“Are you still with Hall?”
I’m surprised by his question, and more so by the fact that he’s actually looking at me. Nathan is a serial avoider. He avoids anything too difficult or uncomfortable. Relationship talk falls into his too-uncomfortable column.
“It’s never going to work.”
My mouth parts, and I close it before opening it again. “You don’t know that,” I say, finally finding my voice.
He smirks with a careless shrug of his shoulder.“He’s a hotheaded whore, Chloe. He’s not the Prince Charming that you’ve drawn up in your head.”
I rear back, shocked by his words but not surprised. Myrelationship with Maverick might not be real, but I do feel oddly defensive over it. Or at the very least of how he’s talking about Maverick.
“You don’t know him.” I turn in my seat, facing forward, eyes focused on my laptop in front of me.
“I know you.”
Fuck you.I bite back my response. Not because I don’t think he deserves it, but because even though I wish with every fiber of my being that I could let him go, I’m still too afraid to completely burn that bridge.
The remaining hour, I keep my focus on Professor Soto, my eyes follow his every movement, and I think I do a fairly convincing job of paying attention. However, for the first time in my academic career, everything that was said went in one ear and out the other. I sat beside Nathan, seething over his comments, while also obsessing over whether he said the things he said because he’s been thinking about me.
That last part, I recognize as an old habit, so when the professor picks up his coffee and dismisses the class, I clutch my laptop to my chest, not bothering to put it in my bag, and take off down the stairs.
I’m the first person out the door. The chill of the morning air hits my exposed legs, sending goosebumps across my skin. We’re at that part of the year when it’s cold in the morning, but a desert oasis in the afternoon, and I refuse to be caught out in hot weather with my legs covered.
Now that I’ve put some space between Nathan and myself, I’m able to take a breath, calm down, and arrange my shit. I slide my laptop into my trusty purple Jansport.
“Nice bag.”
Slowly, I lift my head, finding Maverick only steps away, twisting to the side to show off his matching black backpack.
“She’s a ride or die, this bag,” I say.
“She suits you.”
There’s no sarcasm in his tone, no teasing. I zip the pocket,glancing up at him, and whether he meant it to or not, his comment lands.
Maverick clears what little space there was between us, and now my breathing has gone from a quiet rage to a simmering heat. His hand twitches, and for a minute I think he’s going to reach for me, but then his eyes travel past my shoulder and all the shine in his baby blues darken.
“Hall! What’s up?” Nathan extends his hand with a smile that appears genuine, but three years of paying attention to every single facial expression this man has ever made tells me there's a slight edge of uncertainty there. Maverick stares at Nathan’s outstretched hand for a beat too long, and for a moment, I think he’s going to leave him hanging before he eventually lifts a closed fist, bumps his waiting palm, and leaves it at that.
“Nathan.” He looks between the two of us, before sliding his glare back to the man beside me.
“On your way to practice?” Nathan wraps an arm around my shoulder, and I have a moment of internal panic. Would I have melted into this touch any other time? Abso-fucking-lutely. But standing across from the guy I’m supposed to be dating, makes the gesture feel cheap.
I step out of his hold and don't stop until I’m side by side with Maverick.
“Nope. Just came to pick my girl up.” He slides his hand into mine, and it should feel awkward, but it fits just right. Whatever I felt when Nathan’s arm was around me, this is the opposite. “We’re going to…” he trails off, lips pursed, eyes flickering over my face as if he can read the answer there.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
“Pick up groceries for the bake sale at Creekside,” I supply, squeezing his hand.
“Yes.” Relief floods his face as he nods once, trying to play it cool.
I can’t stop the slow spread of my smile, and Maverick—never one to be off balance for too long—reaches one hand up to adjust the clasp on one of my necklaces. His fingers move easily and deliberately, and I feel them skim my collar bone through the fabric of my shirt. “The bake sale,” he repeats.
I inhale a slow breath, and for a full ten seconds, I forget Nathan is still standing there.
“Cool. Well, I do actually have practice, but Chloe, maybe now that we’re taking a class together again, we can plan a study date.”
