pitch-black room. Shaking my head, I wondered how a suite designed to be aesthetically calming could feel so cold and unwelcome. Even the staged rooms in Williams Sonoma were more intimate than this. I couldn’t blame her for wanting to stay anywhere else, it probably reminded her too much of home. Her closet was full of clothes that still had their tags, mostly uniforms, but piles of neatly folded cashmere and designer jeans I doubt she even looked at. The skirt she’d worn today had a small cardboard tag hanging from the zipper and I had to assume it was the first one she’d grabbed this morning. I closed my eyes for a moment and rested my head against the headboard, briefly replaying the scene in the library.

  They pumped enough drugs into that girl to kill a horse.

  She’d gone elsewhere during sex before, to that spot in her mind that existed between the real world and some other celestial dimension. Normally I had no trouble snapping her out of it, but today I hadn’t noticed until it was too late. I’d closed my eyes, inhaled the smell of her hair, enjoyed the simplicity of the fuck. I’d even gotten off too quickly, something I always tried to avoid. It was becoming more difficult recently, but I tried not to focus on the reason why. I pulled on my hair, opening my eyes, and rubbing a hand down my face. My problem had only increased in its intensity since New Year’s and the life changing conversation with the girl I had unwillingly chosen to fall in love with. The life changing conversation she couldn’t fucking remember.

  I didn’t know how to be a good boyfriend, but apparently I sucked so bad at it, Celeste had forgotten that’s what I was. Not that I could truly blame her.
She’d been heavily medicated for some traumatic experience since she was in kindergarten and as a result her brain could occasionally be more like a bowl of burnt oatmeal.

  I risked another look at her sleeping form, gently lifting a thick strand of blonde off of her cheek. I fucking loved her the most in moments like these, when she was naked and tired, lying next to me and everything was quiet. It was why I purchased whisky in bulk to bribe the alcoholic nuns standing guard in the girls’ dorm. For the last year, I’d been able to picture our futures so vividly. We would share an apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. She could do whatever the fuck she wanted—write, bartend, go to school, I didn’t fucking care, and I would rise to the top of my dad’s law firm, become a partner before I was thirty. We would spend our evenings fucking and eating amazing food, talking about our shitty academy days. And I would wake up next to her, like this, until our bones started to crumble, and our skin sagged. But even then, I had no doubt she’d still be a great fucking lay.

  And I would take care of her. She wouldn’t lose big chunks of her life and exist in that unnatural state of constant confusion. We would go to every specialist in the country, in the fucking world. I’d get her away from her viciously neglectful parents, whose attention was arguably worse than if they’d simply chosen to ignore her.

  My laptop was warm against my legs through the heavy blanket, and I logged in, opening up a drafted document to begin my research paper for Psych. It was only the first day of the semester, but I already had a subject, and I always needed to be ahead of the homework game so I had time for Celeste-related extracurriculars.

  She let out a long sigh next to me and I knew she was finally at peace in another world. The heavy blanket rested beneath her shoulder blades, and I wondered if the shadows were playing tricks on my eyes or if she was gaunter than she had been. I rubbed my temples in frustration, trying to remember the last time I’d seen her eat anything. It had been days. Since before we boarded the train back to the academy. She’d even refused the fruit in my car, choosing to sip at a bottle of champagne and glower at the walls.