Maverick takes the few steps to my bed and I curiously watch him climb onto it, where he pulls his long legs in to sit cross-legged across from me.
“What do you mean among other things?” I reach for a hanger at the same time the heater kicks on. The sound of the air flow is the only sound in the room as he thinks over his response to my blatant intrusion into his life.
“Look,” he says.
His blue gaze pins me to my spot. My hands freeze as I stop halfway through putting a red blouse on a hanger.
He continues to stare at me with his next words. “I haven’t asked into your personal life, so let’s not get into mine. The spark notes version of my relationship with Selma is that we were friends that turned into something more. And now, we continue to navigate that something more.” His eyes bore into mine for a moment longer before he picks up a hanger of his own and begins to hang one of my jean jackets on it.
“Well, you two seem perfect for each other. Happy,” I say, my hands finishing their job of hanging the blouse. We both place newly-hung clothing in the growing pile.
“I love her,” he states, making sure my eyes look at him before he starts his next task.
For some reason, his words make my stomach roll. I’m not sure why I feel those words all the way down to my core, but I do—and I have to get us to a new topic. I know I’m not jealous that he loves her.
I think I’m just slightly jealous that she’s somebody worthy of love.
“So, tell me about this twin sister of yours,” I say, successfully changing the subject.
He laughs, releasing a long sigh.
I sit there, continuing my task of hanging clothes, as his eyes rest on me. I can feel them examining my face, and I definitely feel them as they make their way down. They finally stop to rest on my hands as I work to hang the sweater.
“My twin sister is the complete opposite of me,” he says. “I like to be a wallflower, take in my surroundings. She likes the attention to be fully on her. Where I’m calm, she is every bit of wild.”
It’s my turn now to stare at his hands. Since the sleeves of his hoodie are still rolled up, the muscles in his arm feather as he hangs one article of clothing after the other. I can’t remember the last time I spoke to a man who wanted nothing from me. My body, my passion, my desire.
“I like her already.” A smile breaks on my face, one that is genuine.
Maverick shakes his head, a smile forming on his face as well. “You two will be a match made in heaven. Or maybe it’s hell. I’m actually kind of worried for the rest of us when the two of you strike up a friendship.”
The sound of the heater turns off once again, leaving it almost completely silent in the room. Occasionally, there’s the sound of a hanger bumping against another, but other than that, it’s so quiet.
My mind wanders to the few friends I have. After thinking for a moment, I realize I don’t really have any friends anymore. At one point in my life, I had many. Everyone wanted to be my friend. At least that’s how it felt. But that time is in the past, and now I’d rather be without them. Without friends. Without anyone close.
Or so I thought. The more I get to know Maverick, and the more I hear about his twin, the more I realize I might like to be friends with the Morrison twins.
I’m content in the silence, lost in my own thoughts, but the tenor of Maverick’s voice calls me back to where we are.
“My parents always say that when we were little, they were completely convinced one of us was switched at birth because we were so opposite,” he says. “I never cried, and according to them, I essentially raised myself, whereas Lily needed supervision at all times. She constantly wanted to be held and would scream all night until someone picked her up. Lily still has that set of lungs on her, too. You should hear her when she and Aspen get in their classic arguments. I’m convinced people can hear them all the way on campus when they really get going.”
The pile of clothes ready to hang has grown so big I’m afraid if we set anything else on top of it, it will go toppling down. I crawl off the bed and start to arrange the clothes in my hand so I can hang them in the closet.
“Why do they yell at each other?” I ask from inside my closet.
“Because they’re basically the same people in two different bodies who happen to be attracted to each other.”
I jump when Maverick’s voice comes from the doorway. I was so distracted hanging my clothes in the appropriate spots that I didn’t realize he’d gotten off the bed. Now, he’s holding the rest of my clothes for me to hang.
“Wait a minute. Aspen has a thing for your sister?” I gawk. “And she has a thing for him?” I take the next piece of clothing from his hands and hang it with the rest of my T-shirts.
He laughs. “Well, yes and no. Neither one of them will admit it, but anyone in the same state as them can feel the chemistry burning. I’m not sure either one of them will do anything about it, though. They’re both too content with hating each other to realize they like each other.”
My mind turns this new information around. I have a feeling I’d like Lily based on Maverick’s description of her, but I find it ludicrous she could be attracted to somebody like Aspen. To each their own, I guess.
As I take the last few pieces of clothing from Maverick’s hand, his phone vibrates from the pocket of his sweatshirt.
He pulls it out, his eyebrows pulling together as he reads whatever’s on the screen. He shoves it back into his pocket and looks at me. “I’ve got to take this.”
I nod. We both stand across from each other awkwardly. “I’ll see you later, Maverick.”
He quietly mumbles a goodbye and leaves the room.
As his footsteps sound over my head, I finish hanging the rest of my clothes. It sounds like he’s pacing up there, but I can’t be sure. All I know is he continues to walk around for twenty more minutes as I finish unpacking for the night.
Finally, a door slams, letting me know he left.
Now, alone in the house—and alone in my head—my mind wanders to times I have no business reminiscing on.
Veronica
Four Years Ago
The gymnasium walls of East Point High School reverberate from the sounds of the speakers. Homecoming has the gym packed with sweaty adolescents. I try to maneuver my way around a group of senior girls dancing to Usher and singing horribly off-key at the top of their lungs.
“Veronica! Wait up,” my friend Daisy yells from a few yards away.
I feel my eyes roll in my head. I just wanted a moment of peace away from my meat-head date—and Daisy isn’t exactly my definition of peace.
Her nasally voice falls in line right next to me. “Where’s Jeff?” She looks around the gym to try to spot my date.
Daisy has always had a thing for Jeff, and she didn’t talk to me for a week when he asked me to the dance instead of her.
“Probably in a circle jerk with his football friends,” I retort, laughing at the mental picture.
Jeff is a nice guy—kind of. When he stops talking about himself for more than two seconds, that is. I can’t blame him really. I’m not sure there’s very much room left in his brain for intelligence judging by how huge his ego is.
Daisy raises her perfectly plucked eyebrows, her eyes going wide at the same mental picture. “Gross.”
I reach a quiet corner of the gym after that, finally able to take a deep breath that doesn’t smell like bodily odor or cheap perfume. “Go dance with him, Daisy,” I say, not bothering to hide my annoyance with her.
“W-what?” she stutters out.
She fumbles with the rose of her corsage—a yellow one that goes with her sleek black dress.
“I said you can go dance with him,” I repeat, getting more frustrated by the second.
“But he asked you?” Daisy looks at me with a face filled with confusion.
I can’t help but think that maybe she and Jeff would be perfect together. Their conversations definitely wouldn’t be of the
deep matter, that’s for sure. “Yes, he asked me, but you like him. So, go dance with him. I’m not into him anyway.”
Daisy’s pretty face breaks out into a huge grin that showcases her almost-perfectly-straight teeth. Her thin arms wrap around me in an embrace before she begins to shout in my ear. “You’re the best, Veronica!” And then her brown hair bounces with her hasty steps back to the dance floor.
I take a long inhale in, finally happy in solace for the first time tonight. It’s not that I’m not into school dances or anything. I’m a sixteen-year-old girl; dances are what we live for. But after grinding against Jeff’s very noticeable hard-on for the last hour, I needed a break. It became way too tiresome to direct his sweaty hands away from going up my skirt.
“You’re the best, Veronica!” a high-pitched—and very sarcastic—voice says behind me.
I turn around to see a guy leaning up against the bleachers. It’s dark where he stands, and I can’t quite make out his features to determine who he is. “Excuse me?” I ask, taking a step closer to the darkness.
“I find it so funny that you’re so worshiped by your pretty little group of airheads that one seriously thanks you for allowing her to dance with a guy she’s so obviously been obsessed with since freshman year,” he explains.
The DJ switches to a cheesy slow song, making the gymnasium not quite as loud as before. I step closer to the voice and come face-to-face with the rude asshole who’s apparently hell bent on insulting me tonight.
I wish I recognized him. East Point is a fairly large high school, and I admit I don’t quite take my time remembering every face that attends here.
“She was being polite. He was my date after all,” I snarkily respond, trying hard not to notice that no matter how big of an asshole this guy is, he’s kind of cute.
He’s wearing a pair of black dress pants—like every other guy in the gym—but instead of the cookie-cutter white button-up shirt and tie, he has on a pastel-printed argyle shirt with a pink bow-tie. And he’s pulling it off nicely.
He throws his head back in a laugh, exposing his strong throat and Adam’s apple. “Oh my god,” he says. “You really thought you were doing the whole world a favor by letting her dance with him, didn’t you?” His hands run down his face with his laughter, pulling at his cheeks and making them appear larger.
I pull my face into a scowl. I really don’t know what he’s trying to hint at here. Jeff is my date. Of course Daisy should have asked before she went and grinded her ass against his Netherland.
“And who are you again?” I ask him, my hand finding my hip as I glare at him.
When he finally answers, he says, “Of course you don’t know who I am. Why would East Point’s princess know anybody that isn’t in her royal posse?”
My jaw falls open. I don’t know what I’ve ever done to this guy to warrant the third degree he’s currently giving me. My heart beats faster in my chest as adrenaline pumps through my veins. If I didn’t fear the unnecessary attention from others—the bad kind of attention—I probably would have slapped this guy already.
Normally I don’t stop to care what people think of me, but for some reason it irks me that this stranger has such a low opinion of me.
“Look, I’m sorry if this damages the obviously large ego you have, but no, I don’t know your name. If you tell me it, maybe we can get past whatever grudge you have toward me,” I say, absentmindedly spinning one of my long blonde curls around my finger in nervous habit.
He narrows his eyes at me, obviously considering his next move. “Connor Liams.”
I extend my hand out to him, my thick stack of bracelets jingling with the motion. “Nice to meet you, Connor Liams. I’m Veronica Cunningham.”
The corner of his lip lifts in a hint of a smile. The longer I look at him, the more I realize he is really cute. A mop of curly, dirty blond hair sits at the top of his head. It’s hardly tamed, and it looks like parts of it might even still be wet, like he just quickly showered and threw on whatever he could find for homecoming. I notice a boutonniere pinned to his chest, reminding me of the fact that he must have arrived with a date.
I wonder where she is, but I don’t ask.
“I know who you are,” he says, his green eyes crinkling at the corner with a smile.
“Well, I don’t know who you are,” I reply as the DJ switches back to an upbeat song. I take a step closer to him, knowing whatever his next words will be that it’ll be harder to hear him over the sounds of the DJ.
“And I guarantee you won’t spend the time to get to know me,” he bluntly says.
I don’t like being told what to do, and I don’t take well to people telling me about myself. “Try me.”
His cheeks spread in a wide smile as he pushes himself off the bleachers. He finally extends a hand toward me, and I don’t hesitate to take it. His large hand engulfs mine; it’s warm and even a bit sweaty—but for some reason, it feels right.
So, I let the complete stranger—who obviously isn’t my biggest fan—lead me out of the crowded high school homecoming, unknowing where we’d end up next.
9
Veronica
The sound of feet stomping above my head wakes me from the vivid memory in my dream. Something hard digs into my stomach and when I roll over, I realize it’s one of the hangers from the night before. I must have fallen asleep after Maverick left. I let my eyes drift closed once more when the sound of stomping once again shakes the ceiling of my basement bedroom.
“Ugh!” I grumble against my silk pillowcase. I’m fairly confident I could kill Aspen I’m so angry.
Selma is too skinny to be making that much noise and Maverick moves with too much grace. That only leaves my dear friend Aspen. And he is suddenly very high on my shit list.
Rolling over, I rub my eyes, trying to clear my head from the dream I was having. A nightmare, really, now that it’s over. In it, I was still with Connor. And I’m struck with the harsh reality that he’s not here with me.
I rarely let my mind wander to my high school days. There’s nothing for me to remember from that time of my life other than pain and devastation. When I let my wander to those days after Maverick left last night, it sent me into a spiral of memories. The recollections following me even after I finally closed my eyes—hoping to escape them.
I’m just starting to get out of bed when a knock sounds at my door. I didn’t even hear anyone come down the stairs, but I get up to open it regardless.
“Aspen, I might full on throttle you for waking me up,” I say, opening the door expecting to find Aspen on the other side, but instead there’s a grinning Maverick.
“Oh, Veronica.” He sighs. “Please don’t ever say that to Aspen as a threat. He will view that as more of a prize.”
“Shit. You’re right.” I leave the door open and walk back into my room, not worried if Maverick is coming in or not.
Walking over to my mirror, I remember I am still in my pajamas. I look down at them before looking back up at Maverick. “Mind waiting out there for a minute? I need to change.” He nods, walking out the door he just came in.
“Aren’t you going to be late for class?” His voice echoes from the other side of the wall.
I quickly undress, putting on a fresh bra and new underwear. I reach for the first articles of clothing I can find. When I’m fully dressed, I peek out into the common area of the basement. I find him staring at the black TV screen, his hands shoved into the pockets of his tan chino pants and his backpack slung lazily over one of his shoulders.
“Maybe,” I respond to his question from earlier.
I roll my eyes as the stomping above our heads persists. It sounds like an elephant is up there. Honestly, it’s impressive somebody with that toned of a body type can make this much noise.
“I happen to be in the same class as you and I can confirm we are about to be very late if you don’t get ready right this moment,” Maverick says.
I roll my eyes. I’m late to this class eve
ry time I have it, but I don’t have to point that out to him. I grab a pair of socks from a basket on the shelf and slip them on my feet, a pair of tennis shoes following after.
My hands are pulling my hair into a messy bun when he steps back into my room.
I check my phone as I pull it off the charger and throw it into my purse. The belongings in my purse rustle around as I open it to double check that my laptop is still in there. I guess if Maverick’s going to make me attend class, I should at least bring what I need.
“How long did it take you to realize we shared a class?” I ask, sidestepping him to get out of my room. The lecture hall we’re in fits up to two-hundred people, making it easy to forget all the faces. I hadn’t known we were in the same class, but it’s not like I ever try to notice anyone. I spend most of the lectures doodling in my notebook, not bothering to pay attention to my surroundings. Our arms brush as I make my way to the basement bathroom.
I let out a long breath as I take in my appearance. I’d prefer to put makeup on before leaving, but I’m vain enough to know I don’t need it. I do have a sleep indention on my face from something I fell asleep on, though. The sound of running water fills the bathroom as I hold my toothbrush underneath it.
Maverick appears in the doorway. “I noticed you during the first class. It was kind of hard to miss the fact that somebody was fifteen minutes late on the first day.”
I smile even though my toothbrush is in my mouth. “It was syllabus week,” I retort, but it sounds jumbled because I have a mouthful of toothpaste and spit.
His wet hair flops around as he shakes his head, laughing. “I thought our professor was gonna have a heart attack when you said that to his face. I’ve never seen that shade of red on a human being before.”
I spit out the toothpaste and use the cup next to the sink to rinse out the rest of my mouth. My eyes sadly look at my skincare products so neatly laid out on the counter. I don’t have time to do my whole regimen this morning if we’re going to get to class on time.
The Consequence of Loving Me: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Aftershock Series Book 1) Page 5
