10. Maisie
MAISIE
A ustin has been staring at the same anatomy diagram for fifteen minutes.
Not labeling it. Not even pretending to try. Just sitting there with his pencil hovering midair, brow furrowed like he’s waiting for the drawing to whisper the answers straight into his brain.
Honestly? It’s impressive. The sheer commitment to doing absolutely nothing while looking like he might be working.
I cap my pen and lean back in my chair. “You know staring at it harder won’t make the labels appear, right?”
He lets out a sigh and drops his pencil, flopping back in his chair. “There’s got to be an easier way to learn this crap.”
“There was ,” I say, flipping to the labeled diagram in my notes. “It’s called going over it again until it sticks.”
He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It’s not easy,” I say, leaning in a little. “It’s repetition. And focus.”
He shifts in his chair, glancing at the page. “My brain doesn’t want to focus. It wants to set this paper on fire.”
I smile. “Unfortunately, setting it on fire won’t help you pass.”
“Are we sure?” he asks, arching a brow. “Feels like a solid option.”
“Hate to break it to you, but you’re stuck with me.”
His lips twitch into a smirk. “Well when you put it like that, it doesn’t sound too bad.”
God, he makes it impossible not to get distracted when he says things like that. I swear, tutoring Austin Rhodes is less about actually teaching him and more about surviving his constant flirting.
He blows out a breath, swiveling in his chair to face me. “What if I circle back to the bribery thing?”
I look up, catching that cocky grin spreading across his face. “You already tried bribing me,” I say, flipping to the next page. “With candy, and that mirror selfie from the gym.”
His smile deepens. “Didn’t hear any complaints about the abs.”
I shoot him a flat look. “That’s because I was too busy praying for temporary blindness.”
Which is a lie. Kind of.
I mean, the flexing was ridiculous and totally uncalled for.
But also… the guy has perfectly sculpted abs. Which I’m only aware of because he insists on parading them around at every possible opportunity.
Austin clutches his chest. “Freckles, you wound me.”
He calls me that all the time now. Freckles. I don’t even have that many—just a faint dusting across my nose, the kind you can only see when the sun hits just right. But he latched onto them weeks ago and hasn’t let go since.
I reach into my bag and grab my Chapstick, twisting the cap off with one hand and smoothing it across my lips, more out of habit than anything else.
“Cherry?”
My eyes widen when I look up at him. “What?”
He tilts his chin toward the cherry Chapstick on the table. “Your Chapstick.”
“Oh.” My shoulders drop. “Yeah.”
There’s a pause, then his chair creaks as he leans forward with a smirk on his lips. “I knew you’d taste sweet.”
That makes me freeze for half a second. I glance up slowly, narrowing my eyes. I jab my pen toward the worksheet. “Three questions left. Focus.”
He groans and slumps lower in his chair. “Three? That’s, like… two too many.”
“Poor baby,” I mutter, placing my Chapstick back into my bag. “Do you want a gold star?”
Austin doesn’t answer right away. When I glance up, he’s not even looking at the worksheet. He’s squinting at my bag, which is half-slouched against the leg of the table.
“I want to know what the frog’s about.”
I blink. “What?”
He points. “The little guy. With the crown.”
I follow his gaze. It takes me a second to realize he means the enamel pin clipped to the front pocket—a tiny green frog with googly eyes and a lopsided gold crown. I’ve had it forever. Didn’t think anyone noticed it, let alone him .
“I’ve seen it every time we study,” he adds. “I need answers.”
I glance at the frog. He stares back, vaguely unbothered.
“It’s just a pin.”
Austin raises an eyebrow. “That’s your whole explanation?”
“I like frogs.”
“That’s it?”
“Yup.”
He tilts his head, unconvinced. “You’ve got the same guy on your laptop too, don’t you?”
I glance at the sticker on the back of my laptop case. Sure enough, same frog. Just slightly bigger.
“It’s not a thing,” I say, flipping the page. “I just like frogs.”
Austin doesn’t buy it. “You definitely have a reason.”
“Maybe I just think he looks funny.”
“Come on.” He leans forward, forearms braced on the table.
I let out a breath, pressing my pen to the corner of the worksheet. “Why do you care?”
“Because,” he says, with a shrug, “I want to know more about you.”
I hesitate. Not because I don’t know what to say, more because I didn’t think anyone would ask.
“It’s dumb.”
He smiles, his lips slowly lifting into a smile that makes my belly warm. “Try me.”
I follow his gaze to the frog pin. “My dad gave me this when I was a kid.”
He raises an eyebrow. “A frog?”
I shrug, a little smile tugging at my lips. “Yeah. He said frogs are survivors. No matter how many times they get knocked down, they keep hopping back up.”
His expression softens. “Sounds like he’s a pretty smart guy.”
“Yeah. He was.” I glance down at the pin, my fingers brushing over it. “He’s been gone for a while now, but I still like to keep it with me, as a reminder.”
Austin doesn’t say anything, but he’s still watching me.
I clear my throat and shake my head. “Told you it was dumb.”
He shakes his head slowly, a quiet smile spreading across his lips that makes his whole face soften. “No. It’s pretty cool.” His eyes meet mine. “I like learning things about you.”
The words catch me off guard. I want to laugh it off, but the honest way he says it makes me pause.
I tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear, my fingers trembling just a little. “Well… don’t get used to it.”
He chuckles. “Too late for that. I’m a quick learner when it comes to you.”
He leans back in his chair and stretches, long arms hooking behind his head. His hoodie rides up just enough to reveal smooth, tanned skin—a flat stomach riddled with abs that dips low, where a thin line of dark hair trails teasingly beneath the waistband of his pants.
I definitely do not stare.
Maybe just for half a second.
Okay, fine, maybe a second and a half. Max .
I rip my eyes away and look back down at the worksheet, but I can’t ignore the way my chest is thumping. I hate how easily he gets under my skin. Or maybe I don’t hate it as much as I think I’m supposed to.
I clear my throat and peek up at him. “I told you about the frog. Now you owe me the last three questions.”
“Maisie,” Austin groans, dragging out the word, rubbing the back of his neck. “Come on, we’ve been at this for over an hour.”
I flick a glance at my watch. “Forty-five minutes.”
He shoots me a look that’s half annoyed, half pleading. “I’m starving.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You had a protein bar like fifteen minutes ago.”
“That was a snack,” he says, arching a brow at me. “I need real food. You know, something with sauce. That fills me up. I’m a growing boy. I need sustenance.”
I roll my eyes but can’t hide the corner of my mouth twitching. “You’re dramatic when it comes to food.”
He leans forward, that familiar cocky smirk tugging at his lips. “Come on,” he says, packing up his notebook. “You’re coming with me.”
I hesitate, swallowing a little. Saying no feels easier. I’ve got reading to finish, a quiz coming up, and honestly, eating around people isn’t really my thing. Not that I’m about to admit that out loud.
“I’m good,” I say quickly, hoping that’s the end of it.
Austin sits up straighter, brow furrowed. “No, you’re not. You haven’t eaten either. And I’m excellent company, I promise. Five stars on Yelp.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to stay firm, but he’s not letting up.
“Fine,” I sigh, snapping my notebook shut. “But if you show me one more shirtless gym selfie, I’m walking straight into traffic.”
He raises his hands, shooting me a grin. “Shirt stays firmly on,” he says, then that grin slides into a teasing smirk. “Unless you want it off.”
I try not to smile, but the corners of my mouth twitch anyway.
We start packing up. Austin’s already halfway done, but I take my time, organizing my pens and notebooks before sliding out of my chair, pulling my top over the curve of my stomach without even thinking. Habit.
Halfway to the door, two girls step in, blocking the way. One plants herself right in front of Austin, the other closes in from the side. I step back, not wanting to get caught in the middle.
“Austin,” the first girl says, voice light and sweet. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
He shifts, like a switch flips. His back straightens, that easy grin settling in.
“Yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, knowing full well how that flexes his bicep. “Just studying.”
The second girl laughs. “Smart and cute. Dangerous combo.”
They keep chatting, Austin still smiling. I catch myself glancing at the girls again. A sharp ache twists low in my stomach and I don’t bother pushing it away.
Because I know the truth.
I’ll never be like them. I’m not the girl who holds a guy’s attention like that. I’m not the one you search for in a crowd. I’m no one’s first choice.
For a second—just a flicker—I think about Six. About all those late-night messages that made me believe maybe someone could see me like that. That maybe, when we finally meet, he’ll look at me like every rom-com hero looks at the girl.
But I know that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Austin’s still grinning as he turns back to me. “Ready?” he asks.
I nod, forcing a smile. “Sure.”
Austin orders like he hasn’t eaten in three days: burger, fries, milkshake?—
“And a side of onion rings,” he adds, flashing a wink at the waitress, who turns her attention to me next.
“I’m good,” I say quickly.
He frowns, just a little. “You’re not eating?”
“Not hungry,” I lie, swallowing the knot tightening in my throat.
He doesn’t push, just glances down at the menu.