Incomplete

by Eliza Park

  “Eighty-three.”

  She nodded, “I don’t think you should stop seeing him, that wouldn’t be healthy. But I’d caution you against becoming too intimate with him too soon. You could develop an obsession that may not turn out in your favor.”

  I stared down at my journal entry.

  “Celeste,” she said quietly, “I’m just trying to caution you against moving too quickly.”

  “I know.”

  “If you are certain and prepared for the potential of a long-term sexual relationship, go for it. But you’re a different person now and you might react differently to some of these things.”

  I wiped a tear from my eye, “I understand.”

  “Do you think you’re ready?”

  I thought I had been, but now I wasn’t sure. The theory Jenny proposed of nurturing an obsession hit a little too close to my conscious mind to ignore. I knew I needed to sort through how I really felt before I dove into a relationship. “I don’t know.”

  “That means you aren’t, Celeste. So, take a deep breath and think about what you want. For yourself, for your future, and think about his future too. Does he still have a tendency to save you?”

  “He doesn’t want to move too quickly either.”

  Jenny made a humming sound, somewhere between curiosity and approval, “Take your time, Celeste,” she said, her voice low, eyes pleading.

  I nodded.

  “Okay, now let’s talk about the memory therapy you’re going to start next week with Dr. Kroger.”

  Just keep breathing.

  ——————————

  The rest of the week remained average, and I reveled in it. All of my classes were large, not at all intimate, and aside from one incredibly fashionable, wonderfully smelling guy named Gabe in one class, I sat next to all girls. Classes flew by in a fury of notetaking and planning. I loved it, I absorbed it like a sponge, and on my last class of the day on Friday, I had my entire semester down to a science.

  I was one of the last to leave the classroom, which was not ideal, and walked slowly out of the lecture room and down the hall, scribbling so furiously in my planner about term paper due dates, I ran face first into a solid wall of male chest.

  My heart leapt into my throat with embarrassment as my planner and pen fell out of my hands, clattering to the ground. I avoided eye contact, bending to pick up my stuff and get out of there as soon as I could.

  A warm, familiar voice filled my ears and my eyes shot up, “Jesus, Ace, where’d you get this pen, the fucking gutter?”

  “Mav!” I breathed, my heart still pounding.

  He offered me a wide, handsome smile, and we stood together, my pen held lightly between his long fingers. He had the same duffel bag from last weekend slung over his shoulder, and was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a t-shirt, his university uniform.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, glancing around. “Don’t you have class?”

  “Yeah, I skipped the last one, wanted to beat traffic. I had my driver drop me off and take the rest of the night, figured we could do some walking.”

  I blinked at him, “Don’t you have practice?”

  Mav shook his head slowly, blue eyes glinting with amusement, “Not tonight, Coach has some strict rules about academics and athletics.”

  “Oh,” I breathed.

  “I thought we could hang out, go to dinner, or did you have plans?”

  I clutched my planner to my chest, trying not to glance down at what I’d written in for tonight. Mav would think I was insane for wanting to start a final project in the first week.

  “I’m free.” I brushed the fly-aways of blonde from my face and smiled up at him easily. I hadn’t really thought to write in date nights and other boyfriend-related things in the planner. I’d have to take a look again later, and hope I could schedule in some more time with him.

  “Hey!” A loud voice yelled, startling me, “Go Bulldogs!” An average-sized guy walked by us, his hand held in the air.

  Maverick’s large palm connected with his in a loud snap. He was grinning as the guy continued on his way, the interaction over.

  I raised an eyebrow in question, and he shrugged. “What can I say, I’m a hero.”

  I rolled my eyes and he fell in step next to me as we left the building. “I’ve never known you to skip classes before.”

  Mav looked at me sideways, “I skipped quite a few at Saint Bridgette’s.”

  I frowned, “You did?”

  Running a hand through his hair, he shifted his gaze away, surveying the other students, “Yeah,” he chuckled, “You don’t even need me and I’m still skipping classes for you.”

  It was a joke, but the concession fell heavy on my heart. I took his warm, calloused hand in mine, “I’m sorry you had to do that.”

  Glancing down at our entwined hands, he offered me an easy smile, “I didn’t have to, I chose to.”

  “You really shouldn’t skip class though. You have a law degree to earn,” I scolded.

  “Won’t happen again. Probably.”

  I let out a sigh and we walked hand in hand off of the campus and down the street to my apartment.

  “So,” he started, “Any guys try to hit on you this week?”

  I snorted, “No, no one even looked at me.” And that was the most ideal week I could have had.

  “I very highly doubt that. You’re pretty impossible not to notice. Especially with those glasses. Like a sexy fucking librarian, but in ugly ass shorts.”

  I frowned, biting into my lower lip, ignoring the latter half of his comment. He meant it as a compliment, and most of the time I was okay with the looks guys would give me, but something about being inside of a school this large in a sprawling metropolis with a bunch of other students made me too aware, too cautious. I just wanted to float through these years with as little attention as possible. But judging by the random Yale football fan in the hallway of NYU, I had a feeling I was stepping into a spotlight I wasn’t quite prepared for. “Do you get called out like that pretty often?”

  “Oh,” he said, faltering, “Um, not really. I thought it was more of a New Haven thing.”

  I didn’t respond as we stood in front of my apartment building. I punched in the numbers and we walked up the stairs, through the door to my little section of the building. “You alright, Ace? Was this too much of a surprise? I can go and we can plan something for next week.” He frowned then, standing just outside of my door, his duffel bag strap in one hand, “Well, next week is our first game. Sunday maybe?”

  I shook my head quickly, reaching out to grab his hand and pull him through the door, “No, Mav, I always want you here.” That was true, but whether it was true because I liked him or true because he’d been there at my darkest hour, I didn’t know.

  He stumbled into me, crescent moons forming in his cheeks. The door slammed shut behind him and he leaned forward, kissing me gently on the lips. “Good,” he breathed, dropping the bag to the floor, and pulling me against him by the waist, “I missed you.” His hand wrapped around the back of my neck, tilting my mouth up to meet his. “Did I mention you look good in glasses?” He murmured, mouth descending on mine. The movement was slow, sweet, his lips velvety soft, and I melted into him, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck with a sigh.

  We stood in front of my closed door for only a short while before he let me go, trying to step out of my embrace and chuckling when I wouldn’t relent. I had to think of a way to tell Maverick about what Jenny had said. It would be dishonest to keep something like that from him.

  “Ace, we got about two hours before our reservations, and although I could look at your ass in those ugly shorts all day, the restaurant has a dress code.”

  I released him then, frowning, “You’re springing not just a surprise date, but a surprise date with requirements?”

  “I was told it was the romantic thing to do.”

  “By whom?”

  “My mom…” he said sheepishly,
“She made the reservations.”

  I smiled at that and glanced down at the watch on my wrist, “You said two hours?”

  “Yeah.”

  I turned on the heel of my shoe, dropping my backpack off on the island counter, “And what are you gonna do while you wait?”

  Mav was watching me curiously, “Was wondering if I could use your guest bathroom.”

  I raised an eyebrow, “I could help you with that problem of yours, you know?” I said, my eyes wandering pointedly to his crotch.

  He grinned, “I won’t be desecrating your shower walls tonight, Ace.”

  My heart lifted into a heavy beat. Did he mean he’d be desecrating something else tonight? I skipped away into my room, trying not to bite my lip.

  I wanted it, but I wanted it the right way. And we’d been on a total of one date, two if you count the burgers in his room. This new football playing, beer drinking, university loving Maverick was still a stranger to me.

  Ninety minutes later I emerged into the living room. I’d taken the time to shave in all the right places until I could find a nearby waxing salon I trusted. My hair was dry and curled down to my ribs, and I’d even pulled out some of the new makeup I had, trying to remember the proper way to apply it after so long without. I’d settled on a smoky look, but with a nude lip, not wanting to worry about the lipstick, or lack thereof, by the end of the night. It had taken some real effort to shove my boobs into the skinny, silky black dress that flared and hung around my knees, having to go without a bra so I didn’t stretch the fabric, and the result was gently pornographic. If I wasn’t with Maverick that night, I knew there was no way I would ever wear it in public, despite the length. The only heels I currently owned were clad onto my bruised runners’ feet, and I thought I looked…okay.

  Maverick was sitting on the couch, flipping aimlessly through his phone, and when he heard the clack of my heels, he turned. Instantly the heat rose to my cheeks and I felt ridiculous. He stood, his jaw clenching, blue eyes blazing over my body. He wore a pair of fitted navy suit pants, a white button-down shirt, rolled to the elbow, and a printed navy tie. His hair was combed back, and he looked…delicious.

  “Fuck,” he said, rounding the couch and coming to stand in front of me. In heels I still only stood at his freshly shaven chin. “You look…” he shook his head searching for the right word, “you look like a fucking hooker.”

  I laughed, the sound nervously bursting from my body.

  He took my hand in his and kissed the knuckles on each finger, “You really look incredible, I almost don’t want to take you out.”

  “This took a lot of effort, Mav, and I’m starving.”

  His eyes raked down my body again slowly and I could feel that familiar heat building between us, “Mmm,” he said, gaze pausing on the neckline of my dress. “Are you wearing a bra?”

  In perfect timing, I shivered, and my nipples puckered against the fabric. He groaned then, lust filling his expression, “You should go put that t-shirt back on, I don’t think I can look at you in this all night.”

  I stepped closer, my heeled feet standing on either side of his brown Italian shoes, “You could take it off of me, if you want.” I touched the tie hanging down to his belt, running my fingers over the rough pattern. This was not what Jenny had suggested, but he looked so appealing.

  He lifted a hand, blue eyes blazing into mine as his thumb brushed slowly over my left nipple. I shivered again, heat pooling between my legs and watched the dam break in Maverick’s resolve. He bent forward, his lips meeting mine hungrily and lifted me from the ground. I wrapped my legs around his waist, linking my ankles and moaning while his tongue dipped into my mouth. He walked us over to the kitchen counter, his hands under my dress and gripping my bare ass cheeks. The cold granite touched my skin as he sat me down on the counter.

  “Fuck, a thong, Ace? You didn’t even give me a fighting chance.”

  I ground against the hardness under his zipper, and he moaned, one hand leaving my ass to link through the hair at the nape of my neck. His fingers brushed over the thin line of underwear between my thighs, and I gasped, gripping his dirty blonde locks. My heart was racing, pounding louder with each stroke of Mav’s hand under my dress, my breathing becoming ragged. His lips left mine to work their way down my neck, his teeth sinking into the sensitive flesh under my jaw. I felt one long finger stroke from my clit to the soaking hole between my legs and moaned loudly, feeling electrified.

  “You wet for me baby?” He said huskily and I froze.

  My body locked in place, my heart seizing at those five little words. Fear clutched my stomach and I felt sick, the sweat beading on my forehead and prickling under my arms.

  “Celeste?” Mav asked, his hands coming to rest on my hips. He peered into my face, but I couldn’t meet his eyes. “Are you alright? Shit, you’re shaking.”

  I looked down at my cold palms and realized he was right. My fingers trembled uncontrollably.

  His thumb and forefinger locked on my chin, gently pulling my face up to meet his eyes. “Celeste, look at me.”

  With effort, I dragged my eyes to his, trying so hard to calm the feeling surging through my body.

  “You’re safe,” he said, “You hear me? You’re safe.”

  Blue eyes. Blue, blue eyes. Not brown, not caramel, not full of rage and hate. Blue, kind, wonderful eyes that looked like the sky on a winter morning. I felt my body relax, my heartbeat slowly returning to normal, and I took a deep breath.

  Just keep breathing.

  Fear was replaced with embarrassment and I nervously ran my fingers through my hair. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  His finger brushed around the edge of my face, thumb skirting over my cheek, “You have nothing to apologize for.” He pushed the curtain of hair back behind my shoulder, “Do you have any other…triggering words?” He asked slowly, choosing the words carefully.

  I looked down at my hands, “I’m not sure,” I answered quietly. If I sat and really thought about it, thought back to those days in my cold dorm room with the unlocked window and the horrible, debilitating fear, I was sure I could think of a few phrases I never wanted to hear again. But I didn’t want to, not now, not when happiness was within my grasp.

  “No problem,” Maverick answered gently. He straightened his tie and smoothed his hair, a smile on his handsome face, “We’ll take it one day at a time, Celeste.”

  He helped me off the counter and I tugged at the sleeves of my dress, trying to pull the tight fabric up over my chest. I felt uncomfortable in it, almost naked. I wanted to change, wrap a blanket around my shoulders and crawl into bed. I fought the feeling, reminding myself to breathe.

  Just keep breathing.

  “I—,” Turning to Maverick, I fiddled with the sleeves some more, “I should tell you something.”

  His eyebrows furrowed together, blue eyes hooded.

  I swallowed, not sure how to get it out. My mouth wouldn’t move, and I leaned against the counter, willing my brain to bring the words forward.

  “Why don’t you tell me at the restaurant,” Maverick offered, reaching out for my hand.

  “Okay,” I breathed.

  He kissed me lightly on the cheek, “Breathe, Ace. Nothing you say could scare me away.”

  Chapter 34

  Maverick

  Celeste’s fingers wrapped around mine for the duration of our drive to the Upper East side. She was looking out the window with a hard expression, green eyes wide with worry. My mind was working at the speed of a dead turtle trying to figure out what the fuck she needed to talk to me about.

  It could have something to do with Eli. Maybe she knew I’d beat the shit out of him? Knew what I’d done to his family?

  Or maybe she’d found out who’d really sent her that white envelope in rehab.

  She didn’t seem pissed, only worried.

  I tapped my fingers on my knee until we arrived at the restaurant, nervous energy floating around in the backseat. We foun
d our table and before I could order a tall, sturdy drink, I saw Celeste prepare herself to share the big news. Her bottom lip fell open and her grassy greens watched me. She scowled and looked down at the hands folded in her lap.

  Fuck. This was going to be rough.

  “Am I going to need a drink for this?” I asked, half-joking.

  A short chuckle burst from her and I smiled. Her teeth sank into the pink flesh of her lip and I reached over to free it, my gaze on hers. Inhaling slowly, she straightened in her chair, “Okay,” she said.

  I waited.

  “Okay. Um.” Her mouth twitched and she hunched against the leather seat.

  The waiter appeared and I ordered a scotch. Neat.

  Celeste asked for a water.

  “I—.” She let out a breath.

  For fucks sake.

  “You’re killing me, Ace.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know where to start.”

  “In the middle,” I offered, leaning forward, and resting my forearms on the table.

  Her expression turned curious at that, head tilting to the side, “I’m obsessed with you.”

  I felt my eyes widen and then narrow. Running my hand over my face, I thought about what to say next. “Okay.”

  She went on, the words tumbling out like rocks in an avalanche, “During our senior year when all of that stuff was happening with—.”

  “Don’t say his name,” I growled.

  Her eyes grazed mine, but she went on, “Anyway, I started to do this thing called ‘memory distortion.’” Her hands flew up to tuck her hair behind her ears and she avoided making eye contact. “I would replace a traumatic event with an old memory.”

  “Okay.”

  “I would use memories of us. There was one in particular I really focused on, I must have been sober at the time. When we were in the Maldives before Junior year, and it started raining and you pulled me under a roof--.”

  “I remember.”

  She looked up at me, “Really? I think that was the only time you’ve been drunk.” She stumbled over a correction, “In front of me, that is.”

  “I’ve never forgotten a memory with you.”