Chapter 20
CHAPTER
TWENTY
MAISIE
It’s been just over two weeks since I’ve seen Wilder. Since that night in his office when I told him exactly how I felt and didn’t hold back.
And I still feel like a bad bitch.
Okay, well… also kind of a sad bitch, but definitely still a bad bitch too.
I meant everything I said. It wasn’t just the heat of the moment or empty words. I’m done with his constant hot and cold, with the fact that he can so easily put a mask on and pretend that I’m the only one affected. Done with him. Seriously.
Except why does even saying that make me feel so… empty? Why does it suck so badly if I truly meant what I said.
“Mais,” Lennon says, waving her hand in front of my face, causing me to snap out of thoughts that I shouldn’t even be having right now. Since, you know, I’m done with him. “Babe.”
Her voice is softer now, and I glance up, refusing to let silly tears well in my eyes, so I bite the inside of my cheek as I paste on a smile that I don’t feel.
She lowers herself onto the bed beside me and slides her arm around my shoulder, pulling me tightly against her side.
“I know you’re sad, and I’m not saying that you shouldn’t feel sad. I support you a hundred percent if you want to stay home and cry with some ice cream and our favorite shitty TV.”
I laugh.
“But also it’s your twenty-first birthday! You only turn twenty-one once, and you shouldn’t spend it stuck inside, crying over an asshole who doesn’t appreciate what he could have.”
“I know. I’m not crying.”
She pulls back and looks at me, her perfect brow arched high. “Okay, true, but I know you, Maisie. We’ve been best friends for literally our entire lives, and I can feel when you’re sad.”
She’s right. About all of it. But it doesn’t change the fact that I am, in fact, sad on the night of my twenty-first birthday.
Wilder doesn’t deserve my sadness. I know that. He doesn’t deserve anything from me; he’s proved that.
It’s the same thing I’ve told myself for the last couple of weeks, pretending that every single time I’ve seen him, there hasn’t been a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach or a slight ache inside my chest.
It was over before it even started with us. We had a kiss, yes, that was out of this world, but still. We weren’t dating or together in any capacity, but it still really freaking sucks.
Maybe it’s better this way.
“Look,” Lennon muses, sliding off the bed and standing in front of me, her hand on her hip.
“I say that we do the exact opposite. Let’s go out for your birthday.
A club, or a party, or something stereotypically college.
And we celebrate you turning twenty-one, have some drinks, forget about anything outside of my best girl’s birthday. ”
“Me? Drinking? Partying?” I mutter.
She nods. “Yup. It’s your birthday, Mais. Your twenty-first birthday. It’s like… the most iconic birthday you’ll have, and you deserve to be celebrated by your friends and to have fun. In a safe, controlled environment.”
And by that, she means…
“Saint?”
A slight flush moves to her cheeks, and I giggle.
“You know he’s basically my bodyguard, which means… he’s yours too. He’ll make sure we can have fun and we’re safe. He doesn’t drink, so he will be fully alert, watching over us.”
“Like he would let you out of his sight for a second. The man goes to the bathroom with you.”
Her flush deepens, and she scrunches her nose. “Yeah, okay, he does do that. But this is one of those times where it’ll be appreciated.”
I sigh.
Flopping onto the mattress, I stare up at the ceiling, contemplating the entirety of my existence.
Lennon crawls onto the bed beside me, shoulder to shoulder, her hand finding mine, our fingers curling together.
My best friend. My person. The girl I’d follow into the dark.
The one I have no clue how I would survive life without.
I turn to look at her, and she grins. “Boys suck, Mais, but you’re hot and young and single and have the best tits out of anyone I’ve ever met.”
I laugh. “The highest compliment, babe, truly.”
“Seriously, I refuse to let you stay home tonight and be sad. You’re not going to look back on today twenty years from now and remember how you wasted your twenty-first birthday over someone who isn’t even going to matter. Who you won’t even remember…”
I’m not quite sure that’s the truth, but I don’t correct her. I think that no matter what happens, I’m never going to forget Wilder. Forget what I gave him or what we shared that night.
Even if he didn’t deserve it.
Even if he forgets it.
I won’t.
Lennon sits up, twisting to face me. “I’m pretty sure there’s a Taylor Swift song about this.”
I giggle. “Pretty sure there’s a Taylor Swift song about anything to do with a stupid man, babe.”
“True.” She laughs. “So let’s get up, put on the hottest dress you own, and have the best night of your life.”
Before I can answer, she’s hopping off the bed and moving toward my closet, so sure of the answer that I haven’t even given yet.
“First of all, who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?” I call after her. “I’m pretty sure we’ve body swapped at this point.”
While I haven’t always been this… version of myself, I have been the more outspoken, go-with-whatever-happens-on-the-fly one.
Lennon has always been type A, planning everything meticulously, down to the smallest of details.
Everything always has to be perfect. It’s been ingrained in her entire being since she was born, thanks to her asshole parents.
But that all changed when she met Saint. He brought out a side of my best friend I’d never seen. I know that she was on her own self-discovery journey, but he has to get credit where it’s due.
He supported her through it all. He pushed her to stand up for herself, to be whoever she wanted to be without worrying about anyone else.
I’ll always respect him for that.
Lennon’s always been the fierce, bravehearted girl that she is now… she just fell in love and discovered that girl buried beneath the expectations of her parents.
I see so much of myself in her journey. Sure, our expectations are different, and the situations they come from, but at the core, we’re both just two girls finding the person we want to be.
And not letting anyone else decide for us.
Rifling through my closet, she calls back over her shoulder, “Still in here, just making sure my bestie has the best birthday. One she’ll never forget.”
“Holy shiiiiiit,” Lennon murmurs when I walk into the living room and do a small twirl. “Mais… you look like a freaking goddess.”
I smirk, raking my teeth over my lips as I lift a shoulder.
Self-confidence has never been my issue. I know that I’m attractive—at least that men find me attractive—but I don’t dress for men. I dress to look hot for myself, and this outfit?
I feel so hot.
I feel like a goddess.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt hotter than I do right now, and it’s exactly what I needed for tonight.
To stop feeling like a sad girl. The instant serotonin boost from a great outfit will do that to you.
“That dress was literally made for you. Seriously, every freaking guy in the room is going to be drooling.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “Len, respectfully, the very last thing I want right now is a man.”
“I mean… isn’t there a saying…” She taps her chin thoughtfully, a wide grin pulling at her lips as she arches an auburn brow. “Oh yeah, get over someone by getting under someone else.”
“Lennon Rousseau!”
Holy hell, she’s out of control, yet I’m laughing alongside her giggles, and she shrugs.
“Just saaaaaying.” Her phone pings, and that dreamy look crosses her face, the one she gets anytime her man is around. Dopey is the best way to describe it. Lovesick.
My girl has it so bad. She is down. Bad.
“The guys are here! They’re coming up.”
Setting her phone back onto the counter, she reaches for her lip gloss and applies her favorite shade of pale pink.
“Len, your makeup is so pretty tonight. You’re glowing.”
Her cheeks pink.
“Does it have anything to do with the good dick you got before coming over here?” I smirk.
She looks scandalized, just the way I was only moments ago with what she said. Apparently, she’s only modest now when it comes to her and Saint having sex every five seconds.
“Maiiiiiisssssssie,” she groans, but then she grins. “Yes. Absolutely.”
A handful of seconds later, there’s a heavy knock at the front door, and Lennon skips over, opening it for her boyfriend… and Bennett.
He’s holding a bouquet of pink flowers and a dainty gold tiara in his hands, his signature grin slipping from his face when his gaze lands on me.
“Oh goddamn.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.
I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back my giggle because he looks a little… frozen?
Saint slaps him on the back, curving his palm around his shoulder. “Sorry, my friend’s an idiot. He thinks you’re pretty but doesn’t know how to talk to girls. Happy birthday, Maisie.”
“Thanks.”
He nods, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at his lips, surprising me. Mr. Stoic does smile? Brushing past Bennett, he scoops Lennon up, making her squeal and then collapse with laughter as he carries her over his shoulder through the house.
“Gonna borrow your room real quick.”
My nose scrunches. “Please do not have sex in my bed, or I’ll throw up.”
“No promises.”
“Saint!” Lennon cries. “If you mess up my hair or makeup, I’m going to kill you. Stop being a brute!”
I don’t hear his response as they walk into my bedroom, only the sound of my bedroom door slamming shut.
Bennett is still staring at me when I turn back to him, his eyes slightly wide.
“Wow, the infamous Bennett Legros is speechless?” I say, crossing my arms over my chest with a smirk.
Suddenly, he blinks and thrusts the flowers toward me, clearing his throat. “Shit, Maisie… Happy birthday. You look so fucking beautiful I might actually die.”
The giggle flies past my lips before I can even attempt to hold it back.
He’s so ridiculous that it’s endearing. Dramatic and so over-the-top, but he’s also kind of adorable. I wish I were interested in him beyond just friends, but unfortunately, my stupid vagina is apparently only interested in people who don’t want us.
I would feel bad if I hadn’t told him so many times that I’m not interested, and that I won’t be, no matter how much he flirts with me.
“Thank you. They’re beautiful. You picked these out by yourself?”
He shrugs, smirking. “Might have had a little help. Not really a flower kind of guy, but you know, I can be for you, Mais.”
There he is. The relentless flirt who has absolutely zero intention of wanting to actually settle down with anyone.
Guys like Bennett like the chase. They don’t actually want to catch anyone.
“How could I forget?” I toss over my shoulder as I leave him filling the doorway and walk over to the cabinet and pull out a vase, depositing the flowers inside. “You know, one of these days, someone’s actually going to fall for your act, and then what? Can you imagine… monogamy?”
For a second, a flit of panic crosses his face, and a shudder has his broad shoulders shaking, but he shrugs as if he’s unbothered. “I could be a one-person kind of guy. Easy.”
“Mhmmm.”
“I told you, if you gave me the time of day, I’d scoop you up so fucking fast, girl.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I bet.”
Bennett takes the vase out of my hands and shakes his head. “Let me. The birthday girl doesn’t need to do anything but drink a fuck ton of fruity drinks and wear that cute little tiara.”
Oh. I’d forgotten he’d brought that.
My gaze falls to where it’s sitting on the kitchen counter, and I pick it up.
I’ll look absolutely ridiculous in a tiara that says Birthday Girl, but I guess… you only turn twenty-one once, right?
“Here, let me do the honors,” Bennett murmurs as he takes the tiara out of my hands and gently places it on top of my head, then steps back to take a look.
When he whistles, low and slow, I shake my head and give him an eye roll.
“I look stupid.”
“Fuck no, you look amazing. That dress…” He lifts a fist to his mouth, pretending to bite down. “The tiara just brings it all together.” Turning, he calls out down the hallway, “Let’s go, lovebirds. Time to celebrate the birthday girl!”
I find myself smiling so much that my cheeks hurt, dressed in a silly tiara that probably does actually look ridiculous, wearing a dress that makes up for it, and suddenly… I realize I’m no longer even thinking about Wilder Hawthorne and his stupid, handsome face.