My index finger follows a small line of freckles all the way down to the ink permanently etched on her skin. I have the urge to trace the slopes of planes of the cursive font with my mouth, dipping and curving with every stroke. I don’t give into the urge, but I do follow every stroke of the handwriting with the tip of my finger.
Veronica’s hand flies up and tightly wraps around my forearm, her long nails biting into my skin.
Is it fucked up of me to want her nails to leave a mark on my skin? A reminder that some part of her is feeling a fraction of what I’m feeling?
Her blue eyes face off in a silent conversation with my own. Neither one of us uses words, but somehow, we manage to say everything.
I know I promised not to talk about what’s happening between the two of us, but I’m slowly starting to come to terms with the fact that something about Veronica is making me fall back on every single promise I’ve ever made.
27
Veronica
“Okay, I’ve really tried to not say anything, but where the hell are you taking me?” I look over at Maverick in the driver’s seat, trying for the hundredth time to get him to spill on where we’re going.
He’s as tight lipped as ever, though, because all he does is give me that panty-dropping smirk. His fingers flex around the steering wheel, his lips silently moving along to the song on the radio.
We’ve been in Maverick’s SUV for thirty minutes now and I have no idea where we are. We left the suburban town of our campus and went straight to BFE. No matter what direction I look in, all the eye can see is fields of wheat. Maybe a few cows. A house every so often. But mostly, it’s fields.
I guess that’s what I get for choosing a state in the middle of the country to go to college. I just didn’t want to be anywhere near an ocean.
I’m about to complain more when I get an answer—in the form of a flip of his turn signal and a turn onto a dirt path. My back straightens in the leather seat as I try to get a better look out the window.
I pull on the bottom of my dress. Even though fall is in full swing in Kansas, it’s a warm day. My stomach growls beneath the fabric, reminding me I still haven’t eaten today. The smell of the pizza in the backseat only makes it worse. Maverick didn’t tell me where we were taking the pizza that he picked up on our way out of civilization, but he did ask what my favorite kind was.
“Just one more minute,” he says, adjusting his hips on the seat. Both of us jostle around as he drives down the unpaved road.
“For the record, I’m never agreeing to go somewhere with you ever again.” The last part comes out with a grunt because we hit a bump so large it causes my thighs to slap against each other in the seat.
Maverick chuckles, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. “Welcome to the Midwest, V.”
“You suck at surprises,” I mumble, reaching up to grab the oh shit handle. I’m two seconds away from telling Maverick to turn the car around while simultaneously feasting on a slice of pizza right here in the front seat. My mouth opens to say just that when we break through the tree line and end up in the middle of a field.
A field that surrounds a small lake.
Or is that a pond?
I don’t know what the hell to call it besides a small body of water seated right in the middle of a vast expanse of orange and yellows.
I look in every direction to take it all in. Maverick drives down the barely-there path before parking near the edge of the water. I’m too busy looking at my surroundings to hear what he says once the car stops.
I didn’t expect something so beautiful.
The water sits still in front of us, not a single crease marring the smooth surface.
Maverick puts his hand on my knee. “Veronica?”
“Huh?” I ask, looking away from the blowing wheat in the wind to look at him.
That dimple of his makes an appearance on his cheek. “What do you think?”
I look at his smile then back out to the land. “Oh, it’s okay.”
He takes his hand off my thigh. “Ready to go out there?” He reaches over me to pop open my door handle, his arm barely grazing over my chest.
As soon as my door is open, I’m hit with a smell very different from the ocean air I’m used to. This is clean, fresh, the scent of the wheat adding some musk to it.
The sound of Maverick’s door slamming causes me to jump. I look over my shoulder to find him opening the door to the backseat to grab the pizza.
I tentatively step one leg out of the car, making sure there’s solid footing underneath my foot before I completely get out. The dried grass crunches underneath my boots as I walk to the front of the SUV. A few yards away from us sits the calm body of water.
There’s a large forest to our right filled with various degrees of dying leaves, with some scattered about on the field. Some still cling to their old branches. I’ve always found it interesting that we find leaves most beautiful in the stages just before they die.
Maverick whistles, causing me to jump. When I look at him, I notice his hands are full.
He’s clutching a bag in his left hand, and something clinks around in it when he goes to shift the blanket that’s propped over his shoulder. He has the pizza box in his other hand. “Follow me.” He nods his head toward the water and I fall in step behind him.
“This land is actually owned by my grandfather,” Maverick says as he tries to kick a path for us through the tall grass. “It’s been in our family for generations. I spent so much of my life running through these fields with Lil.”
He stops directly in front of me, a few steps away from the peaceful water. I almost crash into him because I’m admiring the land, imagining him and Lily running around here as children.
Maverick juggles everything but the blanket in one hand as he uses the other hand to fluff out the blanket. I end up helping him before he almost drops the pizza box in the process. He’s brought us to a flat part of grass, the field a little shorter here by the water than where we parked. I help him lay the blanket flat, listening to him rattle on about how he grew up here. He mentions something about how many ticks he’s pulled off himself after playing in this field and I smile.
Once the blanket is flat, Maverick places his items on top of it before sitting down. He raises his eyebrows and smirks, waiting for me to follow his lead. I hesitantly look around the space, making sure there aren’t any visible ticks or creatures near me.
I sit on the edge of the blanket across from him, stretching my legs out in front of me and pulling the dress down my thighs at the same time. I cross my combat boots over my ankles, the pink toes of the boots resting right by Maverick’s knees.
“What do you think?” he asks as he props the pizza box open, the smell of the cheese and pepperoni making my mouth salivate. “Shit. I forgot plates.” Maverick looks at me, a grimace on his face. He cautiously watches me, like he’s checking if it’s a big deal.
I shrug and reach across the blanket to grab a pepperoni slice. My eyes stay trained on his as I take a large bite of it, not caring about a plate at all. I want to moan over the pizza it’s so good. My jaw slowly chews, savoring the flavor of what’s probably the best pizza I’ve ever had.
Maverick mimics my motion, reaching in and plucking a slice for himself. He takes a large bite, staring at me as he chews. His large Adam’s apple move as he swallows. “Another one of your contradictions, Veronica,” he says before taking another bite of his pizza. “You better watch out, before you know it, I’ll have them all figured out.”
I take another bite to avoid responding to him right away. Him figuring me out is exactly what I’m afraid of. I’m terrified that he’ll figure everything out about me, and still want to stay.
I would rather him run. He’s too good not to run.
Connor knew all about my shattered pieces, and he chose to stay. Look what it did to him.
“What do you mean, my contradictions?” I use the corner of the blanket to wipe the grease off my ha
nds once I finish my pizza.
Maverick stares at the last bite of his slice before he begins to talk. “I don’t know, it’s something I kind of noticed about you on the first day I met you. You’re just kind of a contradiction. You have this attitude that’s supposed to scare everyone away and seems—”
“Dark?” I ask with a smirk.
He tips his pizza slice at me. “Yeah, dark. And it sounds dumb now that I’m saying it out loud, but you just have this air about you that doesn’t strike me as girly. Yet you walk around in the girliest, sweetest pair of pink floral boots. You scream goth and spoiled rich girl all at the same time.”
“What’s wrong with being both?” I ask.
Maverick grins, his mouth still full of pizza.
I wait for him to finish chewing, bumping his knee with one of my boots that, apparently, he’s put a lot of thought into.
“You can be both,” he says. “I actually love that you’re both, but that doesn’t make you any less of a contradiction.” He points to the pizza box, silently inquiring if I want more.
I shake my head at him, my appetite curbed for the time being. “Tell me more about these contradictions I have.” My hands pull at the strands of my hair as I look over at him.
His back is facing the water as he pulls his legs out of a cross-legged position and stretches them out across the blanket. We both sit with our feet outstretched on the blanket. Maverick’s propped elbow now rests right next to my foot.
“On the day I first met you, I remember thinking how odd it was that a face as beautiful and serene as yours could be giving a look of hate like the one you had on, staring at that damn board,” he says.
My teeth pull on my lip as I think back to that day, back to that dumb quote and how angry it made me. “I see.” I pull my eyes off the water to look at Maverick again.
He’s watching me closely, his fingers playing with a blade of grass. He doesn’t say anything; he just stares at me for a few moments longer with a thoughtful look on his face. Then, his gaze travels to the expanse of land around us.
It really is beautiful to look at. It’s about midafternoon, and the field is mostly silent around us. Every now and then, you can hear the rustling of the field when the wind blows. It’s peaceful, the way the tall grass dances back and forth with the breeze. We stay silent for a while, the both of us lost in our own worlds.
Maverick is too busy picking at the grass to notice me staring at him. I seize the opportunity to analyze him without having him analyze me in return. He wears a pair of jeans, and the same Adidas on his feet from the day we met.
The hoodie he has on is simple and black. My eyes make it to his face—the face I hadn’t ever wanted to admit was so strikingly handsome. That straight nose of his is sitting above his perfect set of lips. A set of lips I’m still reeling from after feeling them against my own. The way they moved against mine is something I will never be able to wash from my memory—no matter how hard I try.
I follow the sharp edge of his cheekbone, to the exact spot I’ve seen tension and frustration apparent on him. I keep moving up his jawline until I reach his hair, the hair that’s dark brown and perfectly long at the top. I wonder how long I would have denied how badly my fingers had always itched to run through the locks, to grab onto them and force his head against mine.
And those eyes. Those blue eyes the same color of the ocean that took my first love from me. The eyes that just looked up at me, framed in long dark eyelashes.
We maintain eye contact for one, two, three seconds before I ruin the moment and finally ask, “What happened with Selma?”
28
Veronica
I await his response, my heart on edge. I know he wouldn’t be here with me unless he was fully single, even if I had no intentions of taking things any further with us.
But I also know we’re past an innocent friendship at this point.
What I don’t know is what could have happened between the two of them to cause them to break up after so many years—or why he’s chosen to be here with me.
So many questions run through my head while I wait for him to answer. I almost wish it wasn’t so silent in this field—it leaves me too alone with my thoughts. An agonizing amount of time passes before he finally responds.
“We broke up. It was a long time coming, actually. Neither of us realized that. Or at least, neither of us wanted to admit it.” Maverick sits up and pulls his legs toward him, his knees resting right in front of his chest. His body now sits closer to mine.
I could reach out and touch his face if I wanted to. “Admit what, exactly?” I trace the pattern of the blanket with my finger, giving myself something to do while he continues to explain. I’m still staring down at the lines on the blanket when he speaks again.
“Selma will always be one of the most important people in my life. That will never change. But Selma and I haven’t been in love with each other for a long time, if ever. I love her with every single part of me, but that isn’t the same as being in love with her. And she finally realized that. So, she left. She ended it.” The emotion is clear in his voice.
Whatever happened between them, I can tell it was hard for him, something he’s still processing.
“Are you okay that things ended with her?” I’m nervous to hear his answer. I want him to say yes. I want him to be fully okay that he isn’t with her anymore. Which is completely selfish of me, because I don’t want to just be her replacement. Though I’m not naïve enough to try and convince myself I won’t be hurt if he says he isn’t okay about it.
Who is this guy and how have I let him in like this?
How could I allow myself to get hurt by another man?
More importantly, how could I allow myself to possibly hurt another person again?
“Look at me,” he says, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I didn’t realize I was still avoiding looking at him until now. I raise my head, doing as he says. Our faces are too close. But I don’t dare move away. I’m struck by the look of determination on his face.
He reaches for my hand on the blanket, his pinky wrapping around mine. I stare at our intertwined fingers for a few moments, looking at the contrast of his tan pinky against my pale one. My gaze leaves our hands and I look back up at him.
His stare is intense as he says, “I’m glad things ended with her. They needed to end. I don’t want back with her. I don’t know what exactly I want.”
His eyes drop to the words written underneath my collarbone for a brief moment.
“But I do know the relationship Selma and I had wasn’t healthy,” he says. “I think I was trying to make her into someone she wasn’t, so I could feel better about myself. And I think she was too afraid of being who she really was. It wasn’t a good combination. We were stuck in the roles we let each other play.”
“But you were together so long.” I move my hand so not only my pinky touches his, but the rest of my fingers brush against his as well.
He lets out a breath, long and steady like the breeze blowing the grass around us. “Yeah, well, I’m starting to learn that time isn’t everything. I was with her for a long time and never felt the things I’ve felt recently.”
“Maverick,” I begin, after he fully wraps his hand around mine. I look down.
We’re holding hands.
He pulls my hand so it rests on the top of his knees. His head leans down and gives my knuckles a featherlight kiss. It makes everything in my body tighten. I feel like a rubber band that’s been pulled and pulled, and I’m on the brink of snapping.
His touch might make me snap.
Or maybe those lips.
Or the look on his face that’s so vulnerable, so trusting, so determined that it sends my heart into overdrive. I have feelings for him, feelings I don’t understand at all, but they’re there—hiding underneath my insecurities and facades, ready to make an appearance.
“I told you I can’t do this with you.” My voice comes out hoarse, t
he scratchy tone filling the silence around us. My fingers grip his tightly as I look at him, conveying how serious I am.
“We don’t have to talk about it. Really,” he says. “I’m going to be selfish and take you in whatever way I can get you. Even if it’s just as friends. But I need you to know that I feel something for you I haven’t felt before. It’s new for me, and I’m still trying to understand it but…I have to make sure you know that I’m looking at you. I’m looking at every bruised part of you and I’m not afraid by any of it.”
I want to cry—and by the way my throat starts to close up, I know that I’m close. I don’t want to cry in front of him. I don’t want him to know how much his words mean to me. I try to think of a way to respond, but my resolve to push him away is slowly breaking.
There’s only so much good I can do.
There’s only so many times I can try to avoid being selfish before I break.
It’s in my nature.
I’m about to give into him. To admit that my heart might actually feeling something for him, too. But I don’t get the chance because he makes the first move. His hands reach for the narrow of my waist and pull. In one fluid moment, he’s turned me around and pulled my back to his chest. I sit nestled in between his long legs, staring out at the view. I’m completely enveloped by him. His arms wrap around my middle, gently enough that if I want to move away from him, I can.
I should get away, but this feels too nice. It feels good to lean against him. To feel the way his strong abdominal muscles flex against my back. To feel the warmth of his toned arms around me. I love the way his head rests on my shoulder—right next to my own.
“Will you tell me about your last relationship now?” he asks softly.
His question stuns me and makes me want to weep at the same time. Here is this man, in the midst of his own mess, and somehow, he still cares about mine.
The Consequence of Loving Me: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Aftershock Series Book 1) Page 15
