18. Maddox
Maddox
T he first thing I do when I get up is check my messages, and the way my heart drops is disappointing but not unexpected.
It’s a Saturday morning, and I supposedly have a tutoring session with Killian in an hour.
He usually texts me around this time to let me know he’s on his way, but today, there’s nothing.
Not even a complaint about how I snuck out last night.
Well. All right, then. I put my phone away and get on with my morning, grumbling as I drag myself to the bathroom and get ready for the day.
Now that I think my morning’s clear—on account of Killian being a probable no-show—I should probably do my laundry.
I stare at my hamper, where Killian’s blue and gray jersey is, and the sight of it makes me wince.
God, do I need to return that to him? What’s the protocol here?
It’s been a while since I’ve hooked up with anyone, and I’m not sure how to act.
But then again, I might as well keep the jersey as a souvenir. A trophy, perhaps. I’m sure he has tons of them, and even if the sight of it makes my stomach twist, maybe in some weeks’ time, I’ll be able to look at it without regretting my intense lack of impulse control.
Laundry it is. I grab my hamper and head to the basement .
At least the laundry room’s empty. I dump my clothes in a machine and pass the time watching videos on my phone. And, no, I’m not constantly hoping that Killian will text me.
Okay, maybe just a bit.
Dear god. What’s happening to me? I scrub a hand over my face and text my mom, who texts me back photos of flowers that Dad got her yesterday.
Why did he do that? Because he felt like it, he told her.
This is the exact behavior I was telling Killian about last night.
Can’t really blame me for being a hopeless romantic when this is what I grew up with. Thanks, family.
It’s five minutes past ten when I finally head back to my room, hamper in my arms, and Killian’s jersey neatly folded on the very top.
And the moment I step onto my floor, I freeze in my tracks.
Killian’s leaning against my door, and he’s got a bouquet in his hands.
Why does he have flowers?
My chest loosens, and I stand here like I’ve forgotten how to function.
Killian looks good. He always does, but he seems…
more dressed up today? His coat’s open, showing a nice button-down shirt underneath it, and I think he’s wearing his hair a little differently today.
It looks as if he spent a lot of time styling it with product.
And I’m in a ratty shirt and sweats.
I approach him quietly, and when I’m a few steps away from him, I clear my throat. “Killian.”
He immediately turns to me, his eyes widening and a smile spreading across his face.
“Hey!” he says. “You’re late. I thought you were zoned in again and ignoring me, but I texted Chey and she said she heard you leave.”
Chey? I glance at the room next to mine, but there’s nothing but silence coming from it. Blinking back at Killian, I gesture at him to move aside so I can open my door, and he immediately pushes himself off it.
“Late for what?” I unlock my door and enter my room. He follows me without being invited, though I expected him to .
“Tutoring? Ten a.m. on Saturdays, right?”
Killian shuts the door behind us, and I raise my eyebrows at him, utterly confused. “Why do you have flowers?”
“I brought them for you, obviously.” He takes the hamper away from me with one hand and places it down, then shoves the flowers in my face. “Blue. Your favorite color.”
I stare. “Oh.”
He gently shakes the bouquet until I take it. It’s blue wildflowers wrapped in creamy white paper, and my heart actually does a strange, swooshing motion when it finally clicks.
And people call me a genius? I didn’t even see this coming.
“I, uh,” I stammer. “You usually text when we’re going to see each other, so I thought you wouldn’t make it today.”
“Oh! Sorry. Okay, so, story time. I didn’t text because I was caught up getting these…
there’s this guy at my dorm whose family owns a flower shop and he sells these from his room sometimes.
I wanted to buy flowers from him today, but he was giving me a hard time.
Apparently, I’m full of it if I thought he’d be able to get me something on such short notice.
Anyway, I didn’t stop harassing him until he agreed to make his sister deliver these to the dorm.
Hah. Though, I owe him tickets to the next game. ”
It occurs to me I should probably have a response for that, but my brain’s drawing up a blank.
Killian smiles sheepishly and glances at the bouquet in my arms. “Too much?”
“Ah, no.” My voice comes out croaky, and I clear my throat. “Just… unexpected.”
He cocks his head and gives me a look as if he’s trying to figure something out. Which, if he figures me out, I hope he spells it out for me—because even I don’t know why I’m acting this shell-shocked.
Most likely because I thought he’d be done with me after last night, and instead, he shows up with flowers in my favorite color. Just like Dad does for Mom.
I’ve dated before, I’ve had flings, but it’s the first time someone’s actually done this for me .
“Sorry.” Killian’s eyebrows furrow and the corner of his mouth curves downwards. “You don’t like it. I misunderstood. After last night—”
“No, wait,” I blurt out, forcing my brain to catch up and start working again. “I’m sorry. I was just surprised, but I do like it. Uh. I love it.” The way my cheeks flare makes me grit my teeth. “Thank you.”
His eyes light up and he gives me another wide smile, putting his hands on his hips and puffing his chest out. “Yay!”
I tip my chin down, my grip tightening around the bouquet. The paper wrapping crinkles under my hold. Now what? Do we go to tutoring? His hands are empty, though.
“You didn’t bring your book,” I say.
“No, I thought we could go out on a date instead.”
“A date?”
“Yeah. It’s this thing where two people who are into each other go out and do fun stuff.” He gives me a playful smirk. “Thought you were supposed to be the smart one?”
I glower at him. A big part of me debates turning him down just to be difficult, but who am I kidding? Like last night, this man could ask me for anything and I’d give it in a heartbeat. He’s my weakness, apparently.
Since I don’t have a vase to put the flowers in, I gently put it down on my bed. “I’ll find something to put these in later. Don’t worry.”
“Or we can just buy something while we’re out.” He shrugs a shoulder. “C’mon, get dressed.”
His eagerness isn’t anything new, but it’s still throwing me off.
The way he watches me move around makes me uneasy, and I give him a half-hearted glare before grabbing a change of clothes and ducking into my bathroom.
Sighing, I splash cold water on my face and shake my arms to get rid of the tension, though it doesn’t work.
It’s no secret that I like being in control. Last night, when Killian didn’t touch me because I asked him not to, it made my heart race to know I had that much power over him .
Right now, though? I’ve got no power. Nada. None. It should feel pathetic, but instead I clasp a hand over my mouth and muffle a laugh.
Fuck it. Might as well have a good day with Killian, even if it is the last thing I expected today.
***
Killian talks the entire time he drives us to wherever we’re going. He says that today, we’re going to be doing what he loves, and that I can choose our activity for our next date. That he’s so confident there’s going to be a next date makes me force down a smile.
Despite all the words coming out of his mouth, he’s adamant about not telling me where our date’s going to be, so I smirk and lean back in my seat.
Maybe I glance at the hand he has on the wheel, too, gazing at the thick veins that run down his arm.
I’m reminded of how the muscles of his arms stretched last night when he gripped the headboard with both hands.
How his knuckles were pale from how he clutched the wood—from the effort to not touch me, like I told him.
The memory of it sends heat down my spine, and I shift in my seat.
My stare flickers to his broad shoulders and strong-looking jaw. No use pretending I’m not obsessed with how he looks. We’re way past that now.
His injury from last night doesn’t seem to be bothering him, though he might be masking the pain. I’m not sure.
Killian talks about how his teammates are doing.
He talks about a guy named Walters, who is love-struck over a sorority girl.
Walters, apparently, always gets shut down.
He tells me about how Vega, a name I recognize from statistics, is the one who always ends up taking Walters out to cheer him up.
Killian talks about how he found Rhys all quiet after practice the other day, and how he glowered at him when he made a joke about whether it was about a girl, just like why Walters was moody.
According to him, Rhys is very dodgy about his love life.
“Speaking of love lives… Caleb and Nick? They’re going to the practice rink as a date today,” Killian tells me. “That’s their idea of a date. Drills. Maddox, they’re training.”
“Hmm, yeah. Caleb can be obsessive with hockey.” I’m glad he found someone like Nick, though, who’s on the same wavelength as him when it comes to the sport.
I’m about to trash talk hockey just to mess with Killian when he turns a corner.
It becomes clear where we’re heading, making me wide-eyed.
We’re pulling into a parking lot that’s close to Buffalo Waterfront, and what he wants to do instantly clicks.
“Please tell me we’re not going to the outdoor rink,” I say.
He titters. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
“I’m not good at ice skating.”
“That’s okay, because I am. This is the last day of the year the rink’s open, and I don’t want to miss it.”