Five things, p.18
Five Things, page 18
When he presses it against my tongue, I close my mouth without thought, moaning when he pulls out. Our breaths mingle, and heat courses through me as my eyes zero in on his staring at my lips, the need I’m feeling reflecting back at me.
“Your proposition?” I croak out, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “What is it?”
“Right, yeah, that.” His eyes lift from my mouth, locking on my gaze. Nodding, I say nothing, waiting for him to elaborate. “I’ve been thinking, you and me, we can be mutually beneficial to each other for a while.”
“Big words, Maverick, but what do they mean?” I tease, a smirk tipping my lips.
“I wanna fuck.” I choke out a breath, not expecting the crassness that falls from his mouth, and with the way his gapes afterward, I don’t think he did either. “Wait, no. I mean, yes, I do. Fuck. I’m fucking this up. I had a whole thing planned but then you opened the door wearing my shirt and the only head I can think with is the one downstairs.”
“Your dick, you mean?”
“Shit, Bumblebee,” he hisses, his hand moving to readjust himself. My eyes dip, my cheeks flushing at the sight of the tent straining there. “No saying dick until I’m finished, okay?”
Bringing my fingers to my mouth, I mime zipping it. He nods, satisfied with my response for now.
“What I mean to say,” he starts, stepping back and pacing. “I’m so busy with the football season, and I don’t have time for a relationship—nor do I want one, right now I need to focus on school and football—but I do have needs and you have them too, and we can satisfy those for each other without the worry of things becoming serious. Because they can’t. Not with us.”
“What does that mean, not with us?” I ask, rubbing at the tightening in my chest. He turns to me, a slight frown on his lips before he resumes pacing. His other words send a trickle of heat through me, but I push it down. I need his answer first.
“Come on, Bea. You know realistically that you and me together is never going to work out long term. Not with all our history. And not to mention the drama between our families. This can’t exist outside of here, but I also can’t walk away from you anymore.”
“So, what?” I deadpan, pushing off the wall and grabbing his arm to stop his pacing. “I become your dirty little secret? The girl you won’t kiss because it means more but the same one you’re more than happy to slide your dick into when it’s convenient for you? Yeah, I don’t think so, Maverick.”
“Bea—”
“No, I’m not doing this. If that’s all you came for, you can see yourself out.” I move to the door, pulling it open, but he makes no move to leave.
“You aren’t letting me talk,” he says, but I just shake my head.
“Because your words are meaningless, please leave.”
“You don’t get it, Beatrice,” he says pushing the door closed. He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing back the strands that have fallen over his forehead. “All I’ve wanted for so long is to know that you suffered, just as I have. It’s ingrained in me to hate you because that’s what people expect. But I don’t. I can’t. But that doesn’t mean that anybody is going to be okay with this. With us.”
“I don’t care what anybody else thinks, and neither should you. Whatever this is, it’s between us, nobody else,” I say before his other words take root, fueling me with anger. “And what do you mean that you needed to know I suffered? You don’t think I’ve been suffering for the last few years?” A harsh laugh falls past my lips, and I push past him as his mouth opens and closes in quick succession.
Walking into my bedroom, I drop down to the floor, grabbing the lockbox from under my bed. I punch in the code, pouring the contents onto my sheets. Pills rattle in their bottles, and the journal my therapist insisted I start keeping flings open to a random page. My words are a jumbled mess, just like my mind when I’m writing them down.
Maverick walks in behind me, a harsh breath whooshing out of his mouth, but I don’t give him a moment to gather his thoughts.
“You have no idea what my life was like while you were gone. Did you know I couldn’t leave the house without having panic attacks? Or that for almost two fucking years the only places I went were the therapist’s office, the grocery store, and the fucking beach, at night, because I couldn’t be around people without breaking down? Now tell me again, how all you wanted was for me to suffer, you jackass.
“All I’ve fucking done for two years is suffer. Whatever thoughts you’ve had about me, my own have been worse. I told you that day back in the hall, but you didn’t listen. You are thriving while all I’ve done is drown. So now you get the final piece of my shitty little puzzle. You can leave. I hope you’re satisfied to learn that you got everything you wanted.”
“Bumble—”
“Leave,” I whisper, blinking a few times to hold the tears at bay. He lingers another moment, the tension rolling off his body suffocating me as he steps closer, his hand hovering over my shoulder. But I can’t. I can’t have him touch me right now. If he does, I fear there will be no putting me back together. “Please.”
He pulls away, the saddest sigh coming from him as he walks across the room.
It’s not until I hear my dorm door open and close, heavy silence following, that I crumple into a ball on the floor, pulling my knees into my chest as tears spill over my cheeks.
I don’t know how long I stay there, but eventually Maisie lets herself in, finding me on my bedroom floor. The pills and journal are still laying on my bed, and I know she sees them, her soft gasp breaching my ears, but I don’t look up.
Without words or judgment, she slides to the floor, curling herself around my body. She hugs me tight, her strength unwavering as she holds me together while two years of pent-up guilt, anger, and sorrow spill out of me.
Maverick
Nash drops into the chair beside mine, snagging my tray and dragging it toward him. He inhales the croissant I grabbed from the line, practically swallowing it whole as I stare into the distance.
“Hey, earth to Mav. You good, bro?” He snaps his fingers in my face, pulling attention to him. “She’s not here.”
“Stating the obvious, dickhead,” I snap before tipping the coffee mug to my lips. The bitter liquid is cold now, sour as it hits my tongue.
“What’s got your panties in a wad?” he asks. “You’ve been practically walking on water the last couple weeks, but now you’re grumpy as fuck, dude.”
“Nothing,” I lie, leaning back into the chair and moving my gaze over the room. Telling him about what went down in Beatrice’s dorm yesterday isn’t very appealing to me, knowing my oldest friend will have some shit to say about it. So instead, I blurt out the other thing I can’t stop thinking about. “I fucked Beatrice.”
“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.” He laughs, dropping his elbow onto the table and resting his head on his closed fist.
“You know?”
“Well, I guessed.” He shrugs, a smirk on his lips. “You just confirmed it. But given the way you look as if you’ve just heard some really shitty news, I’m guessing there’s more to this than that?”
Nodding, I tip my head back, my eyes lingering on the bright lights dotted around the ceiling. “I fucked up, I think.”
“What happened, Mav?”
Blowing out a breath, I close my eyes, not able to look at my best friend as I tell him everything that happened in her dorm. He says nothing, just listens, and by the end, his mouth is gaping and sadness lingers in his hazel eyes.
“Never once did I think about her feelings,” I say, twisting to look at him. “You were right, you know? I let everyone else tell me what I should have been feeling, and I never even gave myself a chance to hear her out or ask her why. She fucking destroyed me, and I don’t know why, and now I’m not even sure I want to hear the truth because what if it changes everything?”
“I don’t think she ever meant to hurt you,” Nash says, dropping his free hand on my shoulder and squeezing gently. “But I get it, Maverick. I get why you’ve clung to those feelings for so long. It’s easier that way, to pin the blame on her instead of looking at the whole picture. But now? I just hope that you both can find a way to move past all this and figure out how to live in each other’s orbits again or walk away from each other. For good this time.”
“What if we can’t do either?”
“Then you’ll truly be the ruin of each other, and that would be the greatest tragedy of all.”
Neither of us speak after that, staying silent until the table fills around us. Harlow slides into the seat beside mine, giving me a quick squeeze as she leans over to say something to Nash.
When Beatrice walks into the cafeteria, her eyes find mine across the distance. She pales at the sight of me, her eyes dropping to the ground as she rushes through the line, grabbing some fruit and a coffee before leaving as quickly as she came.
My chest hollows as my eyes follow her out the door, watching the exit long after she disappears.
I shove off the table, saying my goodbyes, and Nash rushes to follow me, his legs falling into step with mine. The double doors swing closed behind us, and I pause for a moment, my eyes dragging over the hallway, but Beatrice is long gone.
“You not going to class?” Nash asks, tilting his head toward my business class that’s starting any minute now.
“Nah, gonna head to the gym. You going to class?”
“And miss out on the chance to kick your ass?” he asks, puffing his chest and curling his biceps at me. “No fucking chance. Let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Beatrice
California gulls fly overhead, eyeing their prey as I wander down the pier. Waves lap against the sand beneath, beckoning it to sea. The breeze tickles my face, the frigid air harsh against my body despite the oversized gray sweater and black fleece-lined leggings I’m wearing.
My Chucks slap against the concrete, leading me to the rails at the end. My hands curl around the metal, my head tipping to watch the sun disappear behind the rain clouds that linger, a storm threatening to break through the darkening sky.
An elderly couple stops beside me, smiling as they take me in.
“You’ll catch a chill if you stay here much longer, there’s a storm brewing,” the gentleman says, wrapping his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “A young thing like you, you should be out with friends, not standing at the edge of the pier alone.”
“I don’t have very many of those.” If any, outside of Maisie, of course. The others, they’re Maverick’s friends, really. I have no doubts that if it came down to a choice between the two of us, they’d side with him.
“You wanna walk back with us, honey? I’m Mary, and this is my husband, Stan.” Her short gray hair blows in the wind. Stan tilts his head in the direction back, but I shake mine.
“I’m going to hang out here a little longer, I think. But thank you.” They nod at me, giving me a small wave before walking away hand in hand. My heart aches at the sight, though I don’t know why. I don’t know them, apart from their names, but there’s something bittersweet seeing two people so clearly in love.
Once upon a time maybe I would have had that . . . before my life burned into ashes around me after I lit the flame myself.
After I calmed down the other day, I couldn’t stop the train of thoughts barreling through me. I get it. I know I hurt Maverick back then, and I understand his anger and his hate. I nearly destroyed his life. But what nobody seems to understand is that I destroyed myself too. For so long I let Sebastian take control of me, abuse me, never thinking of what that would mean for those around me.
That day comes flooding back, bringing me to my knees as I drop against the concrete. A sob escapes me, my chest caving under the weight of the memory.
“Bumblebee!” Maverick shouts up the stairs, calling my name over and over again, but I can’t answer. My throat is too tight, my heart beating erratically against my chest as my eyes stay locked on the door Sebastian just stormed out of. Blood drips from the cut above my eye, blurring my vision as it clings to my lashes. “Bea!!”
The door opens with a slam, and Maverick freezes in the entrance when his eyes find me. What I must look like to him. A mess. A fragile little girl curled into a ball against the wall. Tears streaming down my face, blood pouring from wounds on my body.
“Shit, babe,” he hisses, moving quicker than I’d have ever thought possible. Within a second, he’s crouching, reaching for my face. “I’ll kill him, Bumblebee. I swear to God, I will kill him.”
“How’d I know I’d find you here?” Maverick drops down beside me, his legs swinging under the metal until they’re dangling over the edge of the pier. “You just disappeared.”
I don’t answer, too lost in the onslaught of emotions that have taken hold of me. He spits expletives under his breath as he faces me, his eyes following the line of tears that track over my cheeks. He swears again, dropping his arm across my back and pulling me to his side.
The scent of him hits me in an instant, assaulting every one of my senses, and it only causes the tears to spill harder. My body racks with tremors, my face molding to his chest as he tucks me closer. He whispers in my ear, comforting words, I think, but I hear none of them over the blood rushing through me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, pulling away when the tears have dried up. Swiping my sleeve over my cheeks, I ignore the foundation stains that soak into the light gray material, staring out into the ocean. “I’m so fucking sorry, Maverick.”
“I’m pretty sure I should be the one saying that.” He laughs, though it’s dry and without humor. “I really fucked up in your dorm the other day, and way before that, I think. We really made a mess of all this, didn’t we?”
“Seems like it,” I whisper. “Do you hate me?”
“I thought I did,” he answers, sitting up. He doesn’t move his arm from my back, but his fingers trace circles on my shoulder, easing the knotted muscles there. “I know I’ve said it before, but it was easier that way. When I look at you, I see the greatest mistake of my life. So, yeah.” He sighs. “It was easier to put that on you than to accept my blame in all that.”
“I never wanted you to do what you did. I’ve regretted letting you go that night every single day since.”
He sighs, repositioning us so we’re sat crossed-legged, facing one another. “Don’t you get it? The mistake isn’t beating Sebastian that night. Jesus, Bumblebee, I’d do that a thousand times over if it means you’re still here.”
“I don’t under—”
“It’s you, Beatrice,” he blurts, his hands creeping up to cup my face. “You are the greatest mistake of my life. You know, I loved you for the longest time, way before I ever knew what that meant. But I was so scared to tell you. I thought if we got together and things went badly, everything would fall apart.”
“Maverick,” I croak, my throat clogging.
“Turns out, in not telling you, it all fell apart anyway, huh?” His thumb caresses my cheek, heating the skin despite the bitter wind that whips around us. “If I had just stopped you going to him that first time, everything would have turned out different.”
“You don’t know that,” I tell him, tilting my head. “Sebastian was charming, sweet, and kind.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t defend him.”
“I’m not,” I insist, chuckling, even though amusement is the last thing I feel. “It’s nothing but the truth. There were no red flags when we first met, there was nothing that could ever suggest he’d turn into the person he did. It’s easy to look back and say we should have done things differently, now that we know the truth. But we don’t know what would have happened. You and me? We may have never worked out anyway, and I could have always found myself in his orbit.”
He opens his mouth, ready to say something else, but he clamps it shut, turning his head to the sea. The waves crash against the pier, and light rain begins to trickle over us, but I can’t peel my eyes away from him.
We sit there for a little while in comfortable silence, neither of us feeling the need to fill it with empty words. These used to be my favorite moments with him, just sitting quietly as we watched the world move around us. But, as will all moments in time, eventually it has to pass.
“Why’d you do it?” he asks. “Why did you retract your statement?”
Holding my breath, I close my eyes, dropping my head. This isn’t the first time he’s asked the question, but it’s the first time I’ve ever wanted to give him something . . . if only so he can try to move past it.
“I was scared, Maverick,” I answer. “It’s not an excuse, and I doubt it's the answer you want, or the one you need, but it’s the truth. It’s probably not something you can understand, and I don’t expect you to, but I can’t give you anything more than that.”
Opening my eyes, I turn to him, and his shoulders slump and his fingers tap along the metal rail. He seems so conflicted, and I wish I could give him the answers he wants, but I won’t. I can’t.
“I’ve been so caught up in my own shit that never once did I stop to think about that. I never doubted what he did to you, you know?” His eyes find mine then, so full of regret and sorrow that my stomach curdles. “I should have told you that. So many times before. I’m so fucking sorry that I didn’t. God, there are so many things I’m sorry for. How can you even bear to look at me?”
“Because I know you, Maverick. That day, when you found me, it’ll haunt me forever. I never wanted anyone to see me like that, least of all you. Your hate, your anger, it’s a lot simpler than the emotions I saw that night. I understand it, and for a while, I thought I really deserved it from you. And maybe I still do. If I had just stuck to the truth, things might be so different today.”
