I continue babbling about the different flavors of donuts as I hurriedly wipe at his shirt with my hands, flinging bits of dough to the sidewalk while secretly calculating if I have enough time to dash back in to grab another one.
His chest is—unsurprisingly—hard as iron, his pecs solid as my fingers fuss over him, and suddenly I’m feeling shy and self-conscious because I’ve touched him without permission. Sure, we briefly touched lips two years ago, but that seems like a lifetime ago.
I drop my hands to my sides and our eyes collide again.
A nervous sneeze threatens to erupt, and I push it down, my fingers clenching the straps of my backpack. Don’t do it, Delaney!
He clears his throat. “I was wondering if you wanted—”
Alex appears next to me. “Delaney! Are you deaf? I’ve been calling your name and you didn’t even turn around.” His eyes bounce from me to Maverick, taking in the donut, which is still in Maverick’s hand, along with my forlorn coffee cup sitting prettily atop an ornamental bush. “What happened?” he questions, his square face concerned, his eyes taking in my face slowly, lingering on my lips. He’s a handsome guy, lean and wiry, with soft eyes, auburn hair, and an easy smile that used to make me melt.
My entire body tightens. We haven’t spoken in a month, and now here he is, chasing me down across campus and looking at me like I’m a piece of candy.
“Aren’t you even going to talk to me?” Alex hitches up his backpack and takes another step toward me.
Maverick turns his gaze to me and throws up an eyebrow, as if prompting me to respond. He’s rather desperate, his expression seems to say.
I’d rather eat snails than talk to him, I say back with my face. I’m not sure he gets my body language message, but I could have sworn his lips twitched.
Either way, he says nothing, just slides his gaze from me to Alex.
I’m a bundle of nerves, and most of it has to do with Alex chasing after me, but some of it is because bumping into Maverick has me thinking back to Badass Athlete and what he’s doing right now. What if Maverick is Badass Athlete? They’re both blond and athletic…but what if Badass Athlete is just a tennis player? Or one of those volleyball dudes? There’s a ton of them.
Alex takes my hand, and because I’m so surprised that he’s touching me, I let him. “Look, babe, I don’t want to have this conversation in front of everyone”—he sends some side-eye toward Maverick, who hasn’t moved an inch—“but do you want to meet me at Pluto’s for coffee after your class? I know you love that place.”
Babe? Ugh.
“You asked what happened—we bumped into each other,” Maverick says rather abruptly as his eyes go from me to Alex, talking as if everything is perfectly normal. He’s trying to change the topic, and I appreciate it. Maybe he reads the desperation on my face. “Actually, I was on my phone—an emergency with my sister, but everything’s okay. I was looking down, and I guess Delaney was too.” He shrugs. “Unfortunately, she lost her breakfast in the process, and I lost my phone.”
“Did you drop it?” I ask, checking him out and not seeing one in his hands.
He nods, and it’s the perfect reason to immediately retract my hand from Alex’s and bend down to see if I can find it. Maverick does the same, and our shoulders bump together as we pillage through the azaleas.
“Thank you,” I whisper to him as we scan the sidewalk.
“For what?” he whispers back.
“For defusing that…moment.”
“Ah—you’re still into him.”
I scowl. “No, I’m not.”
“Then why are you so flustered?”
“I’m not,” I huff out under my breath. Scrambling around in the bushes is not the place to explain the dynamics of my relationship with Alex.
“You are. Is it because you bumped into me?” A small grin curls his lips, and I’m reminded of the arrogant football player I met at the bonfire.
I give him a glare. “No. I barely know you.”
“We can change that.” He cocks an eyebrow.
Oh.
Well then.
“I’m not one of your groupies. I don’t do random hook-ups.”
“Maybe I’m just trying to get to know you.”
I give him a get real look. “Why? We barely talk.”
His gaze flicks back to Alex, who’s also looking for the phone a few feet away. “Now that you’re not dating Alex…”
I let out a triumphant shout when I find the phone and hold it up over my head. Alex is glowering at us, and I think he has been since I pulled my hand out of his. I ignore him.
“Found it, and thankfully it didn’t get wet from my coffee.” Maverick and I stand together and do a little handoff where he gives me the crushed donut and I give him his phone. Our fingers graze, giving me a shiver of heat. I stick my hand in my coat pocket.
Alex touches my arm and shoots an annoyed look between Maverick and me. He’s holding my empty coffee cup, retrieved from the shrubbery, and he also grabbed my small desk calendar, which slipped out of my backpack because I left it half-unzipped in my rush to get out of the house this morning.
“Here, don’t you need this?” He waves it at me.
I give him a tight nod and shove it into my bag without looking at him.
“Are you okay? No bumps or bruises?” Alex asks, running his hands over my shoulders.
“No, I’m fine.” I straighten up and give my chin a little hitch to look at him. He’s not as tall as Maverick, about six-one.
A built-up sigh I hadn’t known I’d been holding in comes out, long and full of pent-up emotion. So what if Maverick is here, listening? It’s not like the entire campus doesn’t already know why we broke up. Gossip spreads like wildfire.
“What do you want, Alex? I have a class to get to.”
He stiffens as he glances briefly at Maverick, who is curiously still standing here. “I just wanted to see you, and…say hello. Now that football is over, I thought we could get together and talk about everything. I never had the chance to tell you I’m sorry in person for…everything.”
An image of him and Martha-Muffin in his bed flashes in my head. “You mean for cheating on me.” Get it right, asshole.
Alex closes his eyes briefly then takes my elbow and gently pulls me aside.
With a sigh, I let him. Maybe if he can say what he needs to, he’ll stop bothering me.
“Don’t be like this, Delaney,” he says in a lowered tone. “Muffin was a one-time thing. I swear I’ve never cheated on you before.”
My heart aches at the memory. I shake my head. “You…you are not the person I thought you were. We’re over, Alex.”
He bites his lip, a pleading look in his eyes. “I just want things to go back to the way they were.”
I take a deep breath, the urge to flee intense. “I have to get to class now.”
I turn back around, and Maverick is still standing over near the hedge, his face concerned as he watches us. He calls my name as I stomp past, but I keep going.
I just need away from both of them. Football guys can suck it.
I imagine both of their eyes on me and barely resist throwing up a one-finger salute, but those cocky athletes aren’t worth the energy it would take.
Delaney
Being an introvert comes with tells. Sometimes I giggle uncontrollably, but more often than not, I sneeze when I’m nervous. When I’m faced with a situation that tilts my world on its axis, a tingling starts up in my nose, itching and building pressure until finally I sneeze. Senior year of high school, I got caught skipping school, and when the principal called me into his office, I sneezed so many times tears poured down my face. He let me go after stuffing a box of Kleenex into my hands. Sometimes it works in my favor and I can use it as an excuse to make a quick exit, but sometimes it can just be downright annoying.
Like now.
“May I sit here?” a deep voice says from behind me.
My body knows who it is before my brai
n does, and right away, I suppress the pre-sneeze sensation by inhaling sharply and holding my breath for five seconds.
I slip my glasses down a few notches as I look over to see Maverick staring at me. It’s been a couple of days since the donut tragedy, and we’ve passed each other in the hallway a few times. Once I thought he said something, but I’m too awkward to stop and say, Hey, did you just say something to me? so I just ignored him.
We’re inside the auditorium for our psych class, and my hands flutter around the desk next to me. “Do whatever you want. Be prepared, though—the lights are rather dim back here. Wouldn’t want you to fall asleep.”
Somehow he manages to settle his large frame into the cushioned seat and reclines it back, him and his long jean-clad legs taking up all the space next to me—and the air.
“Ah, I could never fall asleep here.” He shoots me a grin, and I mentally put up my shields. Don’t get sucked into the hotness.
I nod, making small talk. “Yeah, it’s an interesting class.”
“And you’re in it.”
My lashes flutter and I can’t bring myself to look at him. I just can’t. A normal person would ask what he meant by that, but this is me. I just clear my throat and scoot my leg over a little to give him more room.
Just be cool, Delaney.
“What are you drawing?” he asks, leaning over my shoulder.
I stop the doodling I’ve been doing in my notebook. The heat from his body is intoxicating, and I swallow. “Han Solo.”
His lips twitch. “Hate to break it to you, Buttercup, but Han Solo isn’t a cat. He’s the captain of the Millennium Falcon.”
“He’s also a scoundrel and a smuggler,” I add. “And who gave you permission to call me Buttercup?”
He waves that off and says, “I know he’s a scoundrel—it’s what makes him endearing. He’s a badass and also has the best friend ever, a seven-foot-tall Wookie with a gun. He’s my favorite Star Wars character ever, next to Yoda.”
Maverick likes Star Wars? I just assumed he sat around and watched recordings of football games while guzzling beer with a girl on either side of him.
I nod and point to my doodle. “Named my cat after him, Han Solo #2.”
“What happened to #1? Killed by a light saber?”
I laugh. “I hope she ran off with a tomcat. She’s probably living in a tree house with her baby kittens right now.” I don’t tell him I cried for a month when she disappeared. I don’t actually know what happened to her, but imagining her with a sweet little family is the vision I like to keep close to my heart.
“Living the dream,” he says, and I flick my eyes at him. He’s hard to look at full-on, but I do, letting our eyes meet, my green and his pale blue. Almost iridescent, like a glittering opal, they contrast vividly with his tanned skin. His chin is firm and square with the hint of a cleft in the middle, and his hair is a mixture of dark blond with streaks of gold, painted by the sun from all those days of practicing football. I can’t see his scar from this angle but I know it’s there, on the other side of his face, that one little imperfection.
A slight smile curves his lips as his eyes warm, and I seize up, realizing I’ve been staring about ten seconds too long. That kind of stare means you either want to kill someone or sleep with them, and I’ve just crossed that line.
“Delaney?”
He says my name softly, and my mouth dries up as a shot of electricity shoots straight to my core.
Good grief, ignore this weird hormonal reaction you have to Maverick.
Right. Now.
“You okay?” he asks.
He thinks I’m an idiot.
“Fine, totally fine. How’s it going? How’s football? Oh, yeah, it’s over…but you’re still practicing, right? To get ready for next year and all? Can’t believe we’ll be seniors. Also can’t believe you decided to stay another year when you could have been drafted.” I’m rambling and my voice sounds breathy. I gulp in a deep inhalation to steady myself.
He scratches his head, a bemused expression on his face. “You’re funny.”
“I don’t talk much, but when I do, I make the most of it.”
He laughs. “I stayed because I wouldn’t have been picked early enough yet. I need to build my stats if I want the best deal. I have a buddy who went early and his contract sucked. I have another friend who waited it out and got a two million dollar deal.”
“It’s all about the money.”
“Especially if you’ve never had it,” he adds.
Interesting. Maybe Maverick didn’t grow up with much. I think back to what I know about him, and I realize it’s basically nothing, except that he’s from Magnolia. I stare down at my doodle. I’m not rich like Alex, but I do okay with the money Nana left me. I own the house Skye and I live in, and I don’t have to work a full-time job. Thankfully, I’m at WU on an art scholarship.
I glance back up at him. “So…why is the big guy on campus sitting in the back of the auditorium with me? Isn’t there a football groupie somewhere crying because you aren’t next to her?”
“Because I can.” He pauses. “And you aren’t dating Alex anymore.”
“What does that mean?” I can’t believe I asked, but something about him has me feeling reckless.
He gets a tight look on his face. “Just an observation. You’ve been with him since freshman year, and everyone thought you guys were the perfect couple.”
“I didn’t think you cared—you know, with the twins and all.”
“You remember the bonfire.” It’s not a question.
“Kinda hard to forget.”
His eyes find mine. “I gave you your first kiss at the bonfire. Legend says you’ll never forget me.”
I tilt my head. “What’s your name again?”
He laughs, but soon a cloud seems to settle on the planes of his chiseled face. “Alex isn’t over you.”
“Why do you say that?”
His shoulders shift, the movement barely perceptible yet giving off a visceral impression of suppressed power.
“He’s my teammate, and I see how he looks at you. He wasn’t happy to see us standing together on Monday, and that was just an accidental run-in. Imagine how he’d react if there really was something between us.” His eyes slide over to my face. “He’d probably freak out and get pissed at me, and it would definitely screw up his game, and then poof, there goes our chance at a championship next year.” He gives me a teasing look. “Kickers are rather emotional…”
I wrinkle my nose. “Regardless if any of that’s true or not, I do what I want.”
He studies me intently. “So you’re dating again?”
“Why do you care anyway?” I ask.
“Hey, Mav, aren’t you going to come sit with us?” It’s a sleek-looking girl with dark hair and a lot of hot pink lipstick speaking from behind the railing that lines the back of the auditorium. Miss Brunette trails her finger along his shoulder, giving him a soft caress.
She sends a half-smile my way, clearly not worried about me being any kind of competition. I don’t reciprocate.
He flicks his gaze at her, showing even white teeth as he smiles at her, but it doesn’t ring true. They chat about class, and I’m fascinated, watching his reaction to everything she says, taking in the way he nods, the non-interest in his gaze. His eyes find mine as she rambles on and on about some big off-campus mixer between the frat houses, and he smiles ever so slightly.
He isn’t into her, and I know it.
I don’t know how I’m able to read him, but it’s as if we have a connection and I get him.
She walks off, hips swaying as she does another little wave over her shoulder.
“You sleep with her?” I ask casually.
He shrugs. “A few times last year.”
Ah. “You’re just a playboy, aren’t you?”
“I’ve had relationships.”
I narrow my eyes at him, feeling prickly. “Yeah? What’s the longest one?”
&nbs
p; He cocks a smile. “Dated a sweet girl back in high school for a year…” His voice trails off. “Then things got messed up and I came to Waylon. Football’s been my muse ever since.”
“Doesn’t that get, I don’t know, lonely?”
He stares at me. “Is this an interview?”
“No. I don’t even care.” Total lie. I’m dying to know the scoop on Maverick.
A gruff laugh comes out of him. “I just know when a girl’s a keeper and when she isn’t. She wasn’t.”
“Ah, a keeper—I see.”
“Yeah, you know, the one girl who makes your heart pound like crazy every time she walks into the room.” He’s looking at me with an intensity that makes me breathless.
Does he mean me?
Don’t be ridiculous.
Just then the professor enters and begins his lecture, so I pull out my iPad to bring up the class website and get to work.
I try really hard to ignore how close Maverick is sitting, how his leg occasionally brushes against mine…and I remind myself that getting interested in a cocky-as-hell football player is the last thing I need right now.
Maverick
It’s the same dream again. I try to pull myself out of it, but it’s no use.
Maybe the outcome will be different this time.
Rain slaps at the car and Def Leppard blares on the radio as my father drives our old van. My mother yells at him, her mouth moving in slow motion, the sound disembodied, as if my brain doesn’t want to hear her words. I look over at my little sister and curl my hand into hers. She’s scared, and I have to protect her.
Dread snakes down my spine when a diesel truck’s horn blares at us as we fly past it, our headlights reflecting off his grill.
It’s coming.
My body tenses…waiting.
Just around this hairpin curve.
I have to stop him.
I yell at Dad to slow down.
I scream at Mom to shut up.
But I never say it in time.
There’s a deer in the road, its brown face turning to look straight into our headlights.
I Dare You Page 3
