14. Maisie #2
He shakes his head, a quiet laugh slipping out that sends a warm pulse through me. “Not at all. I think they’re cute,” he says, his eyes on me. “Like you.”
My ears burn. “Very funny.”
He grins wider. “Come on, don’t tell me this guy doesn’t have a name.”
He jiggles the penguin a little in his hand, and I reach out to snatch it back, but he takes a quick step back, laughing.
“What is it?” he teases. “Mr. Waddlington? Sir Flapsalot? I need to know.”
I roll my eyes, fighting a smile as I grab a pillow off my bed and throw it at him. “You’re an idiot.”
He breathes out a low laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I think we established that already, hence why I asked you to tutor me.”
The smile slips off my face, and I feel guilt curl in my stomach. “I didn’t?—”
“It’s fine,” he says with a shrug and a lopsided smile that doesn’t look quite right. “I know I’m not the smartest guy around.”
“Austin.” He glances up at me, I hate the saddened look on his face. “Just because you learn a little differently doesn’t make you dumb.” He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You know I didn’t mean you’re an idiot , right?”
He holds eye contact, swallows once more then nods, breaking out into a grin. “I know. You meant that you love me.”
I roll my eyes, and he chuckles as he flops down onto the edge of my bed, my stuffed penguin still tucked under one arm. He glances around my room again.
“Waddles,” I say before I can stop myself.
He snaps his eyes to mine, blinking. “Huh?”
“His name,” I clarify, my cheeks warming as I nod toward the penguin in his hands. “It’s Waddles.”
Austin looks down at the penguin, then back up at me, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Of course it is.”
He sets Waddles gently on the bed, then leans back on his palms with a low breath. “I like your room,” he says after a beat. “Feels like you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
He shrugs, his eyes finding mine again. “It’s warm. Adorable. Kind of makes me feel like I can actually breathe.”
Something shifts in my chest. Does he really see me that way? As a place he can breathe? I don’t know what to say to that, so I just cross to the other side of the bed and sit, tugging absently at the hem of my sleep shorts.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him.
“The guys are at the away game,” he explains. “I’m suspended, remember?”
My brows knit together. “You didn’t want to go with them?”
He shakes his head immediately. “Sitting in the stands would be torture,” he admits, dragging a hand through his hair. “Being at home alone was fucking agony, though.” His eyes meet mine and he smiles, tilting his head slightly. “I needed company.”
I laugh quietly. “And no other girls were free to keep you company?” I ask him. “You’re scraping the bottom of the barrel, huh?”
His eyes narrow slightly, his lips tugged into a frown. “You were my first choice.”
My breath catches.
“There might’ve been other people who I could call over,” he adds with a shrug. “I don’t know. I didn’t check. I wanted to hang out with you.”
The room feels warmer. Too warm. The thin pajama shorts feel like I’m wearing a parka right now, because every inch of my skin flushes with each second his eyes are on me.
I shift back on the bed, lifting my shoulder in a shrug. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, but I might not be as fun as they would’ve been,” I add with a small chuckle.
He shakes his head, his lips lifting in a smile. “You’re more fun than any girl I’ve ever met.”
God, how can he say these things? How can he be here, look at me like that, and expect me not to feel the fluttering in my stomach?
His gaze flicks to the laptop. “Wait, is this—” He grins, turning his body to face the screen where He’s Just Not That Into You is playing. “I love this movie.”
My eyebrows lift, surprised. “You do?”
He meets my eyes and shrugs. “My mom and sister are obsessed with this movie,” he says a little sheepishly. “They used to have romcom nights. I always ended up watching with them.”
My heart melts a little. “That’s actually really cute.”
“Don’t spread it around, Freckles. You’ll ruin my street cred,” he teases, bumping my shoulder. “Scooch over.”
I shift over without thinking. He climbs in beside me, his long legs stretching out, arm brushing mine as we settle. He’s warm and smells so good.
He looks over at me with that half-smile. “Bet you’re not used to having a hockey player crash your movie night, huh?”
I bite my lip, twisting the blanket in my hands. “I’m not really used to having anyone over.”
He blinks, like he didn’t expect that. “What do you mean?”
I look down at my hands, twisting a loose thread on the blanket. “I don’t… really have any friends, I guess.”
His brow lifts, surprised, but he stays quiet.
I let out a laugh that feels hollow and my chest tightens. “Maybe there’s something wrong with me, I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I mean there must be, if no one ever wants to be around me.”
“Maisie.” I look up and catch the frown on his face, his hazel eyes narrowing on mine.
“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you.
I could punch the people who made you feel like you weren’t enough.
If I didn’t want to be around you, I wouldn’t have come here.
When I was alone in my room all I could think about is you. ”
My throat tightens, and I swallow hard.
“The only person I wanted to see tonight, was you.”
I don’t say anything. I don’t even know what I’d say to that. He doesn’t say anything either. Just watches me, his expression softening, like he’s waiting for me to catch up.
I rip my gaze away from him and pull the blanket tighter around my legs, shifting the laptop between us, trying not to think about how close he is—or what he just said.
His arm brushes mine when he shifts slightly, close enough that I can smell the faint hint of whatever cologne he wears—clean, a little woodsy. It’s distracting.
He’s right there, just a couple of inches away, and it feels weird and kind of nice all at once. I want to look at him, but I don’t want to mess up whatever this is between us right now.
“I’ve watched this so many times,” I say, my eyes still on the screen, “and I still don’t get it.”
Austin shifts slightly beside me. “Get what?”
“How you’re supposed to know if a guy actually likes you,” I murmur, my fingers tugging at a loose thread in the blanket. “Not just… stringing you along.”
He pauses for a moment. “This about your guy?”
I finally glance at him and catch his hazel eyes slightly narrowed. “My guy?”
He nods, but his usual smile’s long gone. “Yeah.” I notice a muscle in his jaw tick. God, even his jaw is perfectly chiseled. “The guy you’re into.”
I drop my gaze. I shouldn’t be thinking about Six right now—not with Austin right here, on my bed, with his body angled toward mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Maybe,” I mutter.
He doesn’t smile. Instead, his jaw tightens ever so slightly, and then turns his attention back to the screen. “I don’t know who your guy is or if he’s leading you on or not, but… this movie does get one thing right.”
“What’s that?” I ask, glancing at the movie playing.
He nods toward the screen. “If a guy likes you, he’ll find excuses to be near you. He’ll touch you when he doesn’t need to. Look at you more than he should.”
My eyes flick to his, and he’s already watching me.
My brain races through everything that’s happened between us.
That night on the rink, when he skated circles around me, trying to pull off a move.
The day he showed me how to hold a hockey stick, his hands steadying mine. How close he leaned in. How he knocked on my dorm room door tonight. How he’s sitting here now, his arm brushing against mine.
Is this… something?
Or is he just like this with everyone? Am I reading into it more than I should?
I swallow, looking away.
He shifts beside me, running a hand through his hair. “My mom used to watch this movie a lot. Especially when a guy broke up with her,” he continues. “She’d put it on and grab a glass of wine and a bowl of ice cream.”
“Was it just you guys growing up?” I ask.
He nods. “My mom, me, and my sister. Our dad left when I was eight. Walked out and never really came back,” he says with a shrug. “It’s just been the three of us since then.”
I nod slowly, letting the silence hang for a moment before I speak. “After my dad died, it was just me, my mom, my sister, and my brother. We kinda had to be everything for each other.”
He looks at me, letting me go on.
“I didn’t really have a friend group like you growing up. Or a best friend. Or… anyone, really,” I admit with a laugh. “My sister was, and still is, my only friend, pretty much,” I admit, pressing my lips into a thin line.
Austin turns to me, his brow furrowed. “That’s not true,” he says.
“What isn’t?”
“That she’s your only friend,” he clarifies. “You have me now.”
I blink. I guess I do.
He’s still watching me as he lifts one hand to brush the back of his hair, his hoodie riding up just a bit, revealing the waistband of his sweats and a sliver of tan skin beneath.
I quickly avert my eyes, trying to focus on the screen. I shouldn’t be thinking of him like this, or looking at him, but god, he’s pretty to look at.
“So… the midterms are in two weeks,” I say, trying to change the subject before I do something dumb like stare at him again. “Are you ready?”
Austin huffs out a short laugh. “I mean… with you tutoring me, I hope so. It’s making more sense than it did before.”
I smile a little. “That’s because you’re not stupid, despite what you say, or think. You just have your own way of doing things, and that’s fine. You’re getting it, Austin. I can see it.”
He shakes his head, exhaling as he sits up straight. “I just… I need to pass. It’s not optional.”
My brows pull together. “I know. But you’re?—”
“No. You don’t get it,” he cuts me off. His jaw tightens, and his throat moves like he’s swallowing a lump. “I need to pass. I’m on a scholarship, and if I don’t—” he cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Hockey’s my whole life. It’s all I’ve got.”
His knee bounces. He swipes his palm over his face, like he’s trying to push the thoughts away but they’re crawling under his skin anyway.
He swallows again, hard, then his breathing quickens, shallow. “If I lose it…” His voice cracks.
He stops talking, jerking onto his feet so fast I flinch.
“Austin?”
He won’t look at me. His steps are quick and uneven as he paces across my dorm, rubbing his chest.
“I think I—I need to go to the nurse or something. I can’t—my chest?—”
His voice is strained, shaky. Panicking , I realize.
I swing my legs over the bed, already crossing the room to him. “Hey. Austin.”
He backs up, hand to his chest, his breath shallow.
“Austin.” I grab his hands. They’re clammy. Shaking. I step closer until we’re chest to chest, until I’m right in front of him and he can’t look away. “Hey. Look at me.”
He blinks, his eyes glossy and unfocused, like he’s slipping away somewhere just beyond reach.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “You’re okay. Just breathe with me.”
I press one hand gently to his chest, right over his heart, and lift the other to cradle his jaw, nudging his gaze back to mine.
“In,” I say, drawing in a slow breath. “Out.”
His breath catches, then stumbles out, then comes again, slower this time.
“That’s it,” I murmur. “Just like that. In. Out.”
I feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath my palm, the steady thump of his heartbeat, the tight tension in his shoulders starting to loosen, bit by bit, with each exhale.
“Focus on me,” I tell him. “Focus on your breathing.”
His breathing eases a little. His hands find my waist, gripping like he needs the anchor. I let him, even as my own heart kicks into overdrive.
“You’re okay,” I tell him, tracing the rough scrape of stubble under my fingers. “I promise.”
His hand tightens around my waist, his eyes locked on mine as his breath steadies.
“Thank you,” he exhales.
I smile, dropping my hands from his face and chest. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“No, seriously.” He pulls his hand away from my waist and runs it through his hair, his fingers tangling in the messy strands. “Thank you.”
“That’s what friends are for, right?” I say, a small smile tugging at my lips. Never in a million years did I think I’d call Austin my friend—yet here we are.
He lets out a tired laugh, shaking his head. “I’m so glad I met you, Maisie. You have no idea.”
I shrug, flashing him a smile. “Anyone would’ve helped you, Austin.”
He holds my gaze for what feels like forever, swallows, then shakes his head. “That’s not the reason why.”
My heart stutters, and I want to say something, but I’m frozen. Waiting.
For what? I don’t know. But I can’t seem to move.
After a few minutes, we both settle back down on my bed, and this time, his arm swings around my shoulder. I stiffen for a second, before letting myself lean into him.
The movie keeps playing, but I barely register what’s happening onscreen. Every few minutes, I sneak a glance at him. Just to see if he’s still here. Just to make sure this isn’t in my head.
His knee nudges mine, and he doesn’t move away.
I don’t either.