Chapter 18 Maia
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
MAIA
As I spun on the dance floor to Queen (the music was a great eclectic mix of new and old hits), my mind spun too.
Baird’s erection situation had been hot.
Then funny. Now it was confusingly hot again.
He was a young guy. Twenty-six. But … John was right.
This was a situation a teenage boy might find themselves in.
Somehow it wasn’t off-putting. It was … it was seriously hot that Baird found me so attractive he couldn’t get a handle on his hard-on.
However, that also meant that Baird genuinely wanted to have sex with me.
We couldn’t have sex.
I mean, we could, and it would maybe defuse the heat between us.
God, that kiss … My lips still tingled.
No. I shook my head. A one-night stand would ultimately make me feel icky.
I wasn’t built for casual sex.
Right?
Or did I just think I wasn’t built for casual sex?
There was no denying that my underwear was now damp from the best kiss a man had ever given me. I was wet from a make-out session. That had never happened!
While I tried to untangle my increasingly confusing crush on Baird, Ainsley had sidled up with some redheaded girl and started dancing beside me. Baird’s sister gave me a knowing smirk that I ignored, but I was grateful to her for keeping me company while Baird buggered off to the bar.
Four songs passed, and he didn’t return.
That wasn’t exactly the plan for damage control.
My gaze swept the bar, dreading seeing him chatting to some other woman. When I found him, relief moved through me. He leaned his back against the countertop, nursing a beer, and watching me with uncharacteristic broodiness.
That was hot too.
I was just about to make my way over to him, telling myself it was because there were eyes on us and we couldn’t look like we had fallen out, when the track changed. A recognizable tune blasted through the speakers, those first pop synth notes slamming into me so hard I stumbled to a stop.
“Kids” by MGMT.
When the lyrics hit, my chest tightened as memories slammed through my mind. My skin tingled and I was suddenly lightheaded.
I could see Mum dancing across from me in the kitchen as we shouted the lyrics to each other. My happiest memories of her—and my worst.
I hated that goddamn song.
It rarely ever played anywhere.
But when it did …
I needed air.
Stumbling toward the exit, I was vaguely aware of Ainsley calling my name, of people cursing at me as I shoved them aside.
I was almost at the front entrance when a strong hand curled around my biceps.
“Maia.”
Staring up at Baird’s face, the nausea pitched in my stomach. “Air.”
He cursed under his breath and wound his arm around my waist, leading me out and down the side of the front steps away from the waiting queue. As soon as we were a few feet from the building, I turned, bent over, and threw up against the wall.
Baird caught my hair with catlike reflexes, holding it as his other hand made soothing circles on my back.
Finally, I stopped retching, but I was trembling so hard, I couldn’t even feel embarrassed as I straightened. I was too busy trying to breathe normally. What the hell? What the actual hell?!
“Shit, My.” Baird lowered his face to mine. “What is going on? Are you having a panic attack?”
Was I? I stared up at him wide-eyed and terrified as I found myself hyperventilating. Was I going to die? I felt like I might die.
“Look at me, My. Breathe with me. It’s okay. You’re okay. Breathe in.” He took a deliberate slow inhale. “Breathe out.” He exhaled. And then he repeated it. I focused on his mouth and attempted to follow suit. It seemed to take forever, but slowly, my breathing normalized.
Shocked by what had just occurred, I burst into tears.
Baird wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. I heard his murmured words of comfort, felt his soft kisses across my head and temple. And I felt safe. I felt safe to just cry.
“I texted Ainsley,” Baird said, holding tight to my hand as we walked back to my place. “Explained we’d left.”
I nodded, still shaken from what I’d experienced and, honestly, feeling stupid. Like I’d totally overreacted.
It wasn’t the first time.
Back at uni, when I lived in London, in second year, my roommates and I were friends with a group of lads in our dorm. We were hanging out at theirs, having a few beers, having a few laughs. Music was playing in the background. A playlist one of the lads made up.
“Kids” by MGMT came on.
I’d been mid-conversation with my roommate Shelly when I’d been lambasted with memories of Mum and that song. Before I knew it, Shelly had my head between my legs, coaxing me to breathe.
Not once did I acknowledge I’d had a panic attack in that moment.
How could it be a panic attack when it was only ever triggered by that song? Beth had recently told me she had an anxiety disorder, and she suffered from panic attacks. They weren’t triggered by only one thing.
Right?
Why a bloody song?
“What happened in there, My?” Baird asked quietly, never letting go of my hand. “I saw your face. You looked like someone punched you in the stomach.”
How did I explain without sounding nuts?
He squeezed my hand. “My, you can tell me anything.”
My heel caught on a cobble, and I toppled sideways on my shaky legs. Baird was there in an instant, his arm around my waist, steadying me.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured.
Aye, he did, didn’t he?
I stared up at him, a million wishes rushing up inside of me with frustration. Yet it wasn’t his fault I was catching feelings. I was not allowed to be frustrated by that.
Baird might not have been my real fiancé, but he was my real friend.
Possibly my best friend.
I righted myself and he released my waist but not my hand. “I must look a mess,” I whispered, ducking my head as we continued to walk.
“You could never be a mess, Maia.”
I scoffed, finally feeling the embarrassment of Baird holding my hair back. Groaning, I covered my face with my free hand. “You saw me upchuck.”
He tugged on my wrist, his tone amused. “Babe, do you know how many times I’ve thrown up outside of a nightclub?”
My lips curled in a grateful smile. “Maybe you shouldn’t tell me the number.”
His expression was instantly serious. “What made you sick? Because I know it wasn’t the three cocktails.”
“It’s stupid,” I whispered. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Maia, I don’t know how to make you believe that you never have to be embarrassed with me.”
Fine. He was right. Baird had never given me cause to not trust him with my feelings.
“It was the song.”
“The ‘Kids’ song?”
I nodded, watching my every step carefully and wishing like hell I could take my stupid heels off and walk the rest of the way home barefoot. Not in this city, though.
“What about it?”
That immediate emotion I’d felt after I was sick threatened to burst forth again.
I swallowed hard around the lump in my throat and choked out, “It was my mum’s favorite song.
When I was about twelve or so, she would play it constantly.
We’d dance in the kitchen to it, shouting the lyrics at the top of our voices.
And she would … it was like she was—” My voice broke, and I blinked rapidly to stop the tears, but it only caused them to flow over.
Baird tugged me closer as I swiped at them.
“It … It was like she was singing the lyrics at me. Like she was telling me what she wanted to say but couldn’t.
That’s what it was like with her for so long.
One minute she’d make me believe there was a mum in there who did love me but just didn’t know how to show it.
Then she’d rip it all away and I’d feel hopeless again. Worthless.”
He stopped us, pulling me back into his arms as I cried quietly, soaking his shirt all over again.
“It’s s-so s-st-stupid. I’m th-thirty y-years o-old. It … it sh-shouldn’t still hu-hurt like this.”
“It’s not stupid, My. You could be eighty and this would still hurt. A mum is supposed to protect their child. To put their kid first. If she was here in front of me, I might fucking kill her.”
I gripped tighter to his shirt, turning my cheek so I could speak, trying to calm my tears. “That’s the second time I’ve heard that s-song and re-reacted like that. S-so weird.”
“It’s triggering panic attacks.”
Gently, I pushed away from him. “I-I don’t think it’s a panic attack.”
“Babe.” Baird reached down to swipe his thumb over my cheek and I saw black on it. Mascara. Damn it, I probably looked like a raccoon. “I know a panic attack when I see one.”
I frowned. “But why just that song? I’ve never had a panic attack about anything else.”
“Because …” He bent his head toward mine, expression gentle. “The song represents all the complicated feelings you have about your mum. It’s the thing that hurts most—that she could have loved you the way you needed her to, but she chose not to.”
My mouth trembled as fresh tears sprang free. He was so wise. I nodded.
Baird tried to catch the tears with his thumbs, his expression almost agonized. Like my pain was his pain. “You deserve so much better, Maia.”
“Bear …”
He wiped my cheeks again and pressed a firm kiss to my forehead. “Let’s get you home, beautiful. I’ll make you a cup of tea and some toast. That’ll help.”
I snuggled into his side, confused by my tumultuous emotions but grateful to him. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
His response was gravelly with emotion. “You never have to thank me for that. It’s my privilege, Maia.”