22. Maisie
MAISIE
I change my outfit four times before I admit I’m spiraling.
There’s a mountain of discarded clothes in the corner of my bed—sweaters, tank tops, dresses I haven’t worn since high school—piled up in a heap that’s growing by the minute.
Too casual.
Too formal.
Too much boob.
Not enough boob.
I pull on a cropped sweater, hoping the sleeves will distract from everything else, but the moment I catch my reflection, I yank it off. It clings to my stomach in a way that makes my skin crawl.
I try a sundress next. Soft cotton, pale yellow, sort of cute. But in the mirror I look like I’m trying to sneak into a middle school dance. I tug at the hem, frown, then sigh and peel it off again.
Jeans. Black top. Safe. Fine. Sort of sexy? I can’t tell anymore. I stare at my reflection and try to see what he’ll see.
Ugh.
God. What am I doing? It’s not even a real date. He’s just doing this to clear his guilt, because he kissed me when he shouldn’t have. Because he’s interested in someone else, and I just happened to be there.
Because I told him—awkwardly, painfully—that he was my first kiss. And he looked at me like I’d told him I’d never seen a fork before.
And now he’s picking me up in less than an hour, and I’m still standing in my underwear, my hair in a half-dry bun, mascara on only one eye, staring at my closet in panic, hating every single stitch of clothing that lands on my body.
I could just cancel.
Or fake a stomach flu.
Or crawl under the bed and die quietly with what little dignity I have left.
My stomach churns as I dig my thumbs into the waistband of my sweatpants and sigh.
Then I grab my phone, and text the only two girls I vaguely know.
Me:
Hey. Weird question. If you had to pick something to wear on a date with a guy, what would you wear?
The second I hit send, I regret it. My finger hovers over the unsend button, my brain screaming at me to abort.
But before I can react, Isabella replies.
Isabella:
What dorm are you in? We’re on our way.
My stomach drops.
Me:
No, it’s fine I didn’t mean for you to come over, I was just asking for some advice.
I let out a breath when they don’t reply, and quickly tug my sweatshirt on.
There’s a knock on my dorm door less than five minutes later. I head to the door, and when I open it, Aurora marches into my dorm without a second glance. Isabella follows behind her, carrying a small tote bag.
I blink at them. “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”
I’m not used to girls showing up.
I didn’t know how much I wanted it.
“You asked. We delivered.” Aurora flops down onto my bed, eyeing the crime scene of clothes beside her. “Let’s see the damage.”
“Damage?” I echo.
She points at the heap of discarded outfits on my bed. “That.”
Isabella walks over to my open closet and hums under her breath. “Okay, so, do you want to be casual, or cute, or a mixture of both?”
I lift my hair off my neck, suddenly too hot. “I don’t know? He didn’t say where we’re going.”
“Vague men,” Aurora mutters, shaking her head. “Hate them.”
“Who’s the guy?” Isabella asks without looking back, already pulling out a dress I forgot I owned.
My hands tug at the sleeves of my sweatshirt. “It’s… Austin.”
They both freeze.
Aurora straightens. “I’m sorry. Austin?”
Isabella turns, holding the hanger mid-air. “ Austin Austin?”
I nod.
“As in Rhodes?” Aurora asks. “Center for the hockey team, tall, loud, annoying, dimples?”
“That’s the one,” I mutter.
Isabella blinks. “I didn’t know he went on dates.”
“He doesn’t.” I pause. “It’s not… It’s not a date. Not really.”
They wait.
I suck in a breath. “He kissed me.”
Their eyes widen in shock, mimicking what I feel.
“It was a misunderstanding,” I’m quick to add.
Isabella’s eyebrows lift. “A misunderstanding?” she repeats.
I nod, sitting down on my bed, pulling Waddles into my lap. “He didn’t mean to kiss me,” I explain. “He was just happy about passing his test, and…” I trail off, blowing out a breath, because I don’t even know how to explain it myself. “He just feels bad, and wants to make it up to me.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Aurora leans forward, brows pulled together. “Wait. He kissed you, and now he wants to take you out to apologize for the kiss?”
“Yep.”
I don’t mention that it was my first kiss. The look on Austin’s face afterward was enough. I don’t need them feeling sorry for me, too.
“Has he kissed you before that?” Aurora asks. “Or, like… flirted with you?”
I shift on the bed, picking at a loose thread on my sleeve.
I think about the way he smiled at me that night we watched the movie in my dorm, how his arm slid around mine like it was no big deal.
The way he leaned in at the rink, bracing his arms on either side of me, how his gaze always seemed to dip to my lips.
But maybe none of that meant anything. Maybe I imagined all of it.
He likes someone else.
I shake my head. “No. This was… just an accident.”
Isabella bites back a smile. “And now he’s picking you up for a date to make up for it.”
“Yep.”
They exchange a glance I don’t know what to make of, and then Aurora stands up and heads straight for the closet. “Alright,” she says. “We’re picking out a killer outfit.”
I stare at her. “You don’t have to?—”
“It’s not a big deal,” she says, already sliding hangers across the rod. “I love fashion.”
“Thank you,” I say, exhaling. “For helping me.”
“You asked the group chat,” she says with a shrug. “That’s basically a blood oath.”
I let out a laugh as Isabella pulls a pink cardigan from the rack, something soft and oversized, with little pearl buttons and a delicate cable-knit pattern along the sleeves. She holds it up by the shoulders and gives it a small shake.
“What about this one?”
I look at it for a second. It’s cute. Too cute, maybe. The kind of thing I’d wear to class. But would it be right for this? Whatever this is?
My fingers curl around the edge of my blanket. “I don’t know,” I say with a shake of my head. “I’ve never been on a date.”
Isabella turns halfway, her eyes softening. A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “You’ll be fine. I was a mess on my first date with Ryan, too.”
My brows lift. “Really?”
Aurora rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “God, she was a disaster. I had to physically restrain her from freaking the hell out.”
Isabella shoots her a look over her shoulder. “And then you threatened him.”
Aurora just shrugs, unapologetic. “I stand by that.”
I let out a laugh. I never thought I’d have this. Girls who show up and dig through my closet and tease each other in front of me like I’m one of them, like I always have been.
For the longest time, there was only Six.
Just this little bubble of connection, hidden in my phone. Late-night texts and jokes that felt like secrets. The only person I ever really let in.
My fingers twist in the edge of the blanket as something presses at my throat. And before I can think better of it, I blurt it out.
“There’s this… other guy.”
The room goes still. Their heads turn toward me in sync, both sets of eyes blinking like they’re not sure they heard right.
There’s something about Six that feels different. Safe in a way I can’t explain. Like I’ve kept him in this small, quiet part of my life where nothing has to be messy or real. Just texts. Just me, and whoever he is, behind that name.
And saying it out loud makes it feel like something else. Like I’m holding it up to the light and asking it to be real.
Aurora smirks, one eyebrow quirking up. “Little Maisie’s got game, huh?”
I roll my eyes, but there’s a small laugh that slips out anyway. “No, I definitely don’t. I don’t even know him. It’s just… this guy I’ve been messaging for a few weeks. He goes by Six. That’s literally all I know.”
Isabella’s voice softens. “And you like him?”
I bite down on the inside of my cheek. My heart gives a traitorous little flutter. “Yeah,” I admit quietly. “But I’m too scared to meet him.”
Isabella lifts a brow, her expression shifting. “And Austin?” she asks. “You like him too?”
I let out a breath and shake my head, more at myself than anything.
“Yeah. I do.” My chest aches just saying it.
“I just… I know this doesn’t mean anything to him.
This date, it’s just to clear his conscience or whatever.
To make him feel better about kissing me when he didn’t mean to.
” I swallow, my fingers curling in my lap.
Isabella turns to face me. “I’ve known Austin for a while,” she says, “and he doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do.”
I shift on the bed. I want to believe her, I really do. But there’s this knot in my stomach that won’t allow me to. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up, you know? I know what kind of girls he’s usually seen with.” I glance up, biting the inside of my cheek. “And I look nothing like them.”
Aurora shifts the clothes on my bed and faces me.
“Okay, listen. I hate most girls. I hate how fake they are, and how boy obsessed they are, and how everything has to boil down to competition with other women. But I don’t hate you.
I actually like you. Which means you’ve already won me over.
And if you can win me, you can win him.”
My mouth twitches into a half smile. “That’s… sweet?”
“It’s practically a love confession coming from her,” Isabella tells me. “Trust me.”
“You’re welcome,” Aurora says with a smirk. “Okay. Enough feelings. Time to turn you into a smoke show.”
Aurora orders me to stand up, which I do—because she’s slightly terrifying—and they tug me to my vanity. Isabella pulls out some lip gloss, and Aurora is already plugging in my curling iron.
I feel something shift in my chest as the girls hover over me, helping me get ready for a date with Austin. Feeling like maybe for once in my life, I’m not just the background character in everyone else’s story.
I can be the main character in mine.