21. Maisie
MAISIE
I t’s barely four in the afternoon, and I’m already in pajamas.
Curled up in bed, tucked between a mess of pillows and my stuffed toys, with a movie I’ve seen a hundred times playing on my laptop, and a half-eaten sleeve of Oreos beside me.
And I’m alone. As usual.
Austin passed his test.
Not that he told me himself. I found out the same way everyone else did—through a grainy mirror selfie from the rink locker room, with his helmet tucked under one arm, and that cocky grin plastered across his face.
The caption said, “Back on the ice,” followed by a fist-bump emoji.
He passed.
And I mean, that’s… great.
It’s what he wanted.
What we wanted.
I should feel happy. I am happy. He tried this time. Really tried. He stayed awake through our study sessions, actually listened when I explained the same concept five times in a row. He worked for it. And it paid off.
He got what he needed. And now, I guess he doesn’t need me anymore.
I shift under the blanket, hugging my stuffed pink bunny tighter to my chest.
I haven’t been able to spiral in peace either, not with Six still radio silent.
I reach for my phone again, even though I already know what I’ll see.
No messages from Austin.
None from Six.
Just one from Bailey, asking for advice on a dress for her winter formal, which I quickly type out a response to.
Me:
Love it. You’ll look amazing.
I hit send and scroll back through Six’s thread anyway, and reread the last few messages. Was it something I said? Something I did? Did he get tired of waiting to meet me because I’m such a coward?
I drop the phone onto my chest and stare up at the ceiling, blinking against the burn in my eyes.
I got my hopes up.
I let myself believe that maybe Austin liked me. That maybe there was something there. That the kiss meant something.
And maybe I let myself believe that Six cared, too. That whoever he is behind that screen, he liked talking to me. Looked forward to it.
My throat tightens, and I press my face into the crook of my arm.
I should know better by now. I do know better.
But it still hurts knowing that maybe I’m just destined to be the girl no one chooses.
I’m about to close my laptop and do some homework when my phone buzzes.
Austin:
hey.
One word. Three letters.
And somehow, it still knocks the air right out of my chest.
I sit up too quickly, my blanket sliding off my legs as I grab the phone, rereading the message.
It’s the first I’ve heard from him in days.
Not since that afternoon in the library.
Not since he passed his test.
Not since that kiss.
Me:
Hey.
Austin:
got a spare slot 2 tutor me?
I squint at the screen before typing out a reply.
Me:
You passed. Why do you need tutoring?
Austin:
yeah, well, I want to make sure I keep passing.
plus, I kinda miss my friend.
Friend. Of course.
It’s fine. I never expected anything more. I didn’t ask for more.
I just thought… I don’t know. I thought that look in his eyes, or the way he smiled when he saw me that day, meant something, like maybe he saw me the way I was hoping he would.
Me:
I think I can open up a slot.
Austin:
right now? come over.
I stare at the message.
Everything in me tugs in two directions at once.
Because I know better. I’m starting to get stupid, ridiculous feelings for Austin, and I know I’ll probably leave his house tonight feeling worse than I did before.
But I also remember how it felt to kiss him. The way my heart stuttered, how everything else disappeared for a second.
And how quiet this room’s been without him in it. How much I’ve missed him.
I’m tired of pretending I don’t, of protecting myself from something that’s already taken hold. So, I grab a hoodie off the back of my chair, pull my scrunchie out, fluff my hair, and I leave before I can talk myself out of it.
It’s cold outside. My hoodie doesn’t do much against the wind slicing across campus, but I don’t slow down.
By the time I’m standing in front of Austin’s house, my fingers are frozen—but everything else feels warm. My body’s been buzzing since the second I left my dorm. Nerves, probably.
The front door opens before I even knock.
Austin stands there in a hoodie and joggers, barefoot, his hair a little messy like he’s run his hand through it too many times. His eyes land on mine—tired, a little surprised. Like he didn’t think I’d actually show up.
“Hey,” he says, stepping back to let me in.
Austin closes the door behind me as soon as I step in.
His roommates are all in the living room and they all glance up when I walk in.
“Hey. Maisie, right?” Logan says, tilting his head. “You did a hell of a job with Rhodes. We had no faith in him.”
Austin shoots him a look. “Thanks, man. Really appreciate the support.”
Logan just laughs. “Hey, I’m just being honest.”
Nathan tips his chin toward me. “Nice to see you again,” he says, offering me a smile.
I smile back. “You too.”
Austin nudges me gently with his elbow and dips his head toward the hallway. “Come on.”
I follow him down it, my eyes dragging over the space. The muffled sounds of the TV and the guys’ voices fade as we head up the stairs. My sneakers creak on the wood floor, and I can’t help glancing around. Last time I was here, the place was packed. Loud. Sticky. Everything smelled like beer.
Now it’s clean and quiet and kind of cozy.
Austin pushes open the door to his room and I follow him inside.
It’s dim inside, just the glow of a lamp in the corner. His bed’s made, but a little rumpled like he sat on it earlier and didn’t bother fixing it. His guitar leans against the wall, catching my eye.
I nod toward it. “You play?”
He shrugs, setting down his phone. “Here and there. Mostly when I’m avoiding studying.”
I blink, stepping closer. “I didn’t know that about you.”
He gives me this half-smile, that crooked grin that makes my chest squeeze in a way I don’t like admitting out loud. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Maisie.”
I raise a brow. “That’s surprising considering how much you talk about yourself.”
He lets out a breathy chuckle, his shoulders shaking a little. “You always know how to humble me, Freckles.”
My heart does that annoying thing where it skips. I cross my arms loosely, trying to look unaffected, like he didn’t just call me that nickname I haven’t heard in days.
I nod toward the guitar again. “Will you… play something?”
His eyebrows lift, and the smirk fades just a little.
“You don’t have to,” I add quickly, already regretting it. “Forget I asked.”
“No,” he cuts me off. He swallows harshly, his eyes locked on mine. “I want to.”
Austin crosses the room and settles on the edge of his bed, pulling the guitar into his lap. His fingers skim over the strings, tuning them, then he strums a few soft chords.
I sit on the opposite side of the bed, unable to look away from the way his brows pull together in concentration, the way his jaw flexes as he focuses.
The notes grow more familiar by the second, until I freeze.
Wait.
Is this?—
Set Fire to the Rain.
I blink.
I’d know that melody anywhere. My chest tightens, something warm blooming behind my ribs.
When the last note fades, he looks up at me, his fingers still resting on the neck of the guitar. He rubs the back of his neck, and for the first time since I’ve known him, he looks kind of shy.
I swallow, my chest tightening with each second his eyes are on mine. “You’re really good,” I say, clearing my throat.
That flicker of nerves crosses his face again, but it’s gone just as fast. “Yeah?”
I nod. “Why that song?” I ask him.
He gives a half-shrug. “Saw your skating video. You used that song, right?”
I blink.
“Couldn’t stop thinking about it,” he adds, adjusting one of the tuning pegs without looking at me. “The way you moved. The way it sounded with you.”
My throat tightens.
“I figured if I could hear it again—if I could play it—I’d get it out of my head.” He glances up then, his eyes meeting mine across the bed. “Didn’t work.”
The quiet stretches between us. The guitar’s still in his lap, but neither of us moves. I’m still watching him. He’s watching me. And I wonder if he’s thinking about it—the kiss. The way his hands framed my face, the way he looked at me right before. And the regret riddled on his face right after.
Because I can’t stop thinking about it.
He sets the guitar down beside him and then he glances at me, his brows tugging together. “Maisie. About what happened in the library…”
My stomach flips.
He runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” He exhales sharply. “I was so fucked up over this other girl and?—”
Other girl . He likes someone else. Of course he does.
“It’s just—” He swallows hard. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
My stomach twists into knots, heat flooding my cheeks. I want to look away, to disappear, but I can’t.
What did I expect? That Austin Rhodes would fall for me? That I was anything more than his tutor or the girl he needed to pass a class? That I was something special?
No. I’m the rule. Not the exception.
I quickly wonder what she looks like. Do I know her?
Is she pretty? She’s probably drop-dead gorgeous for someone like Austin to be into her.
Did he picture her when he kissed me? Did he think about her touch, her smile, while his lips were on mine?
The thought burns like acid in my chest, tightening into a painful lump in my throat.
“It’s okay,” I say, because I don’t think I can hear him say the rest.
But he shakes his head. “No, it’s not okay. I just… I never wanted to hurt you or lead you on.”
“You didn’t,” I cut in. “It’s fine. You were happy and I just happened to be there. It didn’t mean anything.”
He pauses, watching me. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I get it, Austin,” I tell him. “A guy like you doesn’t kiss a girl like me unless he’s confused. I know that.”
He flinches, his brows knitting together. “Maisie?—”
“It’s fine. Really.”