“You can turn around.”
Even with her permission, I feel hesitant to do so, but I inhale as steadily as I can before I twist back around. She dons a baggy, long-sleeved tee now, but I still have to duck my head to hide my reddened cheeks as I go over to my own bed.
“Sorry. I should’ve, uh…”
“Tate. It’s okay. It’s just a bra…” She trails off, her smile fading. “God, I’m sorry. I should’ve just waited until you were out of the bathroom. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
“N-No, I’m okay. It’s okay.”
She looks skeptical, but she shrugs it off as she climbs underneath the covers in her bed, peering over at me before she says, “Okay.”
“Okay,” I repeat back to her.
As we get settled into bed, flicking the lights off and leaving the TV on the true crime channel, I put my glasses on the nightstand, chancing one last look over at Maeve, only to see her staring at me already. I’m shaky, propped up on my elbow, frozen mid-air from setting my glasses down, and as her dark eyes watch me for a moment, I fear my cheeks might never recover from the blush that’s inevitably staining them.
“Goodnight, Tate,” she finally says, her voice raspy.
I blink a few times. “Goodnight, Maeve.”
Her eyes avert back to the TV, freeing me as I plop down onto the pillows, staring up at the ceiling.
I should’ve taken a cold shower.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MAEVE
Thursday, December 23rd
There’s a tension between us, I can feel it.
It was so thick in the air last night when we looked at each other from our separate beds, I thought for sure there wasn’t a chance that hecouldn’tfeel it. It was heavy, prominent, passing through our stalling gaze before we said goodnight. It was like I couldfeelhis eyes burning into me, staying on me longer than they ever had before. There was even a heaviness to my chest before I broke the invisible tether, one that felt foreign to me, and that…
Well, it scares the shit out of me.
Becausethatcan’t happen. That feeling offuck it. That feeling of wanting Tatum’s hands on me in a way that isn’t friendly at all. I can’t be his first anything. Not me. Not the damaged girl who has panic attacks over stupid shit and loads of emotional trauma that she doesn’t know what to do with. I’m not good enough to be his first. He deserves someone who isn’t tainted already. Someone who is whole, healed. I don’t know if I’ll ever be fully healed again.
I sigh heavily as I stare out of the window. Thankfully, Phoenix hasn’t gotten any snow, but it’s still rather chilly. The weather gets more and more like home the closer we get.
“Everything okay?” Tate asks quietly, and I realize how loud I must’ve been huffing over here in the passenger seat.
“Have you everalmostkissed anyone?” I ask.
Jesus Christ, Maeve.
“N-no,” he says.
“At all?”
It’s quiet for a moment, and now I feel like a complete ass for even asking.
“No.”
“Have you ever wanted to?”
He hesitates. “Yes.”
I snort at that, swallowing down the fact that it makes my stomach do a weird, jealous flip. “Really? Well, why don’t you just kiss her then?”
