Please tell me you didn’t just disappear like that.
Fuck. Guilt is a chokehold and I feel deservedly strangled.
Sorry : (. I wanted to get things set up for the party before you made your way back home.
You gonna bail on that too?
You’re not being fair.
I wait. A minute. Two minutes. I watch three little dots indicate that he’s typing. I watch those three little dots disappear. Another two minutes. And then five. Maverick doesn’t reply.
I feel like an ass. I really do. But he has to understand. We’re lucky that Jessica didn’t mention what she found out to anyone. Instead of throwing the fraudulence of our relationship in everyone’s face, Maverick should be counting his blessings. Not to mention the fact that I really don’t need to paint a damn bullseye on my forehead. I still get my chair kicked and gum stuck between my textbooks. I don’t need the bitches at our high school to have the fuel they need to up the Ante.
The Uber pulls up in front of Maverick’s building and I thank the driver, tipping him a few extra dollars before exiting the car. The fresh air feels crisp against my skin, so crisp that its chill is almost menacing. I stay outside a little longer than necessary, perhaps to punish myself, though I know I’m doing nothing wrong.
I care about Maverick. Maybe even more than I dare to admit. But what we have can flourish behind closed doors. In fact, it flourishes better without everyone watching. I’m doing the right thing. Not just for me. Not just for him. But for us.
After a few minutes have gone by, I enter the building and make my way to the elevator. The ride up to Maverick’s suite is smooth and undisturbed and I’m feeling a little more settled now than I was before.
I’m running through the list of things that still need to be put together for tonight. Knowing the kind of chaos that ensues with late preparation, I’d used last night to take care of the decorations. Maverick went ahead and stocked up on alcohol and I’ve put a few bottles in the fridge. I spent hours slaving over the appetizers, but still need to add a few finishing touches and plate them before they’re good to go. Outside of that, everything is pretty much in order. Maverick might be pissed now, but he’ll thank me later.
I push open the front door and my jaw just about hits the floor. In front of me is not a Maverick that looks like he’s anywhere close to being okay. Anger marks every inch of his face and he glares at me as I step in.
With trembling shoulders, I push the door shut, but don’t take my eyes off of him. He’s still wearing his jersey. It’s wet and sweaty and even though I don’t press my hand against it, I know that it’s cold. He’s parked a chair in front of the front door and I can’t help but wonder just how long he’s been sitting here like this. Or how he got here so fast?
“Hey,” I say. My lips are still parted even after the word has left, but I can’t find anything to follow up.
“You’re being a bitch.” I flinch. That was to the point. And mean.
“Maverick!”
He stands up from his chair and takes a step closer to me. Just one step. One small step as though the idea of coming closer scorches his soul.
“I never wanted you until I had you,” he hisses. “But you have to understand how much it fucking sucks to have you act like-”
“Act like what, Maverick? Act like we are a secret? We agreed to being a secret.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“I know that it’s better this way.”
He puts a finger up, shushing me. “I know you’re just being selfish as fuck,” he grunts. “That you can’t forget the fucking past and allow me to love you. That you’re afraid of what people will think. And I get it, I put you through crap for years. I can understand how it’s embarrassing to go prancing around with the dude who dumped soup over your freshly pressed uniform, but for fucks sake, Beth-”
“You really think this is why I don’t want to display our relationship to all your friends?”
“Can’t think of any other reason that makes sense.”
“I’m not embarrassed about our relationship.”
“You’d just rather not be seen with me.”
I shake my head at him. His anger is boiling at five-hundred degrees right now and I know that nothing I do or say will calm him down.
“Congratulations on the game, Maverick. You have every reason in the world to celebrate-”
“But not enough reason for you to celebrate with me.”
Even if I wanted to change my mind. Even if I thought, okay, I’ll suck it up and put on a metal shield for all the bullying that certainly will come if Maverick and I broadcast that we’re an item, now is not the time to do this. Our relationship is like a pot of hot fucking oil and I’m not about to have him throw us in freezing cold water. I step past him and make my way into the kitchen. He doesn’t follow me, but I can feel his eye on me, nonetheless.
I open the cupboards and collect the serving plates and then pull the food from the fridge. It takes me no more than twenty minutes to get everything prepped to perfection which makes me feel guilty because I left after the game under the pretense that I needed to set things up. Evidently, there wasn’t much setting up left to be done. Maverick has been staring daggers into me the entire time ,making those twenty minutes feel like a thousand forevers.
When I’m done, I make my way over to him and attempt to pull his hand into mine. He pulls away.
“I’ll be back in the morning,” I tell him. My voice is soft, pleading. I don’t want to end this night on a fight. I want him to have fun, to celebrate like he deserves to celebrate. Just because I’m a hermit, doesn’t mean he needs to be a hermit too. He’s already avoided his friends a mass of times in favor of spending his nights in with me. Tonight doesn’t need to be one of those nights. Afterall, we’ve got enough alcohol to feed all the zombies in an apocalypse.
I look at Maverick again. He’s washing his hands over his face in frustration, his eyes looking everywhere but at me. Even then, there’s no missing the fury in them.
I brush a hand down his arm, flinching as he pulls away from me.
“Have fun tonight, Maverick.”
His gaze shifts to mine. Intense. Brutal. “Fuck you, Beth,” he says in the most serious tone I’ve ever heard pass his full pink lips.
46
She fucked up. I think even she knows it, but in true Beth fashion, she walks out the door, likely banking on fixing things later. Screw that! Later I’ll still be pissed. And drunk. It’s not a combination that makes for a lot of fun. It won’t make it easy for her to poke through the hole she’s gradually opening up in my heart, either.
My fist crashes against the front door as she shuts it behind her. After the game, she disappeared. That hurt. The one person I gave a damn about, the person I played the fucking game for, she wasn’t even there to throw a ‘congratulations’ over her shoulder. And now, she’s just upped and left again. I wonder just how many times this’ll happen. I wonder if this will be the rhythm of my life with Beth. Some might think I deserve it – that karma has twisted round and set its sights on me. Fuck that.
Fuck her!