Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
MAEVE
The snow is coming down so hard that it’s just a mass sea of white outside, making it impossible for us to try leaving Indianapolis today.
I hadn’t even gotten as much as a breath out before Tatum decided it wasn’t safe to drive and went down to the front desk to book us another night’s stay.
The perfectionist in me wants to freak out at the delay in our timing, but I don’t say anything because I know he’s right.
While he’s gone, I raid the alcohol stash from the mini fridge in the corner of our room, which consists of a bunch of mini bottles.
I know we’ll have to pay extra for these when we check out, but that’s tomorrow Maeve’s problem.
If I’m going to be trapped in this room for another night, I might as well have something to mask the nerves that threaten to tighten my stomach in a vice grip.
Pinot grigio. Tito’s. 1800.
There’s even a few beer cans.
I hear Tate come back in the room as I finish rummaging through the fridge, filling my arms before turning and closing the door with my foot.
“Wanna play never have I ever?” I ask, gesturing toward the tiny bottles of liquor in my arms as I raise a brow toward him. “It’d be a good way to get to know each other.”
His laugh is weak as he pushes his glasses up his nose. “You might be disappointed.”
“Why?”
Tate’s hand circles around to scratch the back of his neck as he glances down at the floor. “I’m, uh…boring?”
His words almost make me snort, because of all the ways to describe him, boring is not one I would use.
He’s probably the least boring person I’ve ever met.
If anything, I have the most fun trying to crack through his little, shy shell that he hides behind, like a game of how much I can get him to open up to me.
And when he does speak, it’s either a random fact or the stuttering he does when he’s trying to talk and look at me at the same time.
“Nope,” I say, bouncing on the balls of my feet. “I won’t accept that. We’re playing.”
Centering myself in the middle of the room, I plop down on the carpet and carefully let the bottles fall from my arms into my lap so I can place them in front of me.
I pat the floor as I glance up at him expectantly, and it’s almost cute the way he swallows thickly as he watches me for a moment, like his big brain can’t comprehend that I’m asking him to play a stupid drinking game with me.
My lips form a thin line to keep from smiling at his reluctance, before he finally takes a seat in the spot across from me.
“Okay, if you have done said thing, you drink.”
He nods, his lips pursing as he chews at them with uncertainty.
Biting down on my bottom lip, I try not to let it show just how excited I am to play this.
Of course I want to know all the juicy details about the quiet, six-foot-something hottie, but he doesn’t need to know that.
Pulling out my phone, I quickly search a list of questions, because it would be even more blatantly obvious if I were to just ask them outright.
“Never have I ever…” I pause for dramatic effect, “gone skinny dipping.”
Twisting open the pinot grigio, I take a large sip before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, unable to contain my snicker as I peek back up at Tatum, who hasn’t moved.
“Never?” I ask incredulously.
“Never,” he repeats my words, his pink cheeks darkening.
“Never have I ever…gotten a speeding ticket.”
Neither of us moves.
I snort. “I don’t even have a car.”
The laugh that filters through his full lips is louder than I’ve ever heard from him before, and he immediately notices as he tries to cover it by clearing his throat. I pretend to pay no mind as I scroll through the list for the next question.
“Ooo. Never have I ever…been in love,” I whisper in faux suspense.
And again, I drink, but he doesn’t.
I can’t help but gawk at him, jaw practically on the floor as I scoot closer to face him fully, my knee brushing against his. “You’ve never been in love?”
Tate shakes his head slowly, and now I feel bad, because he’s clearly trying to look anywhere else but at me.
“Not even a little bit?”
“No,” he whispers.
“Jeez, Tate,” I joke, not wanting him to feel awkward. “Consider yourself lucky. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
His smile is soft, his cheeks dimpling even, but I can tell from the etch between his brows that he’s starting to feel uneasy about the topic, so I move on.
Eyeing him pointedly, I say, “Never have I ever…had an alcoholic drink.”
Lifting the tiny wine bottle to my mouth, I drink the rest of the pinot grigio as I peek over my hand to see him cracking open the tequila. I half expect his face to construe a bit when he takes a sip, but it’s as smooth as ever.
“Never have I ever…had a friend with benefits.”
I’m not even looking at him as I open the mini vodka bottle, because of course I expect him to be drinking.
The man has never been in love, so what else was there?
But when my head falls back down from taking my sip, I see him blinking nervously at me through his glasses, and the amount in the tequila bottle hasn’t diminished even a fraction.
“Tate, if you’ve never been in love, then you’ve had to have had…” I trail off, the realization sinking in and sucking all the air from my lungs.
That’s so presumptuous of me. What the hell am I saying?
I’ve fucked up. I’ve fucked up monumentally.
Oh my God.
He’s never had sex?
The last thing I ever want to do is make him feel uncomfortable, and judging by the red of his cheeks and the way he’s squirming like he doesn’t want to be here right now, I’ve failed. I feel like the biggest ass on the planet. He’s never going to look at me again after this.
I need to give him some space. I don’t want to put too much on him at once. I’m saying all the wrong things.
Patting my thighs, I push up from the floor as I wrap my arms around myself, glancing down at him as I scramble for words. “Hey, you know, some snacks would be really good with this. I think I’m gonna go down and grab some from the vending machines. Want anything?”
He shakes his head, not fully looking at me. “No, I’m okay.”
“You sure?”
Oh, fucking kill me now. Of course he’s sure.
His head nods once.
I’m scrambling out of the room as fast as my legs can take me because…
Oh my God. That must’ve been the worst thing that could’ve ever happened to him.
He’s already a shy guy, and I just outed his virginity still being intact during a fucking drinking game.
Oh, God, and then I just left, like it was the most repulsive information I’ve ever received.
I want to give him space, but as I’m barreling down the hallway, I know this has to look like anything but that.
Good job, Mae.
My brain can’t compute how it’s possible for someone as good-looking as he is to have never had sex before. He’s shy, yes, but he reaches like unfathomable levels of attractive.
I’m immediately shaking that thought from my head as I ran my clammy hands down my face, hurrying into the elevator as it glides open.
At twenty-two, maybe it’s a personal choice.
That’s a completely reasonable explanation, one I’m not owed at all, but I could definitely see that being an option.
It’s not even so much shocking as it is…
Well, honestly, I’m jealous of him. This weird presumptuous judgement is stimming from jealousy, I know it is.
He’s so lucky because he’s not tainted by the chaos that love and sex bring.
He’s pure and innocent. Blind to it all.
Not that I even know how he feels about it, given I just up and ran away without talking to him…but still.
I’d give anything to feel like that.