by Eliza Park
“Are you fucking her?” The question left my mouth more quickly than I’d intended it to.
Maverick stared at me, gaze calculating.
It took me back to that moment in Saint Bridgette’s when Eli had just started to pursue me.
You fucking him? Maverick had asked.
“Would it matter if I was?” He said then, echoing my own response so long ago. His gaze was impenetrable, frozen on my face.
My eyes fell to the table. “No,” I answered, lying.
“We had an arrangement freshman year,” He admitted, “Then she, I don’t know, went crazy, and she’s been weird ever since.”
“Well, she probably likes you.”
His mouth twisted into a frown and he wiped his hand down the corners of his chin. “I’ve been with plenty of girls, Mia’s the only one with a problem.”
Plenty of girls. My stomach knotted and I swallowed the hard lump blooming in my throat. He had every right to be with as many women as he wanted to, I wasn’t his girlfriend. I had been, once upon a time, and I’d royally screwed that up. I couldn’t look at him and focused on calming the roaring jealousy and hurt I felt.
I felt his hand cover mine across the table, “None of those girls meant anything to me.”
I took my hands away and folded them in my lap, managing a weak smile. Now he was taking pity on me. He’d been practically ignoring my existence since we arrived, and now all I had was his pity. Pity I didn’t need or want.
“You don’t have to explain that to me.”
The waitress arrived with our food then, gazing lovingly at Mav as she bent forward, her ample chest taking up much more room than was necessary.
I scoffed out loud and her gaze turned to me sharply before she walked away in a huff.
Mav sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, surveying me. “I think I do.”
“Do what?”
“Have to explain that to you.”
I met his intense blue gaze, “You’re free to fuck anyone you want. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Clearly,” sarcasm dripped from his response.
I tilted my head to the side. “We’re friends.”
“Then why are you here?”
I scoffed, “I haven’t seen you in two and a half years, you don’t think that warrants a house call?” My stomach was churning, hunger and nerves forcing an annoying amount of pink into my cheeks.
He leaned forward, his voice a whisper above lethal, “You’ve been fucking off overseas for the last two of those years, Celeste. Other than the occasional fucking postcard, I have no idea what kind of shit you’ve been doing. Or who you’ve been doing. You made it pretty clear that what you do is none of my business.”
My mouth fell open in shock, “I haven’t been with anyone, Maverick.” I sounded on the verge of tears and attempted to steel my voice. The time for Mav to not be an asshole to me had passed. Apparently, I’d let that part of our relationship go as well when we’d broken up. “Not since Eli. Not since you.”
His jaw ticked at the mention of his name, and I understood why. There was a time when I couldn’t even say his name out loud, couldn’t think it.
I stood then, suddenly not hungry, the chair scraping out behind me. “I didn’t realize that after all this time I was still only bothering you with my problems.” I turned to leave, and his giant hand wrapped around my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. I yanked it free, anger radiating from my body, and heard him elicit a curse as I walked straight through the restaurant and out onto the street, pulling my phone out of the pocket of my jacket to call a cab. I knew he’d follow but kept walking down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of his house, holding the phone to my ear.
An operator answered on the other line just as the phone was ripped from my hand. I spun, glaring daggers.
Maverick held my phone gingerly in his hand, the other shoving his wallet down into his back pocket. His jaw was hard with annoyance and his eyebrows knit together angrily. We stood there, locked in a battle of glares before he took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “Fucking Christ, Celeste,” he breathed.
“Can I have my phone back?” I gritted.
“No,” he growled.
I strode by him, determined to walk the entirety back to the city if I had to. I had been running almost every day for well over a year and had walked longer distances in Ireland. I had no doubt I could survive the trek.
In a couple of very large, football player strides, he was standing in front of me, blocking my way.
“Move.”
“What the fuck do you want me to do, Celeste?” He asked, voice lowered so only I could hear, “You showed up out of nowhere after barely any contact. What were you expecting?”
“I didn’t have any expectations!” I almost shouted, “I just wanted to see you!”
He stared at me, the fury still lit in his blue, blue eyes, “That it?”
I threw my hands in the air, “I’m sorry, you were expecting something different?”
His gaze narrowed and he leaned forward, his face inches from mine, “I wasn’t expecting to see you at all.”
Maverick’s reaction should have frightened me, but I could never be scared of someone I so implicitly trusted.
I lowered my voice, “I’m sorry I showed up out of the blue, but Jesus, Mav, I don’t know why you’re so mad.”
“Because I fucking missed you, Ace.”
My teeth sank into my bottom lip and immediately his hand came up to pull it free. He let out a sigh, his mouth so close to mine I could almost taste the beer he’d downed earlier and took a step back.
“I’m sorry,” he said then, his voice an octave below normal, “For what I said. And for not being there.”
“What do you mean?”
He shifted his baseball cap, “If I’d stayed another semester, I wouldn’t have let him do that to you.” His expression was anguished.
“There’s nothing you could have done,” I protested, “Eli was a monster. A sociopath and a monster. Don’t blame yourself, Maverick, what happened had nothing to do with you. No matter what, he would have found a way to—.” I steeled my voice, “He would have found a way.”
His expression said everything I needed to know. He would always shoulder that blame.
“It doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s over now and I’m over it.” Kinda. “I don’t even know what happened to him other than that he can’t get into the U.S without being arrested.”
“You never heard anything?”
I shook my head, “As far as I know my dad paid a lot of money to keep it all under wraps. It’s like it never happened. But to them, I guess it didn’t.”
He shuffled, avoiding my eyes.
“Do you know something I don’t?”
He shook his head, “No, nothing.”
I stuck my hands in my jacket pockets and looked down at the ground, “I missed you too, by the way.”
Maverick looked thoughtful and he opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by a girlish shriek from the restaurant we’d come out of earlier. Our waitress appeared, boobs bouncing unrestrained above her small waist, a paper bag in her hand.
“I’m so glad I caught you!” She squealed, handing the bag to Maverick, “First practice of the season tonight, right? I don’t want you to play on an empty stomach.”
He offered her a grin and for the first time I saw half-moon dimples creasing into his cheeks. “Thanks,” he said, and I watched in growing disgust as his eyes roamed over her body slowly, “What did you say your name was?”
I think she would have blushed if the buckets worth of concealer hadn’t been plastered over her cheeks. I turned away, thoroughly grossed out, and started walking in the direction I had been, knowing he’d catch up to me after achieving whatever goal he had in mind. I wasn’t interested in hearing her name or her phone number.
His long legs were matching my pace before I could even cross the street.
“You get her number?” I asked casually.
The grin returned to his too-handsome face, “You jealous, Ace?”
“You wish,” I grunted.
“I do, actually.”
I glanced up at him. He’d become lighter in the last few minutes, and I had no idea why.
“We’re going the wrong way, you know.”
“I’m going back to the city; I don’t know what you’re doing.”
In one swift move he was in front of me again, blocking the way home. The sun illuminated him from behind, outlining his body in a warm yellow glow.
I sighed, “I get that you play football now, stop showing off.”
Mouth twisted into a small smile, he took my hand out of my pocket, bringing my fingers up to his lips. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”
I tried to focus on the words he was saying on not the tingling feeling of his mouth against my skin. “What?”
“You missed me?”
“I think I’ve said it twice today, actually.”
His blue eyes watched me, “Say it again.”
I raised an eyebrow, “I missed you.”
“How much?”
I smiled, “A lot.”
“Good. You’re coming home with me, and you’re going to finish this burger. And then we’re going to make plans.”
“Plans?”
He tugged on my arm and my body stumbled into his. Dropping my hand to hang around his neck, he wrapped his arms around my waist and bent forward, his hat shadowing both of our faces. “Yeah, Ace. Plans. I’ve been without you for nearly three whole years. You’re crazy if you think I’m going to let you walk away without at least a date.”
My eyes widened, “A date? Mav—.”
“Since when do you argue so much?” He murmured, lips brushing against my cheek.
My fingers gripped his muscled bicep, “I’ve changed a little.”
“Mmm,” he moaned against my neck, “and grown.”
His hands remained on my waist while his mouth explored the underside of my jaw. I knew what he meant. I was undoubtedly bustier, hippier, just more.
“I could say the same about you,” I answered breathlessly.
“There are parts of me,” I felt his hands move up my back, one cradling the nape of my neck, “That have really grown.”
I erupted into laughter and saw his answering smile as he pulled back. That was the grin I remembered. The grin I had turned to in my darkest hour. Perfect, pearly white teeth, pale smooth lips, that sharp, edible jaw, and the bright sky-blue eyes.
He pulled away from me then with a groan and I straightened my jacket, noting with delight the telltale sign of an erection in those blue jeans.
“I can’t seem to keep my hands off of you,” he said, taking my hand in his and turning us both to the direction of his house.
“No one asked you to.”
He shook his head, eyes on the sidewalk, “I don’t think we’re ready for that yet.”
“So,” I exhaled, “Yale have a decent library?”
He laughed, “You really are different.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
His gaze roamed down my body appreciatively, “As far as I can see, it’s a very good thing.” He went on after a moment of me blushing furiously, “For one thing, your memory is impeccable.”
“Crazy what therapy can do.”
“You’re really…lucid.”
“It turns out drugs really aren’t good for you.”
He chuckled, “You haven’t told me anything about your trip to Ireland.”
“Oh, right.” There was so much to unpack about that trip, a lot of it I didn’t quite understand myself yet, “I met some family members, did a lot of walking and sightseeing. Went to Trinity College for a bit.” There wasn’t much else I could say. Weekly, sometimes bi-weekly video chats with my therapist, a whole lot of crying, journaling, unanswered questions, and a growing desire to change the past was what I really took away from that trip. And running. Lots and lots of running.
“You went to the University over there?” He asked, eyebrows raised.
“Yeah, for about a semester and a half. My grandparents wouldn’t have let me go if I didn’t have a good reason.”
The rough skin of his thumb brushed over my knuckle. “You seem really happy.”
“Well, I am having an exceptionally good day.”
The conversation was easy on the way back to his house and when he arrived, he glanced around, confused. “How…how did you get here?”
“I took a cab.”
He looked at me, astonished, “You don’t have a driver?” He pulled his phone of his pocket and wordlessly handed my own back to me. “I can find you one, give me a minute.”
“No,” I almost shouted, “No, I don’t want one. I prefer cabs.” I wasn’t sure how to explain to him how little I wanted to do with my parents and the enormous fund they’d compiled for me. It was untouched in an account still and I hadn’t decided what to do with it.
Maverick watched me under his hat, his expression curious.
The front door swung open then and a couple of guys stumbled down the steps in front of us. One of them slapped his hand on Maverick’s shoulder, “See you soon, Captain.”
The other eyed me up and down, whistling in appreciation, “Damn, Cap, please tell me this is your sister.” He stood in front of me, a little too close, and I bristled in reaction, feeling immediately uncomfortable.
“Keep moving, Jones,” Maverick growled, shoving the guy forward with a large hand.
The men wandered off, grinning, laughing, and glancing back at us.
“So, I guess I’m not the only one who has a nickname for you.”
Maverick grimaced, “Yeah, they can be a little much sometimes.”
We walked up the steps and he opened the door for us to walk through. Despite having just watched two more men I’d never seen before leave; I was surprised to find the house fuller than it had been before. Large men were towering over one another in the tiny living room, watching something loudly on television. Not long ago, this would have been the exact definition of my worst nightmare.
The room fell silent when we entered, save for the sound on the television. I’d gotten used to receiving stares after rehab, and assumed it came down to people being able to tell when a person had been through something shitty. My damage was written all over my face, but I tried not to let it get the better of me.
“Damn,” a voice said, and I felt Mav take my hand again.
“No shit, where the hell you been hiding her, Captain?”
Mav shook his head, and using a stern voice I’d never heard before, scolded the entire room, “Watch your fucking mouths.” I started at how much he sounded like his dad. Laughter erupted through the room and I heard a girl whine but couldn’t spot the culprit. He led me to the back of his house, pushing open a white door and gently leading me through it before closing it behind him. He set the food on his desk, muttering something unintelligible.
The room was so purely him. He had a very large bed on a platform with a wooden slatted headboard, a dark wooden desk with books and notebooks scattered across the top, a metal framed bookcase covered in worn, well-loved textbooks and classics, and absolutely nothing on the walls, save for a single poster with the Yale football schedule. I walked over to the desk, brushing my fingers across the wood, and froze, spotting a picture of Maverick and I from the trip we’d taken with our families the Christmas break of our junior year. You could tell I was very drunk in that photo, sticking my tongue out at the camera, eyes squinting. A young Maverick was staring at me, a look of pure adoration on his face.
Maverick’s large, warm body invaded the space behind my back, and he chuckled when he saw what I was looking at, “It’s one of the only pictures I have of us.”
“You asked me to be your girlfriend on that trip.”
“I—you remember?”
I turned slowly to look
up at him, placing a hand on his chest, “I do. You have no idea how much I regret forgetting that moment.”
He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against mine, “Fuck.”
I grinned, “Sure, how much time ya got?”
His blue eyes opened, hands cupping my face, and I held my breath, wondering if he was going to kiss me for a second time that day. He straightened, pulling boxes out of the paper bag, and peeking into them before handing one to me. He pointed to the chair sitting in front of his desk, “You, sit there.”
“Yes, sir.” I said, propping open the box on the desk. “Thanks for lunch, by the way.” I took a bite of the burger and moaned, covering my mouth with one hand. Closing my eyes, I savored the bite, enjoying every single delicious flavor that covered my tongue. I had missed greasy American food so, so much.
I opened my eyes again to take another bite, enamored with my burger.
Maverick was watching me with hooded lids. He blinked and started working on his own food, perched on the bed with the box balanced on his lap.
“So,” I said after a few bites, “You mentioned something about a date?”
He grinned, propping a fry between his teeth. “Yeah, you busy this weekend?”
I shrugged, “Which day did you have in mind?”
“I have a thing in the city on Friday night, but Saturday I’m free.”
“What kind of thing?” I asked. My burger was gone, and I used a couple of napkins to wipe off my fingers before picking at the fries.
“Bachelor party.”
It was such a natural thing for him to say, but I couldn’t help feeling surprised. He was old enough to know someone who was getting married. We were so young still, how was that even possible? “You guys staying in a hotel Friday?”
“Yeah, why, you have a better option?”
I lifted a shoulder, smiling down at the French fry in my fingers, “I was thinking you could come over Saturday morning, but I do have a guest room.”
It didn’t have a bed, but I chose not to mention that particular fact.
He folded up his box, eyes flashing to mine, “Are you inviting me to stay the night already, Ace?”
I picked up my phone, redialing the cab company’s number and shot him a smile, “Not like we haven’t done it before.”