“Do you wanna do the walk of shame to go grab your toothbrush? Or…do you wanna use mine?” she mumbles around the brush.
“Sharing toothbrushes spreads bacteria and viruses,” I blurt. “Gum disease, cavities, cold sores… I’m not saying you h-have any of those things, of course?—”
“Walk of shame, it is,” she says, going back to the sink.
I’m laughing again as I get up, reaching for something to slip on when I realize she’s wearing my hoodie still. Instead, I slide my pants back on and slip out into the hallway to dart across to my room before anyone can see me standing out here shirtless.That’s not something I want to have to explain. As I’m brushing my teeth, I’m gathering up my toiletries and throwing them back in the bag for the road trip back home before finding some fresh clothes to wear for the drive later.
Once I’m ready enough and all my stuff is thrown back into my suitcase, I open the door to go back to Maeve’s room, almost having a stroke when I practically slam into Maverick in my rushed state.
“Whoa,” Maverick says, “Slow down, speedracer.”
“Sorry,” I rush out.
“It’s a little early, don’t you think?”
I swallow. “Early?”
“To be going to my sister’s room.”
Think fast. Think fast. Think fast.
“She wanted me to wake her early,” I say, nodding like that’ll convince him somehow. “We have to hit the road.”
His dark eyes look me up and down meticulously, and he’s a breath away from saying something until Maeve’s bedroom door flies open. We both turn to look at her, and she must read the situation immediately, because she wraps her fingers around my wrist, tugging me into her room as she gives Maverick a pointed look.
“Go away, Mav.”
Maverick raises a brow. “Ouch.”
She sticks her tongue out at him, wrapping both hands around my arm and tugging me further inside her room before I can even manage to throw him an apologetic smile. She closes the door behind us, pressing her back against it before peeking up at me.
“Sorry.” She sighs.
I tilt my head down at her, shooting her a knowing look. She apologizes enough for every person on this planet, but she knows she doesn’t ever have to apologize to me. It’s like it’sinstinctual, at this point. A knee-jerk response so deeply rooted inside her that she doesn’t even know it’s going to come out until it does.
“Sorry,” she repeats, squinting as she winces playfully. “Jeez, I am really bad about that, huh?”
“Just a little.”
A light snicker leaves her lips as she walks over to her suitcase, throwing more of her stuff inside and zipping it up before turning back to me.
“How are you…feeling?”
I know what she’s referring to, and I can sense a feeling of doubt there. My first reaction is to worry that she’s doubting whether or not it should’ve happened, but based on the anxious crease forming in her forehead as she looks at me, I know it’s the opposite. I have to keep from smiling at that.
“I feel…good,” I say. “How do you feel?”
“Good,” she agrees.
“Good.”
Her frown lines disappear as smile lines take their place, her lips turning up into a relieved grin. It only lasts for a second before she’s wrapping her arms around herself, another wave of doubt rolling through. I’d give anything to be in that brain of hers.
“You don’t…” she pauses, scratching her nose nervously, “regret anything?”
I shake my head, making sure I keep eye contact with her, letting her know I’m telling her the truth. “Do…you?”
“No.”
