18. Maisie
MAISIE
T he moment I step onto the porch, I know something’s off.
A few people are out here smoking, someone laughing too loud over the thud of music bleeding through the open door. The bass rattles the floorboards under my feet, even all the way out here.
There’s no way Austin threw a rager and forgot to mention it. Right?
I pull out my phone and check it again, just to make sure I didn’t misread.
Austin:
still good for 8 tonight?
That was hours ago. And he’s the one who said studying at his place would be better. Quieter. Less distracting.
Right.
My tote bag feels heavy on my shoulder, stuffed with notes, flashcards, and a granola bar—because I knew he’d get hungry. He always does.
But this? This doesn’t look like a guy ready to study anatomy.
I shift my weight from one foot to the other, hovering on the porch. There’s yelling from inside, and the smell of weed drifting through the open window. Someone’s singing off-key, horribly.
This is so not my scene.
It never has been.
Still, I came here for a reason.
I came for him.
So I hitch my bag higher on my shoulder, suck in a breath, and push open the front door.
It’s warm inside. Uncomfortably so.
The second I step in, my sneakers stick to something suspiciously tacky on the hardwood. I wince and try to keep moving, hugging my tote close, eyes scanning for any sign of him.
I try to weave through without brushing against too many people, but it’s impossible. My shoulder gets bumped. A guy I’ve never seen before gives me a slow, curious once-over. I duck my head immediately, mumbling sorry under my breath, heat crawling up my neck.
I clutch the strap of my bag tighter, pushing past a couple making out so aggressively against the wall I have to physically sidestep them.
This was a mistake.
I should just go, text him later, say I swung by but he was clearly busy. I’m halfway to turning around when I see him.
He’s in the middle of the living room, his shirt untucked, hair a mess, and a stupidly bright smile as he laughs at something one of his teammates says.
Then his eyes find me, and his smile widens. “There she is,” he slurs a little, “the only person I wanted to find tonight.”
He walks toward me with his arms stretched out wide, and I barely have time to brace before he’s wrapping one of them around my shoulders, pulling me into his side “You came!”
“I…” My voice gets swallowed by the music. “Yeah, I?—”
I try not to stiffen. But I’m not used to being touched like this. Especially not guys like Austin. Not in front of this many people.
“We were supposed to study,” I say, tilting my face up toward him, trying to keep my voice level.
His eyes widen slightly, then squint as he tilts his head down at me. “Shit. Were we?”
I give him a flat look. “Austin.”
“Maisie,” he says, mimicking my tone and giving me a dopey grin. “You’re so pretty when you’re mad.”
My stomach flips, and I hate that it does. He’s leaning on me more than standing next to me, and I should tell him to get off, but for some reason, I don’t. His arm is still heavy around me, but oddly comforting.
“I’m sorry,” he says, the words slightly slurred. “I completely spaced.” He grins, his dimples deep, and his eyes crinkled. “But you’re here now! Wanna dance?”
I blink up at him, caught off guard. “What?”
“I said”—he does a weird half-sway to the music— “dance with me.”
I take a step back, folding my arms across my chest as my nose scrunches. “I’m not dancing.”
“Oh, come on. Just one song. You owe me.”
“I owe you anatomy flashcards and a serious talk about scheduling.”
He laughs, causing a few people to glance over. His teammates are scattered across the room, all of them with drinks in hand. I catch Ryan elbow Nathan and nod in our direction. Nathan follows his gaze, and he shakes his head when he sees me.
“Sorry about this,” Nathan says, weaving through the crowd until he’s in front of us. “I told him he was forgetting something.”
Austin waves him off. “I remembered. She’s here.” He turns back to me, beaming. “See? Maisie’s here.”
Nathan gives me a helpless smile. “Coach is out of town, so there’s no practice tomorrow. So obviously,” he gestures around us, “this turned into a thing.” He lowers his voice slightly. “He’s been drinking since six.”
Of course he has.
I sigh and ease out from under his arm. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed before you do something stupid.”
He frowns. “But I was having fun.”
I arch a brow. “You can have fun horizontally.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Maisie. You can’t just say stuff like that to me.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “I meant sleeping. Alone. In your bed.”
There’s a burst of snickering from somewhere behind us. Of course his teammates heard that.
Austin grins. “Fine,” he says with an exaggerated sigh. “Only because you’re hot when you’re bossy.”
Before I can say anything else, his hand slides around my waist, his fingers curling into the curve of my hip like it’s second nature. He falls into step behind me, his warm breath grazing the back of my neck.
My heart kicks against my ribs as we head toward the stairs.
“Mmm. You smell good,” he murmurs, voice low and a little too close to my ear.
A shiver runs straight down my spine.
I force myself to breathe evenly, like this is fine. Normal. Like I don’t feel every inch of him behind me.
His hands stay at my hips the whole way up, steady and warm, like he’s guiding me. Or maybe holding on.
At the top of the landing, I glance at the row of closed doors. “Which one’s yours?”
He nods toward the first on the left. “That one.”
His hands fall away just before he steps around me, pushing the door open.
His room’s surprisingly clean. A little messy, sure—there’s a sweatshirt slung over the chair, a water bottle tipped on its side by the bed. But the bed’s made, and it actually looks soft and inviting.
I drop my bag by the desk and turn just in time to see him collapse face-first into the mattress.
A smile involuntarily tugs at my lips at the sight of him completely wiped out. But when he starts unbuttoning his jeans, my cheeks flare hot, and I whip my head away.
“Sorry,” he murmurs a few seconds later. I sneak a glance back, and his previous smirk is gone, replaced with a faint crease between his brows. “I forgot about tonight.”
“It’s okay.”
He runs a hand down his face, letting out a deep exhale.
“I didn’t mean to. I just…” His voice drops.
“Everything’s a mess. I’m not playing, failing classes, coach is pissed.
Feels like I’m letting everyone down.” He rolls onto his side, his eyes fixed on me.
“I just needed to blow off some steam, y’know? ”
I nod and sink down onto the edge of the bed. The mattress dips beneath me. “I get it.”
He doesn’t say anything else. But the way he’s looking at me makes my skin prickle.
I want to look away, but I can’t stop myself from stealing glances, tracing the shadows under his eyes, the curve of his jaw. He’s just… so pretty.
I swallow the lump rising in my throat and start to stand. “I should go?—”
“No.” His hand clamps over my wrist and his eyes lock on mine. “Stay. Please.” My chest twists tight. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
Every part of me knows this is reckless. I should say no and walk out the door.
But my body betrays me, and I nod.
He scoots back, patting the spot beside him. After a moment, I slide in, curling onto my side to face him. I don’t know what to do with my hands, so they settle beneath my head as I keep my eyes on him.
His eyes search mine in the dim light, and he shifts closer, his fingers tracing a slow line along my cheek. My breath catches.
“My mom thinks you’re pretty,” he says softly.
I blink, caught off guard. “She does?”
He hums, his eyes heavy-lidded. “Mmhmm. So do I.”
I blink again, my heart skipping at his words. I swallow hard. “You’re drunk,” I whisper.
“You’re gorgeous.”
I don’t know how to respond. No one’s ever said that to me—not like this, not while looking straight at me like they actually mean it.
So I stay quiet, lying there, my heart hammering as I fight the urge to look at his mouth.
His hand moves up my back and I feel his fingers pressing lightly through my shirt as he rubs my back slowly. A shiver runs down my spine.
He pulls back slightly. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head. “Just… feels nice.”
He smiles softly. “Yeah?”
I nod, feeling a little breathless, lifting my eyes to meet his. “Will you do it again?”
His grin widens as he leans in, brushing his nose against mine. “You’re so cute.”
His hand slides lower, his fingers spreading wider across the small of my back, pulling me a little closer.
I never thought I’d be here, in Austin’s bed, with his hands on me and his face a few inches away. My breath catches, my skin prickles. I want to memorize this feeling, tuck it away somewhere deep.
He doesn’t say anything else, just keeps rubbing up and down along my spine, watching me for a while.
He tilts his head on the pillow. “I’m gonna be your first customer.”
My eyes flick up. “What?”
“You said you wanted to open a bookstore café.” He pauses. “I’m gonna be the first in line when you do. I’m gonna spend my life savings there, even though I hate reading.”
A soft laugh escapes before I can stop it. “I can’t believe you remembered that.”
He shrugs, lazy and half-asleep. “I might look dumb, but I pay attention.”
My throat tightens. “You’re not dumb.”
His smile softens, a little smaller this time, like he doesn’t quite believe it.
“I’m serious, Austin. You’re not. You just learn differently. And you’ve been trying.”
He doesn’t reply. Just keeps looking at me. His hand drops from my back and lifts slowly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I hold my breath as his fingers trail down, feather-light against my jaw.
Everything inside me tightens when his gaze drops to my mouth.
No.
No, he wouldn’t. Not me.
He’s drunk. He’s flirty. That’s all this is.