I’ve had “Heart Attack” on repeat for the last hour. The impassioned lyrics wash over me, piercing my soul. Every verse reminds me of the turbulent entanglement between Maverick and me.
It never would’ve worked. We created a fantasy, but it was only a matter of time before reality intruded. I drove Michael and my mom to the airport Saturday morning, pretending to be chipper. It was beyond exhausting, especially since I stayed awake half the night crying.
I gladly ensconced myself in bed after returning home. I’ve gone to the bathroom and eaten out of necessity, but not much else. I’m trying my best to be strong, but I’m only human.
Kate, Jamal, and Lucy constantly nagged me, until I told them to quit it. I understand their concern, but I want to be left alone. I haven’t confided in Lo and Micah because, frankly, I’m too embarrassed. My eyes drift closed, needing to sleep and rest my mind.
A caress on my leg alerts me to the presence of another. I shriek, rolling off the bed, grabbing the knife stashed under my pillow. My frantic gaze zeros in on the beautiful, damaged boy who gutted me and left me for dead.
A knot forms in my belly.
Shit, I planned to barricade my bedroom door later—same as the last three nights. Figured there was a possibility he might show up, but not during the day. I hold the sharp blade in front of me, ready to defend myself.
He thoroughly peruses me from top to bottom. Though I’m clad in a camisole and panties, his predatoryscrutiny strips me bare. Running for the bathroom is an option, but even if I manage to lock myself inside, the flimsy wood doesn’t stand a chance against Maverick’s brute strength.
I could’ve used the couple minutes before he gained entry to dial the police, but in my haste to scramble out of bed, I knocked my phone on the floor.I hear the music, but don’t see where it landed.
“Put the knife down,” he states calmly, holding out a placating hand. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
“Yeah,” I scoff, “and the sky is purple.”
“I know the truth now,” he says, slowly walking towards me. “Victoria and Jake staged the whole thing.”
“Come near me and I’ll stab you,” I threaten, tightening my sweaty hand around the hilt. “I swear to God, Maverick.”
He hesitates for a split second but stops. “I’m so sorry, Cocoa.”
“I don’t care.” I raise my chin, putting on a strong front, though I’m falling apart inside. “Get the fuck out of my house.”
His nostrils flare. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“It’s over!” I shout, rage churning through me.
“No, it isn’t.” He bristles, jaw clenching.
“You called me a nigger.” Tears sting my eyes. “I’ll always be a nigger to you.”
Fuck, don’t show weakness. Suck it up, buttercup.
“I shouldn’t have called you that.” His gaze strays to the floor, unable to look me in the eye. “I was angry.”
“Oh, well, I guess it’s okay then.” I cluck my tongue. “Should I expect to be called a racial slur whenever you’re upset?”
“I made a mistake, Cocoa, and I’m truly sorry.” A pained expression mars his features. “It’ll never happen again.”
The sincerity in his voice doesn’t faze me. My decision is final, and I refuse be swayed. I can’t keep riding the Maverick train wreck, because when he crashes, I’ll burn too. This delusional fairy tale doesn’t have a happy ending.
“I can’t forgive you, Maverick. Not this time. How could you believe anything Victoria said about me? You owed me the benefit of the doubt.”
“We can get past this.”
“You humiliated me… encouraged kids to throw food at me.” My voice thickens with emotion. “An orange hit me in the face. I could’ve been seriously injured.”
“I’m not letting you go.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
Maverick lunges forward and I lash out, cutting him across the torso, but he doesn’t falter. He swiftly captures my wrist and squeezes brutally. I yelp, dropping the knife. A line of red blooms on his shirt, creating a stark contrast against the white cotton. A violent struggle ensues.
