Incomplete

by Eliza Park

  Lust.

  He quickly replaced it, eyebrows knitting together, “Didn’t I just get a postcard form you?”

  “I flew into JFK yesterday,” I said as he stepped to the side, letting me cross by him and into his small house. The floors were old hardwood, scuffed and dented from years of use. “I thought you knew I was attending NYU this fall?” My voice fell at the end of my question when I realized how many people were sitting and standing in the communal area. Five or six people cluttered around a worn leather couch and a few other pieces of used furniture. A blonde girl stood in the kitchen, her arms crossed, a look on her face that would have crumbled me several years ago.

  I glanced up at Mav who was staring at me like I’d stepped out of his fireplace with a bag full of presents.

  Would he have told me if he had a girlfriend?

  “No, my mom hasn’t told me anything about you.” He chuckled then, a low sound I felt at the tips of my toes. “Which makes sense, seeing as you’re here. Lucy loves surprises,” he mumbled.

  A tall thin man stepped forward from where he stood by the barstools in the kitchen, his skin the color of hot chocolate, and he held out a giant hand to me, “I’m Brody,” he said, his voice the kind of baritone that could bring down a stadium full of Frank Sinatra fans. “You must be Celeste.”

  I took his hand, unable to keep the warm smile from my face, “Hi Brody. You make me sound famous.”

  He responded by releasing my hand, leaning forward, and lowering his voice to a murmur, “More famous than Britney Spears in this house.”

  I grinned, mimicking his tone, “It’s the mental breakdowns. Guy’s love that shit.”

  His laugh boomed through the house and Maverick looked annoyed, his hand hovering over my upper back to gently guide me to the middle of the floor. “Alright so everyone, this is Celeste,” he said to the room.

  There were two other men there, and three girls, two on the couch and the grumpy blonde in the kitchen. Including Maverick and Brody, all of the men in that house were huge. Beyond my comprehension of massive. I had to wonder how my scholarly friend had managed to find such a Viking-like assortment of people.

  “Celeste,” he continued, his hand leaving its spot on my arm, “This is uh, everyone.”

  One of the large guys stood and I could see that his hair was completely shaven under his hat and came to shake my hand. He introduced himself as Logan, and the other guy as Noah, who also came to shake my hand, a gesture I thought was beyond gentlemanly.

  The girls were Ashley and Selena, as dictated by Maverick. Ashley was a very pretty, very skinny brunette with long hair, and Selena was a Hispanic girl with gorgeous dark eyes and long curly hair she wore in a braid down her back. They were both beautiful and I wondered how Maverick could have managed to stay single, if he had, if this was the control group to represent the rest of Yale.

  Grumpy Kitchen Dweller was haltingly introduced as Mia. The other girls had offered me polite smiles, but when I turned to Mia, I could tell I’d entered hostile territory. I’d experienced my fair share of angry, petty girls, but my stint at rehab with Emily and the subsequent friendships with my amazing cousins had restored my faith in my own sex. Mia, and maybe Ashley and Selena, already seemed to not like me.

  And I was fine with that.

  There was a moment of awkwardness following Mia’s lack of a greeting where no one really seemed to know what to do. Brody offered for me to come and sit down, and I turned to Maverick. “Actually, I was wondering if I could talk to you.”

  Mav nearly leapt at the opportunity, spinning back to the door, “Let’s go for a walk.”

  I waved graciously at the group of people I’d just met and followed him out the door, hearing it close behind him. He joined me at the bottom of the concrete steps, and we turned to look at each other.

  He let out a deep breath.

  I smiled.

  He smiled.

  “I fucking missed you, Ace,” he said then, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

  I leaned into his touch, “I missed you more, Cap.” The rough pad of his thumb brushed along my cheekbone, light blue eyes watching mine for just longer than a moment.

  He blinked and looked to the ground, dropping his hand to his jeans, and shoving them both into his pockets. Glancing back at the front of the house he started walking and I followed, wondering if he thought someone was going to chase after him.

  Someone like Grumpy Kitchen Dweller.

  “Are you hungry?” He asked me casually, “We’re only a few blocks from downtown.”

  “I’m starving,” I answered brightly, “I used to be too stoned to realize how crappy jet lag is.” I joked, trying to lift us out of this moderately intense mood, but Mav’s face remained stoic.

  “How are you feeling?”

  The question felt loaded, but I was certain I was the only one who felt it. He watched me with cautious curiosity, and I knew I couldn’t quite answer honestly.

  I was riding a wave of extreme emotion, constantly, and walking next to the guy I’d been trying and failing not to fall in love with for the last two and a half years was making those waves astronomic.

  “I’m okay,” I smiled, “Excited to start school next week.”

  “You have an apartment in the city?”

  “Yep, not far from campus. It’s super tiny, which is perfect because I actually don’t have a lot of stuff. My building superintendent is really nice. I thought about looking for a roommate but—.” I stopped, realizing I was rambling and not sure I wanted to finish that sentence out loud.

  But past experience has made me into a bit of an insane person?

  “I have a cousin who lives pretty close, and I didn’t want to…offend her.” I finished. True enough.

  We were walking down the sidewalk in his neighborhood, surrounded by tall green trees and other houses that looked just as quaint and full of college students as Maverick’s did. I glanced down at my worn Adidas tennis shoes; grateful I’d decided to wear them.

  “Do you have any late classes?”

  I thought for a moment, “No later than 2pm, I think.” My last class ended at 2 on Monday, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I wanted enough time after to potentially find a part time job, or maybe an internship somewhere.

  “You shouldn’t walk home when it’s dark out and it gets dark early here in the winter. I can come pick you up or send a car.” His voice was low as we crossed the street into the downtown area. It wasn’t busy, but college students still littered the sidewalks, laughing loudly and chatting amicably.

  “Mav, I can take care of myself,” I laughed, “And you’re not going to drive two hours for a two-minute car ride.”

  Maverick looked uncomfortable, like his skin itched. He didn’t say anything and kept his gaze ahead. A few silent minutes ticked by before he spoke again, looking down at me under the brim of his black cap, “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

  “Mostly okay,” I emphasized, trying again to joke my way out of the intensity. Physically, Maverick was miles away from the boy I’d grown up with, but emotionally, mentally, he was still just as crazy intense as he’d always been. I bit my lip then, releasing it to look up at him. “All thanks to you, really.”

  His eyebrows knit together, blue eyes roaming my face in confusion, “Me?”

  I nodded.

  Did he really not know what he did?

  “You got me out of there.”

  His expression was unreadable, and I continued, “Mav if you hadn’t said something to your dad I could have—,” I swallowed, “I could be in a very different place right now. You saved me. Multiple times. All through our childhood and at the academy. I’m—I’m sorry I didn’t recognize it before.”

  I was prepared to say more before I realized he’d stopped a couple paces behind me. I turned, confused, and my heart leapt into my throat. Cobalt eyes blazed with unfiltered longing. He took one small step towards me, his arm winding around my waist to pull me
roughly against him. I felt his fingers at the nape of my neck, threading through my hair to tilt my head up. His lips descended on mine, causing my heart to double its pace. A feeling of pure happiness began in my toes, ringing all the way through my body and awakening the part of my brain that had been dormant for so long. I’d forgotten how his lips felt against mine, a memory I’d been chasing since the last moment we’d disconnected. Kissing him was bliss, and I moaned into his mouth, hooking my elbows around his neck.

  The movement of his mouth against mine intensified, pooling heat in my abdomen and I felt the cool press of brick against my back. I fought the urge to wrap my legs around his waist, wishing his hands would wander down any other part of my body. I wanted him everywhere and I could tell he felt the same based on the hard bulge pressing into my stomach.

  He pulled away from me then, taking a full step backwards to put space between us. My mouth tingled with the sudden loss of contact and I brought my fingers to my lips, knowing my cheeks were a deep scarlet. An uncontrollable giggle bubbled out of me and I tried to swallow the rest of it.

  Mav looked unhinged. His breathing was ragged, black hat discarded on the ground by my feet, and he held his hand out between us like I was going to jump him.

  Which honestly sounded like the best possible course of action.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, taking a deep breath to calm the laughing fit I was trying to work through, “It’s just been so long, I don’t know why I’m laughing.”

  “Are you still medicated?”

  I let out a loud laugh, tilting my head back, “Oh my god, no!” I bent down to pick up his hat, “I haven’t been on anything since rehab. Not even birth control,” I said, “Not even ibuprofen!”

  He smiled, a light chuckle rumbling through his throat and ran a hand through his hair. The familiar gesture made me swoon. I loved that he was so like the Mav I’d known. I could only hope he was just as crazy about me as he had been…despite the giant suitcase of emotional baggage I was now carrying with me.

  “Okay, okay. I’m sorry I asked.”

  He looked down at the ground, finally dropping his hand to his side, “And I’m sorry I kissed you, I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

  “I’m glad it did,” I ran my teeth over my bottom lip.

  If there was anything I hated now that I used to love, it was surprises. But being kissed in New Haven by Maverick was a surprise I wouldn’t mind repeating eternally.

  His gaze was unreadable, and he stuck his hand out for me to give him his hat, fitting it securely over those dirty tousled locks. “No, I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Why? Do you have a girlfriend?” My voice was riding the line between jealousy and slight panic.

  “No, not really. No.” He didn’t meet my gaze, choosing to observe the buildings and people around us.

  I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest before realizing I probably looked as jealous as I sounded. I dropped my arms to my sides. “Sounds complicated.”

  The look Mav offered me was amused, but I didn’t quite get the joke. “You said you were starving, right?”

  A slow smile spread from the corners of my mouth, “Oh, absolutely.”

  He cleared his throat, “There’s a restaurant down here that makes really good burgers.”

  The dirty part of my mind that had recently, and I mean in the last three minutes recently been awakened thought of a few different comebacks for this like I’d rather have you and something about another kind of white meat.

  “Burger’s sound good,” I conceded.

  We strode the rest of the way to the restaurant without touching, the kiss apparently forgotten. I peppered Mav with questions about school and the internship he’d had at his dad’s law firm the last two summers. He talked about his classes with bridled excitement, but I could see how passionate he was about the topics. He’d always been a nerd with a hard-on for learning. Walking next to him, I noticed how much his gait had changed in the last two years. He had once been full of wild, undirected anger, but now he seemed calm, almost lithe. His expression was neutral most of the time, eyebrows relaxed, blue eyes clear of that rage I’d seen so often.

  The hostess led us to a booth in the back corner of the bar, cozied up to a cold brick wall. We took our seats and Mav checked his watch.

  “You gotta be somewhere, Cap?” I teased, “I didn’t think classes started until next week.”

  “I have practice in a few hours,” he said dismissively, “So I’ve got plenty of time.”

  I frowned in confusion, “Practice for what?”

  His blue eyes lifted from the menu held in those long fingers, “Yeah I’m captain and starting quarterback for the Yale Bulldogs.” He said it casually, but I could see the pride in his expression.

  My mouth fell open in surprise, “No shit.”

  Maverick’s pale pink lips smoothed into a smile, “I told you when I tried out.”

  “I thought that was a joke!”

  He lifted one shoulder in a noncommittal shrug, setting his menu down and tapping his fingers on the hard wooden surface. I watched, the sound and motion taking me all the way back to the academy where smaller, paler, less calloused hands made the same tapping noise during our study sessions in the Saint Bridgette’s library. He was anxious, anticipating something.

  “I’m guessing you like it if you’ve been playing for so long,” I offered. Despite the earth-shattering kiss he’d delivered to me not ten minutes earlier, Maverick felt weirdly distant, like I was waving to him from the shoreline of his mind.

  He shrugged. Again. Not even looking at me and I just about wanted to yell. I focused on my menu for a moment, wondering how I was supposed to read between these lines.

  “The first year was kind of a fluke, an accident,” He said then, and I glanced up at him, “I became the quarterback based solely on the fact that no one else was around and I’m pretty sure I’ve kept it for the same reason.”

  The Maverick I knew would never have joined a sports team, and I wondered how I’d missed that giant fact the last three years. He continued to talk about his team for a minute, tracing the menu with one long finger, and explained how they’d won three Ivy League Championships and would hopefully be on their way to winning a third. I marveled at the camaraderie he felt, the way he spoke about his teammates like they were brothers.

  “My roommate is a running back, and the other two guys who were there graduated a couple years ago,” He finished.

  The waitress came then, taking our orders and being sure to fawn over Maverick like the apparent collegiate stud he was.

  “And the girls?” I said after she’d left.

  “What?”

  “The girls,” I repeated, taking a sip of water, “The ones at your house? How do you know them?”

  Did I sound too jealous? I sounded too jealous.

  The waitress returned, setting a glass of amber liquid down in front of Mav and giving him a winning smile, “On the house, courtesy of the owner.”

  I stared.

  Maverick was barely 21 and I waited for him to send it back, knowing he hadn’t formerly been much of a drinker. Instead, he held it up to the bartender from across the room who yelled, “Go Bulldogs!” setting off a cacophony of cheers around the bar. He tilted it back, gulping down the foamy liquid, his Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes tightly shut. The glass hit the table with a thud and more cheers erupted around the room.

  Mav wiped the foam from his mouth with the back of his hand, a look of pain on his face, “I hate it when they do that.”

  “Impressive,” I said, very clearly not impressed.

  Okay, so maybe Maverick was not the same guy he was in high school.

  His eyes were glassing over from the sudden onslaught of alcohol in his system. No matter how many times I witnessed my family members drinking while I was visiting them, it still bothered me to be in the presence of someone who was under the influence of any substance.

  Blame r
ehab.

  “Anyway,” Maverick began, “The girls.”

  I took another drink of water.

  “Well, the brown-haired one—,”

  “Ashley.”

  His mouth fell open in hesitated surprise, “Yeah, Ashley. She and Logan are kind of seeing each other. And the other one—.”

  “Selena.”

  Another hesitation. This was the most eye contact I’d received from him since we sat down.

  “Yes, Selena is sort of seeing Noah.”

  “And Mia?”

  Maverick’s eyes left mine and he shifted in his chair, tugging on the brim of his hat. In any other instance, because of his aristocratic upbringing, he would have removed the hat when we sat down. But today he chose to keep it on.

  “Well, Mia is…” he searched for the words and I distracted myself by drinking more water. “She’s friends with Ashley.”

  He was seeing her. But he didn’t want to tell me.

  “So, all of the people in your house right now are kind of sort of seeing each other except for Mia and Brody and you?”

  He shifted again, leaning his elbows on the table. Another thing he’d never normally do.

  “Sounds complicated.”

  There was that amused look again. He was smirking at me under the brim of that ridiculous hat.

  “You know, Mav,” I said, “If you’re seeing someone, you can tell me. I might think you’re an asshole for kissing me while you have a girlfriend, but I can find it in myself to forgive you as your friend.”

  “Your friend.” He repeated, his voice suddenly lower.

  I ignored him, widening my eyes with fake shock, “Unless she’s a cheerleader. Oh, Mav, don’t tell me you’ve become an American Dream.”

  He lifted one eyebrow, the corners of his kissable mouth creasing with a smile, “Just a cheerleader? Come on, Ace, I’m the quarterback.”

  I rolled my eyes in exaggeration, grateful to see just a little bit of the cockiness creep back into his personality, “So, Mia’s a cheerleader?”

  Maverick’s smile shifted to a frown and he avoided my gaze again, “Mia’s not a cheerleader. And I’m not seeing her.”