Paisley Tate.
21
MALLORY
By Monday, my nerves were frayed down to exposed wire. I’d been in my head too much, too many thoughts boomeranging around inside.
Paisley and Atlas planned to meet me at lunch in the library today to go over the footage from Raven Night, the footage I’d spent most of the weekend splicing and editing on my laptop, hunched over the screen until my eyes burned and my back ached. I cut out the entire chunk of what happened in the cellar.
Not because it wasn’t important.
But because it was…complicated. Personal. And also, because the last thing I needed was for my friends to judge me. Watching it, I wasn’t sure I recognized the girl in the mask. Or perhaps I didn’t want to acknowledge she was me. Seeing myself play the game, the way I melted into Maddox, abandoning all common sense, I wasn’t sure if I was protecting myself, Maddox, Paisley, or all of the above by deleting the proof.
The SD card sat in my bag like a secret I couldn’t wait to get off my chest. I just had to get through my morning classes, and I was already halfway there.
I was anxious about seeing Maddox again. My brain obsessed over what happened in the cellar all weekend. Was it just a fling? Did it mean anything to him? To me? Would he pretend as if nothing had happened?
Was I overthinking every tiny detail? Yes.
Did I want to kiss him again? Yes. Yes. Yes.
Was I afraid he didn’t like me? Yes.
It didn’t help that I had no experience with guys, dating, relationships, or hookups. I didn’t want to come off clingy or desperate, but he wouldn’t have kissed me if he didn’t like me, right? Especially the way Maddox kissed. My cheeks warmed thinking about how his mouth moved over mine. How possessive his hands felt on my skin. How he had been hungry for the taste of me.
I snuck a glance at Maddox, who hadn’t so much as mumbled a hi to me when he sauntered into the room, plopping into his chair beside me. The avoidance of eye contact from him amped up my anxiety so much that I barely heard a word Mr. Gifford said.
Tapping my pen against my open notebook, I tried to tune in.
“Your first project of the semester,” Mr. Gifford announced, turning to face the class, “will be a partner assignment. You’ll be designing an experiment from the ground up, collecting data, analyzing results, and presenting your findings to the class. This is not busywork. This is your foundation for the year.”
Maddox shifted subtly beside me, the movement impossible to miss, given how hyperaware I was of him. His shoulder brushed mine as he adjusted his position, sending heat radiating through the thin fabric of my shirt. We were still sharing my textbook again, and his knee grazed mine under the table, making my focus wobble.
“I expect a detailed proposal by Friday. Topic, hypothesis, methodology, and expected outcomes. Don’t wait until Thursdaynight to start thinking about it,” he informed. “It will be due at the end of the semester.”
I scribbled a few notes in the margin of my notebook to look busy because I wasn’t actually processing any of what he was saying. My handwriting came out messier than usual.
When Mr. Gifford turned back to the board, launching into a discussion of independent and dependent variables, I angled toward Maddox, catching the cedar and smoky scent of him. “Hey,” I whispered, keeping my voice low enough that only he could hear. “Are you free one day after school this week? To work on the project, I mean.”
He glanced at me, those light-green eyes catching mine for a fraction before sliding away. “I’ve got practice every day after school.”
Of course, he did.
“What about after practice?”
He thought about it for a second, his eyes clashing with mine and staying this time. “Yeah. I’m usually done by six. Sometimes earlier if Coach is in a good mood.”
“Okay,” I said, trying to sound casual even though my pulse had picked up. “You could come over to my place.”
His brow lifted slightly, surprise flickering across his features. “Your house?”
“Unless you prefer the library or a coffee shop,” I added quickly, giving him an out if he needed one. The idea of being alone in my room with Maddox Corvo did unthinkable things to my body. Should I be doing this? Paisley would definitely say no, and yet, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting more from him. Moreofhim.
“After practice,” he said. “Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow works,” I agreed, feeling a strange mix of relief and nerves settle in my chest, tangling together until I couldn’t separate one from the other.
As Mr. Gifford launched into a lecture, I tried to focus. Really, I did, but between Maddox and the tiny SD card in my bag, my brain didn’t have the capacity for anything new.
