“So busy you can’t even clean Slinky’s cage? I mean, look at her! The poor baby. When’s the last time she’s been out?” Cindy moved over to the cage and opened the door. Slinky squeaked and made a beeline for the opening, darting out of the cage and scampering away.
A flash of guilt seized Maggie but she pushed it away. Slinky’s cage wasn’t bad and Cindy knew it. And it wasn’t like she had been ignoring Slinky—she just hadn’t had as much time to play with her like she usually did.
“When’s the last time you’ve been outside?”
“I don’t know. A few days ago.”
“You’re pathetic.”
“No, I’m busy.” Maggie grabbed another pencil and turned her attention back to her reports. A hand shot out and grabbed the stack of papers, pulling them away. Maggie took a deep breath, held it for ten seconds, then let it out. Slowly. Carefully. When she was certain she wouldn’t dissolve into a screaming crying mess, she swiveled in the chair and narrowed her eyes at Cindy. “Give them back.”
Cindy pushed the reports behind her and shook her head. “Not until we talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. Now give them back.”
“No.”
“Cindy—”
“I said no.” She pursed her lips, an expression of pure stubbornness crossing her face as she moved across the room. What was she doing? Was she really—yes, she really was putting the paperwork in the freezer. But why?
Maggie jumped from the chair and moved after her, stepping over the scattered piles of books and binders and clothes. Cindy slammed the freezer door then turned, bracing her back against the refrigerator and stretching her arms out.
“Cindy. I need those back. Now.”
“Not until we talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“You need an intervention.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yeah you do. You’ve become a shut-in. A recluse. A…a lonely, solitary hermit.”
“No, I haven’t. I’m just busy. That’s all.”
“That’s a pathetic, lame excuse and you know it.”
“An excuse for what?”
“For not seeing Dillon.”
Maggie turned away. If she didn’t, she might actually hit her best friend. Worse, her best friend might see the silly pathetic moisture in her eyes. Maggie blinked it away and moved back to the desk, her hand resting on the chair.
She sighed and moved away, over to the sac, then flopped down into it.
“So what’s going on? Why haven’t you talked to him?”
“I told you: I’m busy.”
“That’s just an excuse.”
“No, it’s the truth.”
“You’re always busy. That didn’t stop you from taking the time before. From seeing him before. Or talking to him.”
“That was different.”
“How was that any different?”
“Because then I was his tutor. It was my job to see him.”
“Wow. Just…wow.” Cindy moved away from the refrigerator and grabbed the desk chair. She spun it around and pushed it toward Maggie, then walked over and took a seat. Great, now Cindy was going to psycho-analyze her. Just what she didn’t need.
“So tell me what happened.”
“Cindy, I’m not in the mood for a therapy session. I don’t need it.”
“No, what you need is a whack upside the head with a two-by-four.”
“Real professional. I’m sure that’ll go over really well with your patients in the future.”
“You’re not a patient. You’re my bestie. Now tell me what’s going on. Why’d you dump Dillon?”
Maggie’s head shot up, outrage spreading through her. “I did not dump him! Is that what he said?”
“You totally cut him off. Bam, gone.” She clapped her hands together then spread them apart with a dramatic whistle. “No calls, no explanation. Nothing. If that’s not dumping someone then I don’t know what is.”
“That’s not true. I told him I was busy.”
“What? One time, when you cancelled your date? That was, like, three weeks ago.”
Maggie leaned back in the sac and folded her arms in front of her, not quite able to look at Cindy.
Because her friend was right: she had pretty much cut everything off with Dillon. Because she was scared. Because she figured it was better to just quit things now herself, instead of waiting for him to slay her and say goodbye once he was finished with his finals.
Because she was pretty sure she loved him.
Pretty sure? No, she was more than ‘pretty sure’. She loved him. Well, great for her. Wasn’t she the lucky one, giving her heart to a jock who only needed her for her brain? She should have known better. Hadn’t she learned her lesson already?
Except she didn’t give Dillon a chance, just automatically assumed she knew what would happen and took matters into her own hands instead of waiting to see what happened. Waiting to see what he wanted. Waiting to give him a chance to put all her fears and worries to rest.
Well, it didn’t matter now. It was too late. His final was over and she was pretty sure he had moved on. Good for him.
Cindy was right: she was pathetic. Only there was nothing she could do about it, not now, not when it was too late.
“Are you done arguing with yourself?”
Maggie looked up, frowning. “I’m not arguing with yourself.”
“Yes you are. I can see it on your brainiac’s face. You screwed up and you know it.”
“I didn’t—”
“Yes you did. Don’t deny it. You got scared because of something that happened back in high school and you took it all out on Dillon without giving him a chance.”
“Would you please stop psycho-analyzing me?”
“I’m not. This has nothing to do with psycho-analyzing and everything to do with being your bestie.”
“Telling me I screwed up?”
“Yup. That’s what besties are for.” Cindy sent the chair spinning then kicked out with her feet, scooting back until she hit the desk. “Now go take a shower and put on some decent clothes. I’ll straighten up the mess around here. And open the windows while I’m out it. Let some fresh air in—”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Yeah you are. We’re going out for food. I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving.”
“So sue me. Now go. Get moving.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Think you might be able to pout any more than you are?” Cindy rolled her eyes then walked over to her. She reached down and grabbed her hand, forcing Maggie out of the sac.
“I said I don’t want—”
“I don’t care what you want. We’re going out. Now, you can either go make yourself human again, or I can drag you out just like that. And you know I will.” Cindy pushed her across the room and practically shoved her in the bathroom. Maggie opened her mouth to object only to have Cindy hold a hand up in warning.
“No more arguments. You’ve got ten minutes.” Then she slammed the door in Maggie’s face.
Maggie stared at the door then sighed and turned around. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and stepped back in shock. Cripes, Cindy was right. She looked inhuman.
Awful.
Pathetic.
Cindy’s voice came through the door. “Nine minutes.”
Maggie sighed and reached in to turn on the shower. She knew Cindy well enough to know she meant business. So fine, she’d take a shower and throw on some clean clothes then go get something to eat.
Then she’d come back here and lock herself in again. That would be her punishment to bear, which was no less than what she deserved for being so stupid.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Why are we here again?”
“Because I’m tired of your damn moping, that’s why.” Ethan slid into the booth across from him then grabbed a menu, practically burying his face in it.
That’s what he had to focus on: the playoffs. Put everything else behind him. He had to, if he was going to keep his mind where it needed to be. One day at a time, one game at a time. And he couldn’t look ahead, either. That would be jinxing things too much.
The waitress stopped by their table, taking their drink orders. She paused, asking if they were ready to order. Dillon put the menu on table and nodded at Ethan.
“Go ahead and order. I’m not that hungry.”
Ethan smiled at the waitress. “Can you give us a few minutes?”
The waitress smiled back, a blush staining her cheeks, then disappeared. Dillon rolled his eyes and slouched down on the bench. “I thought you knew what you wanted.”
“Nah, I’m good. It can wait.”
“Ethan, if you’re hungry, just order. I don’t want to stay here all day, hanging out.”
“Why not? It’s not like you have anyplace else to go.”
Dillon frowned, wondering why in the hell Ethan would remind him of that. No, he didn’t have anywhere else to go, not considering Maggie had all but disappeared on him. Disappeared? Yeah, that was being nice about it. Disappeared implied that nobody knew where she was. That wasn’t the case. Dillon knew exactly where she was: not with him. He hadn’t spoken to her, heard from her, seen her. Nothing, not since she had cancelled their last date. And she wouldn’t return his calls. Or his texts. Nothing.
And he had no idea why.
Dillon clenched his jaw and shifted on the bench, no longer in the mood to be out in public. Not right now. “Listen, if you’re not going to order, or eat, can we just go?”
“What’s your hurry?”
“No hurry. I’d just rather go home, work out.”
“You mean mope around.”
“I’m not moping.”
“The hell you’re not.”
Dillon ignored him. “Don’t you have something better to do? Go hang out with your new girlfriend or something?”
“Cindy’s not my girlfriend.”
“Yeah, ok.”
“She’s not.”
“Listen, I know you guys are dating. You don’t have to be nice just to spare my feelings.”
“No, seriously. We’re not dating. We’re just friends. And if you want to talk about your feelings, we can. I know what happened with Maggie. Maybe if you—”
“Listen, I don’t need a lecture so if that’s what this is all about, you’re wasting your time. We can just leave right now.”
“Not yet. Give it a few more minutes.”
“A few more minutes? For what?”
Ethan glanced at his watch then looked back at Dillon, shrugging. “For, uh, for our drinks. We ordered drinks. We can’t leave without paying for them.”
His teammate was losing his mind, that had to be it. Hell, everyone around him was losing their minds. Well, he wasn’t going to sit here, not when he could be home doing something productive.
Dillon reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m paying for our drinks.” He grabbed a twenty and threw it on the table, then shoved the wallet back into his pocket. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Are you insane? You can’t just leave a twenty for two iced teas.” Ethan grabbed the bill and tossed it toward him. “Just give me a minute, I’ll take care of it.”
“I don’t have a minute.”
“Yeah, because you’re so fucking busy. Would you just sit the fuck down and wait a fucking minute?”
Dillon sat back, his eyes widening at the rapid succession of F-bombs dropping from Ethan’s mouth. He didn’t think he’d ever heard him say that many in a row before, at least not off the ice. He opened his mouth to say something then snapped it closed when Ethan glared at him—almost like he was daring Dillon to say something.
“Okay, Fine. I’ll wait a few minutes.”
“Yeah. Thought so.” Ethan leaned back, his shoulders relaxing. He glanced around the small restaurant then down at his watch. Looked up, glanced around again, looked back at his watch.
“What are you doing?”
“Who? Me? Nothing.”
“Then why do you keep looking at your watch?”
“I’m not.”
“Ethan, what the hell are you up to?”
“I’m not—” He glanced at something behind Dillon then nodded, a grin splitting his face. “Okay, we’re good.”
“What? Are you okay? Or did that hit last night scramble your brains?”
“No, I’m fine.” But Ethan was still looking at something behind Dillon, his grin growing wider. Dillon shifted on the bench to look over his shoulder, wondering what Ethan kept smiling at—
Dillon’s mouth dropped open as his stomach twisted and churned. Tension shot through him, drawing his shoulders up around his ears. His hands curled into fists and he spun back around, glaring at Ethan. “Are you fucking shitting me? No, I’m not doing this.”
Ethan reached across the table and grabbed his arm, holding him in place with a steely grip that might actually leave bruises. The smile was gone from Ethan’s face and the blue of his eyes had darkened. This was Ethan’s game face, all business and brute strength, serious and deadly.
“Don’t even think about getting up. Your ass is going to stay glued to that fucking bench. You hear me?”
Dillon didn’t have a chance to reply, not that he even knew how to. It was a moot point anyway because the two girls stopped beside their table, throwing a suffocating blanket of awkward silence around all four of them.
“Wow! Look who it is. What a surprise! Imagine meeting you guys here!” Cindy’s voice was filled with forced cheer. Her eyes darted back and forth between Ethan and Dillon, a wide smile on her face. Then she grabbed Maggie’s shoulder and shoved her onto the bench next to Dillon.
Literally shoved. Forcefully shoved.
Maggie stumbled and grabbed the table, dropping onto the bench with a muffled “oof” before leveling a searing glare at her friend.
Or maybe that was ex-friend now.
Dillon slid away from her, as far as he could manage with the wall next to him. That only put a few inches of space between them because the booth was a small one, meant for only two people.
Now he knew why Ethan had specifically asked for this one.
“I don’t—”
“This isn’t—”
He and Maggie started talking at the same time. Dillon clenched his jaw and sent his own heated glare in Ethan’s direction. But Ethan wasn’t paying attention. No, of course he wasn’t. Cindy had grabbed his hand and was pulling him to his feet, that same stupid smile on her face.
“This is so cool. Isn’t this cool? It is. Really cool. But, uh, I need to show Ethan something. Or talk to him. Um, about something. So, you know, you two just stay here. And talk. Or something. ‘Kay? Cool. Be right back.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
What the hell?
Dillon stared after the couple, watching them disappear, too stunned to move after them. Not that he could move anyway, not with Maggie sitting next to him. Although maybe ‘next to him’ wasn’t quite accurate. Her stiff body was perched so close to the edge of the bench that she looked like she might actually fall off.
“Maybe you’d be more comfortable sitting on the other side.” And hell, he hadn’t meant for the words to come out quite that short and cold. And he hadn’t meant for Maggie to move as fast as she did. So fast that she actually knocked into the table again, sending it wobbling between them.
She settled onto the bench across from him, her body still stiff and erect. Her head was bent forward, her dark hair
forming a curtain in front of her face. He could still see her blush, though: dark blotches of red fanning across her pale cheeks.
Too pale, like she had been sick or something. And he shouldn’t care, he really shouldn’t, not after she had just up and ditched him without a single word or excuse.
But he couldn’t not care, and that was the problem: he still cared. Too much.
Way too much.
The waitress showed up and placed their drinks on the table, her confusion showing on her face. Dillon waved her way then sat back with a sigh as he looked at the drinks. Two iced teas. He should have known something was up: Ethan didn’t drink iced tea.
“You, uh, might as well drink it. I think Ethan ordered it for you.”
Maggie’s head shot up, her eyes a little wide. The color in her face deepened even more and she looked away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know Cindy had planned this.”
“Yeah. Figured as much.” And wasn’t that just a kick in the gut? His heart had slammed into his chest when he heard the first part of her apology, thinking that maybe she was saying she was sorry for what happened. He was such a fucking idiot.
He reached for the glass and took a long swallow through the straw, practically draining it. Well, that killed all of ten seconds. Now what?
Dillon shifted again then leaned forward, propping his arms on the table. “So. I passed my final.”
“That’s, uh, good. Good. Congratulations.” Maggie nodded but she still wouldn’t look at him. Dillon sighed, wondering what the hell to say next.
Wondering why he should say anything at all. It was obvious she didn’t want to be here, obvious that she wasn’t interested. But why? That was all he wanted to know. Why? What had happened? What had changed?
“What did I do?” The question came out of his mouth before he could stop it, before he could think better of it. He wished he could take it back, wished he hadn’t said anything at all—especially when it was greeted with nothing but sharp silence.
He shook his head, calling himself every name in the book. This was ridiculous. He should just leave. Get up and leave, find a ride back home. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t move. Not yet.
Maggie finally raised her head, her gaze meeting his for a fleeting second before sliding to the table. She folded her hands in front of her and sighed. The sound was sharp, long and drawn out and full of…something.
One-Timer (The Baltimore Banners Book 9) Page 17
