2. Maisie
MAISIE
I ’m in love with someone who doesn’t exist.
Alright, he does exist. I just don’t know who he is.
And I guess I’m not in love with him. But I like him… a lot.
Which is kind of ridiculous, considering I don’t even know what he looks like. I don’t know his name, or if he even goes to the same school as me.
I guess I don’t need to know in this little space we’ve created. There are no expectations, no awkward small talk, no pretending to be someone I’m not. Just endless conversations with someone who somehow always knows exactly what to say.
Maybe it’s because he’s one of the very, very few people I talk to. Or maybe it’s because we spend every free second texting.
Which is why I almost trip on my way to my seat.
Too busy staring at my phone, waiting for his reply, I miss the step and twist my ankle like an idiot as I stumble forward.
A few girls giggle, whispering to each other, and I let out a sigh, gripping my phone as I sink into my usual spot—by the exit, at the top, where no one ever goes and no one ever bothers me.
Placing my bag on the ground, I pull out my laptop, and set it up before grabbing my phone and scrolling back to the text Six sent me.
Six:
Burgers or pizza.
Beware. I will judge you on your answer.
I let out a quiet laugh and type back.
Me:
Burgers. Any day. And if you disagree, I think we can no longer be friends.
I check the time. Still ten minutes until class starts.
Out of habit, I send a quick text to Bailey.
Me:
College sucks. I don’t recommend it.
She probably won’t see it. She’s probably busy with her friends. But I still hit send, slip my phone into my pocket, and pull up my notes, determined to focus.
But then, of course, Austin Rhodes walks in.
Laughing, carefree with his friends, completely unaware of me—which is exactly how I want it.
But my stomach still twists at the memory of last week. My head still aches, and I swear there’s a tiny bump where his stupid water bottle hit me. Not that I went to the doctor. Absolutely not.
They would’ve asked how it happened. I would’ve had to explain.
And I really don’t want to see him again.
Which is why, when he walks into class, I try my absolute hardest to shrink into my seat and disappear. Not an easy task, considering I take up more space than the average girl.
Dipping my head only makes it worse, and sure enough, Austin’s eyes land on me and widen in recognition.
“Maisie.”
My name on his lips sends an involuntary shiver down my spine, and my stomach does this ridiculous little flutter thing that I immediately shut down.
I will not be one of those girls who blush and stare dreamily at Austin Rhodes. I refuse.
Rolling my eyes, I sit up straighter and glue my attention to my laptop, even though class hasn’t even started yet. If I look busy, maybe he’ll take the hint and?—
Nope. A body drops into the seat beside me, the scent of a rich masculine cologne invading my space.
I chance a glance at him.
Of course, he’s grinning at me.
“Nice to see you again,” he says, leaning back in his chair.
“I can’t say the same.”
He chuckles, completely unbothered by my attempt to shut him down. “I didn’t know you were in this class.”
“Of course you didn’t.” I finally turn to face him, lifting a brow. Why would he? Austin Rhodes and I don’t exactly run in the same circles. I’ve walked past him hundreds of times—practice, classes—and he’s never noticed me before.
In his world, he’s the golden boy of the hockey team, effortlessly cool, always surrounded by his usual type—girls who look like they walked off a magazine cover.
In mine, I sit alone at the top of the lecture hall, keeping to myself, headphones in, eyes down.
I don’t exist in his world. And yet, here he is.
Austin presses his lips together and his gaze sharpens just a little. “Alright. You’re still pissed about last week. Got it.” He pulls something from his pocket, and my breath hitches.
My iPod.
The one I’ve been tearing my place apart in search of over the past few days—sitting there, casually, in his hand.
My mouth goes dry. I had seriously considered just accepting defeat and buying a new one. Turns out he’s been walking around with it this whole time.
I sit up straighter, my pulse quickening as I stare at the iPod in his hands. “You… where did you?—?”
“You left it at the rink,” he says with a shrug. “Thought you might want it back.” His fingers toy with the device. “I dig your playlists, by the way. I hope you don’t mind, but I added a few songs of my own.”
I blink, completely taken off guard. “I do mind,” I say, irritation creeping into my voice. “I don’t want you touching my stuff.”
Austin just laughs, leaning back in his seat. “Well… too late for that, I’m afraid. You know what they say, right? Finders keepers, losers?—”
“I won’t be weeping,” I snap, glaring at him. “What do you want an old iPod for anyway?”
He shrugs again, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Dunno. Gives me a reason to talk to you, I guess.”
I scoff. “Seriously? You’ve resorted to flirting your way to an A?”
His cocky grin widens. “I mean, I’d be happy with a B, but I’ll do what it takes to get it.”
I roll my eyes, trying to mask the small flush creeping up my neck. I don’t even want to play into whatever game he’s trying to start. “Well, I’m not interested.”
And neither is he. This flirting thing—whatever it is—has nothing to do with him actually liking me. It’s all just part of his charm, the kind that works with everyone else. But I’ve been around the block enough to know that guys like Austin don’t look twice at girls like me.
He’s just using me. And I’m not going to let him.
“Ah, come on,” he nudges my arm with his elbow, his cocky smile not budging. “Just a few tutoring sessions. I’m sure I’ll get it down by then.”
I take a deep breath, closing my laptop before turning fully toward him.
“Listen, pretty boy. I know you’re probably not used to being told ‘no’, so listen to me clearly.
I am not interested in you or whatever this—” I wave my hand between us “—this flirting thing is. I’m not one of your puck bunnies, and I won’t be drooling at the thought of spending time with you.
So, I’m going to tell you this one last time. I do not want to tutor you. Goodbye.”
When I’m done, I let out a harsh breath, noting his brows are slightly raised and his lips are parted in surprise. I don’t really raise my voice, and maybe I was a little too harsh, but I wanted to make sure he understood that whatever he’s trying to pull is not going to work on me.
But that shocked expression disappears almost instantly when he breaks into a smirk, revealing his perfect teeth. “You think I’m pretty?” he teases, his voice dripping with amusement.
I roll my eyes.
“And for the record,” he says as he arches a brow, “I don’t call them puck bunnies.” He leans forward slightly. “I find it disrespectful and degrading. They’re just women who are attracted to hockey players.” He shrugs, flashing me a wink. “As are you, apparently.”
I shoot him a glare. “Did you not hear me say I wasn’t interested?”
He gives a slight nod, still smiling. “Loud and clear, blue eyes.” He pauses, a mischievous gleam in his gaze. “I also heard you call me pretty, so that kind of cancels it out, doesn’t it?”
I feel my skin heat, and I glare at him, biting back the urge to punch him in the arm. “Unbelievable,” I mutter, shaking my head. “I’m not going to tutor you.”
He points at me with a grin that only grows wider. “Yet?” he asks, his brows lifting in hope.
“Ever,” I correct firmly, crushing that hope.
He shrugs. “Eh, I’m good at waiting.”
“You’ll be waiting a lifetime,” I mutter under my breath, opening my laptop again, trying to focus on the lesson plan in front of me.
But I can still feel him next to me, his presence uncomfortably close. I let out an exasperated sigh before stealing a glance at him from the corner of my eye. “Are you going to stay here the whole lesson?”
He nods, his lips curling into a smile. “I like the view from here.” He stretches his arm across the back of my seat. “Comfy,” he adds, with a wink.
Dear god… Help me.