Chapter 8 Beef Tongue Stew
Beef Tongue Stew
Connor
Isuck in a lungful of the heated chlorine air, then spray the last of my water into my mouth. The break before our last set is almost up, but my eyes are glued to the diving well where Maisie is currently getting an earful from her coach.
“Just try it in pike! What is the worst that is going to happen? You can’t compete this in tuck at this level.”
My chest constricts. She doesn’t need to yell to get her point across.
Maisie’s shoulders bunch. She doesn’t say anything, just nods as she bites at the skin around her nails. I hate seeing her like this.
My own coach blows the whistle for us to get moving, but as I glide through the water, I’m thinking of ways to turn Maisie’s day around.
After practice, I shower quickly, hoping to catch her before she leaves, but after waiting outside the women’s locker room for what is arguably a creepy amount of time, I give up waiting.
But I don’t give up on her. I send off a text before walking home.
Bad day?
Maize: I’ve had worse. Nothing some beef tongue stew can’t fix
Beef tongue stew?
Maize: It was the most old people food I could think of. Ya know, to go with our old people cereal
Her day must already be turning around if she’s joking like this. I smile, then type back.
How about some liver and onions? That always does it for me.
Maize: Haha that’s just gross.
Grosser than beef tongue stew??
Maize: Alright alright. Both are disgusting. Old people can’t have everything right I guess.
So seriously, you ok?
She doesn’t text back right away. I decide to shoot my shot.
I was thinking maybe a Marvel movie was in order?
The typing dots appear and disappear a few times before her text comes in.
Maize: You know what? I think that’s just what the doctor ordered. I’ll queue up the movie, you bring the snacks :)
Pudding cups and applesauce? Don’t want you to have to put in your dentures on my account, Betty.
Maize: Haha. Betty?
Betty White, the crowning glory of all old people.
Maize: But she’s dead!
Yea, but no one has taken up her post as the coolest old person alive yet, so it still counts.
Maize: You’re such a weirdo lol
Be over soon White ;)
I swing by the campus store to load up on snacks. I think about texting her to see what she wants specifically, but then decide to get a truckload, so she can just pick what she likes. The guys will eat whatever she doesn’t want. They’re practically human trash cans.
Before I know it, I’m outside her room, and suddenly, my face feels hot. I’m nervous, but I work up the courage to knock. She swings the door open with a dazzling smile, and I am once again struck by how beautiful she is.
“What did you bring me?” She eyes the plastic grocery bag in my hand.
“The better question is, what didn’t I bring you?” I laugh, then step into the small dorm room. I trip over a pair of shoes, but right myself quickly. That would have been embarrassing.
“Sorry about that,” she says. “Angie is a bit of a space disaster. You’ll get used to it.”
I scratch my chest. She’s implying there will be many more visits here. I loose a breath. Friends, I remind myself, then add, Boyfriend, for good measure, although that makes me grind my teeth.
Maisie, picking up a few things throughout the room, looks back at me, standing here like some sort of oaf. The way she can make me lose all sense is remarkable.
“You okay?” she asks, snagging her bottom lip between her teeth.
I want to use my thumb to release it, but that wouldn’t be very friend-ly of me.
Instead, I smile, trying to ease any tension she might feel from the angry vibe I was putting off.
Especially after witnessing the way Karsen reacted around her, I don’t ever want her to feel unsafe with me.
“I’m dandy,” I respond, moving further into the room. “This one yours?” I point to the pristinely made bed.
“How’d you know?” She laughs and pats it like a prized possession.
“Lucky guess.” I wink and dump the contents of the bag onto her bed.
Her eyes widen for a moment, but then she gets to sorting.
“Wow. You brought—” she points and counts silently in her head “—three bags of chips, two kinds of popcorn, four varieties of soda, six kinds of candy—a mix of chocolate and sour—and two pints of ice cream? Are you planning to feed a small army?”
“Nope, just one girl who I wanted to have choices.”
She looks at me then, and her expression is hard to read. Her eyebrows are raised, her eyes soft, but there’s a slight frown on her face. Did I do something wrong?
“That was…really thoughtful of you. Thank you, Connor.” She hugs herself like she’s unsure of what to do with her arms.
I step into her space, hold up my hands by her arms, then look to her for permission. She nods, and I unwrap her arms from her body, lingering for only a second longer than is strictly necessary. Her smooth skin against my hands sends lightning up my arms, straight to my heart.
I eye the snack setup, and her gaze follows. “Anything you like?”
When I look back at her expectantly, she relinquishes a smile that I memorize. A mental picture for later.
“Cool Ranch Doritos and root beer are my favorite. And ice cream. I’m not sure I can express how much I love ice cream.” Her cheeks redden, and it’s the best damn thing.
“I figured,” I say, “since you were wearing an ice cream cone necklace at the party the other night.”
“You noticed that?” she asks, fumbling to open the bag of chips.
I reach out, take the bag, open it with one tug, and hand it back.
“I did.” I’m not sure what else to say. I’m not going to say, “Hey, I think I might be head over heels for you if the way I can’t stop thinking about you and react when I’m around you is any indication.
” That would probably freak her out, and I doubt we’d be hanging out anymore after that.
I’d rather have her as a friend than nothing at all, so I cool it.
She tucks her hair behind her ear. “Which snacks do you want?”
I pluck up a bag of popcorn, some chocolate, and the ginger ale. She raises an eyebrow at me.
“What?” I ask, moving the rest of the haul to the desk by the window.
She shakes her head. “Ginger ale is such an old-person soda.”
“Well, I like it.”
“I like that you like it,” she says, and her cheeks brighten with color once again. “Grab the laptop while you’re over there?”
I bring the laptop over to the bed, which she has already climbed onto and scooted back against the wall it’s leaned up against. She pats the spot next to her.
Setting the laptop down, I shift my snack haul to the side, then settle in beside her.
My heart is pounding, and I’m worried she can hear it.
But she seems focused on setting up the movie.
When it starts playing, she dips a plastic spoon into her ice cream, flips it over, and curls her kissable lips around it in a smile.
“I can’t wait for you to experience this,” she says.
“Me either.” Because I want to know about everything that she loves. I want to love it too.
As the movie plays, I try to pay attention, but I’m too aware of her, of my own body, of the taut air between us.
We’re a respectable distance apart, but her lavender scent is wafting my way.
She watches me every time she wants to see my reaction to a scene, and she also covers her mouth anytime she’s nervous about what will happen next—which I find adorable considering how many times she’s told me she’s watched this movie. Fifteen.
As much as I am aware of the warmth radiating between us, it’s just as much comfort as it is attraction. Maisie is kind, passionate, and fun. She’s easy to be around, and I’m thankful to be spending time with her.
The movie ends, and she stretches her arms above her head, yawning. “Thanks for this,” she says.
“I’m the one who should be thanking you. I would have missed out on this amazing movie if it weren’t for you.”
She beams, and I slip off the bed, collecting our trash and organizing the unopened snacks on her desk. I’m leaving them here; the guys can fend for themselves.
“Maybe another one soon?” she asks, dragging that lip between her teeth again.
This time, I can’t help it. I step closer, reach up, giving her all the time in the world to move, then gently release it.
“Oh,” she says and blushes. “Thanks. I guess I pick at more than just my nails.” Her eyes flit to the side, one shoulder shrugging.
“I’ll keep reminding you if you want,” I practically whisper.
“I wouldn’t hate that,” she says, and we smile at each other.
“I’ll get going. And to answer your question, yes. Definitely another one soon. Text me anytime. Have sweet dreams, Betty.”
“Thanks, Connor. Good night.”
I slip out the door and walk home with a huge grin on my face.