Shecan’twin. Not again. Not ever.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MAEVE
Sunday, December 19th
The snow is coming down so hard that it’s just a mass sea of white outside, making it impossible for us to try leaving Indianapolis today. I hadn’t even gotten as much as a breath out before Tatum decided it wasn’t safe to drive and went down to the front desk to book us another night’s stay. The perfectionist in me wants to freak out at the delay in our timing, but I don’t say anything because I know he’s right.
While he’s gone, I raid the alcohol stash from the mini fridge in the corner of our room, which consists of a bunch of mini bottles. I know we’ll have to pay extra for these when we check out, but that’s tomorrow Maeve’s problem. If I’m going to be trapped in this room for another night, I might as well have something to mask the nerves that threaten to tighten my stomach in a vice grip.
Pinot grigio. Tito’s. 1800.
There’s even a few beer cans.
I hear Tate come back in the room as I finish rummaging through the fridge, filling my arms before turning and closing the door with my foot.
“Wanna play never have I ever?” I ask, gesturing toward the tiny bottles of liquor in my arms as I raise a brow toward him. “It’d be a good way to get to know each other.”
His laugh is weak as he pushes his glasses up his nose. “You might be disappointed.”
“Why?”
Tate’s hand circles around to scratch the back of his neck as he glances down at the floor. “I’m, uh…boring?”
His words almost make me snort, because of all the ways to describe him, boring is not one I would use. He’s probably the least boring person I’ve ever met. If anything, I have the most fun trying to crack through his little, shy shell that he hides behind, like a game of how much I can get him to open up to me. And when he does speak, it’s either a random fact or the stuttering he does when he’s trying to talk and look at me at the same time.
“Nope,” I say, bouncing on the balls of my feet. “I won’t accept that. We’re playing.”
Centering myself in the middle of the room, I plop down on the carpet and carefully let the bottles fall from my arms into my lap so I can place them in front of me. I pat the floor as I glance up at him expectantly, and it’s almost cute the way he swallows thickly as he watches me for a moment, like his big brain can’t comprehend that I’m asking him to play a stupid drinking game with me. My lips form a thin line to keep from smiling at his reluctance, before he finally takes a seat in the spot across from me.
“Okay, if youhavedone said thing, you drink.”
He nods, his lips pursing as he chews at them with uncertainty.
Biting down on my bottom lip, I try not to let it show just how excited I am to play this. Of course I want to know all the juicy details about the quiet, six-foot-something hottie, but he doesn’tneed to know that. Pulling out my phone, I quickly search a list of questions, because it would be even more blatantly obvious if I were to just ask them outright.
“Never have I ever…” I pause for dramatic effect, “gone skinny dipping.”
Twisting open the pinot grigio, I take a large sip before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, unable to contain my snicker as I peek back up at Tatum, who hasn’t moved.
“Never?” I ask incredulously.
“Never,” he repeats my words, his pink cheeks darkening.
“Never have I ever…gotten a speeding ticket.”
Neither of us moves.
I snort. “I don’t even have a car.”
The laugh that filters through his full lips is louder than I’ve ever heard from him before, and he immediately notices as he tries to cover it by clearing his throat. I pretend to pay no mind as I scroll through the list for the next question.
“Ooo. Never have I ever…been in love,” I whisper in faux suspense.
And again, I drink, but he doesn’t.
I can’t help but gawk at him, jaw practically on the floor as I scoot closer to face him fully, my knee brushing against his. “You’ve never been in love?”
