29. Austin
AUSTIN
I ’m not even ten minutes into practice, and I already feel like shit.
Not physically. Physically I feel great.
I’ve got a full night’s sleep behind me, my legs are firing, and my passes are sharp.
But inside? My stomach’s twisted and weird, and it’s not from the skate drills Coach just made us run.
It’s because there are two things I’ve been thinking about nonstop since I woke up this morning.
One: I still haven’t told Maisie I know she’s Cherry.
And two: I keep replaying the way she looks at me.
I’ve never had a girl look at me like that before. Sure, they give me the sex eyes, lick their lips imagining what I look like naked. But Maisie… she looks at me like she trusts me. Like maybe I’m more than just the guy who knows how to flirt, kiss, and unhook a bra one-handed.
Which, for the record, I absolutely do know how to do. But that’s not the point.
The point is, I think I’m in trouble. Deep trouble.
My legs are burning, sweat dripping down my back, but all I can think about is Maisie.
Maisie in my bed, curled into my chest. Maisie blushing when I kissed her shoulder.
Maisie, trusting me enough to let me touch her, to feel her soft skin and her racing heart under my hands, and still—still—I couldn’t say it.
That I know she’s Cherry.
I should’ve told her last night. Or this morning. Or the second I realized.
But I didn’t. I just held her and pressed kisses into her neck and told myself I’d figure it out later.
Only now it’s later and I still have no fucking idea what I’m doing.
I whip a pass across the ice to Cole, who fumbles it like a jackass.
“Jesus, Cole,” I bark. “You catching passes with your chin?”
He flips me off without looking. “Maybe if you didn’t throw it like a psychopath, I’d catch it.”
“You calling me strong?” I grin, skating backward.
“Calling you annoying,” he fires back.
I click my tongue. “Same thing.”
Logan skates past and smacks my stick with his. “Keep flirting, maybe he’ll take you to dinner.”
I smirk. “Dinners aren’t his thing. More like silence and glares.”
Laughter echoes down the ice, Coach’s whistle slicing through it a second later.
“Enough with the jokes!” Coach yells. “Back to the drill. Austin, stop chirping and lead the line.”
I raise a hand and shoot him a wink. “You got it, Coach.”
“Don’t wink at me, Rhodes.”
I shoot him another one because I like to bust his balls, but even with the laughter and fun I’m having being back on the ice, my thoughts keep drifting.
Because here’s the thing. If I tell her now, she’ll think I was using her. That I took her secrets and confessions and used them to get close to her. To get in her pants or whatever else she might concoct in that brain of hers.
And yeah, I want her. I want her bad. But not because I read her private thoughts.
I want her because she’s Maisie. Because she’s stubborn and brilliant and rolls her eyes at my jokes but secretly likes them.
Because she makes me feel like something more than the guy who screws up his grades and gets suspended.
And I want her to believe that.
Coach blows the whistle again, and we’re off. Sprint drills, shooting drills, 3-on-2 plays. I’m sweating and breathing hard but it feels good to move, to focus, to be back on the ice with the guys.
Practice wraps an hour later and I peel off my helmet, sweat soaking my hair, my jersey stuck to my chest. The guys are filing off toward the locker room when I see Maisie, lingering by the wall.
I skid to a stop, caught off guard. She doesn’t have practice today so what the hell is she doing here.
Screw it. I don’t care. I’m just happy to see her. I break out into a grin at the sight of her standing with her arms crossed, and her dark brown hair twisted into a bun.
I stash my skate guards and head her way.
“What are you doing here?” I ask her, running a hand through my soaked hair.
She shrugs. “Just wanted to watch you practice.”
A smile tugs at my lips, wide as fuck. “You were watching me, huh?” I tease.
She rolls her eyes, pushing at my chest. “Sue me for trying to support my boyfriend.”
Everything in me short-circuits.
My heart actually skips.
Boyfriend.
Never been called that before. Never been anyone’s boyfriend.
Maisie freezes. Her eyes go wide, mouth parting like she can’t believe the words just came out of her.
“Oh my god,” she breathes. “I—I don’t know why I said that. I didn’t mean—obviously we’re not?—”
“Yes we are.”
Her brows shoot up. “What?”
I step closer, careful not to crowd her. “When I kissed you the morning after the game, I didn’t do it on a whim, Maisie. I kissed you because I meant it, because I knew what it would mean for us if I did.”
She looks stunned, but I keep going, because fuck it. I’m all in now.
“I’m not just messing around here, Maisie. I know what I want.” My voice softens. “And I want you.”
She blinks hard. Her hand flutters like she doesn’t know what to do with it before she tugs at the end of her sleeve, eyes darting everywhere but my face. “I should go,” she says, voice quiet. “I’ve got studying to do and?—”
“Let me get changed. I’ll walk you back.”
Her gaze lifts again, cautious. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.” I cup her face gently, letting my thumb brush her cheek. “I want to.”
Her face softens and her lips pull into a cute smile. I can’t help it; I lean in and kiss her. Just a quick kiss, but when I pull back, she’s looking up at me like I just tilted her entire world.
God, she’s cute.
One day I’m going to tattoo those eyes on my body, I swear.
I force myself to back away before I say something dumb, like marry me or drop out and come on the road with me forever . I’ve officially lost all self-control when it comes to this girl.
I head to the locker room, moving fast. I pull off my gear, hit the showers, get dressed in record time. The guys chirp me the whole way, because of course they do.
“She’s got you whipped already,” Logan says, smirking.
“Don’t care,” I mutter, pulling my hoodie over my head.
And I mean it. I’ve never meant anything more.
By the time I step outside, she’s still there, waiting for me.
Her head lifts as I approach, and her whole face lights up. It hits me square in the chest.
“You ready?” I ask.
She nods and I hold out my hand, threading my fingers through hers.
We walk back to her dorm like that, her hand firmly in mine, and our shoulders brushing every so often. I make sure I’m on the outside of the sidewalk—don’t know when I started doing that, just feels right. It’s cold as fuck, but I barely notice. Everything feels warm with her beside me.
When we finally get to her dorm, she stops and turns to face me. “Thanks for walking me,” she says softly.
“I should be the one thanking you, baby.” I lean in, kissing her again, because I’m already craving the feel of her mouth on mine again. When I pull back, I press my forehead against hers. “It’s rare that I have someone I care about watching my games.”
She scoffs under her breath. “Right. Tell that to the sea of girls with ‘Rhodes’ plastered across their backs.”
I smile, catching her chin gently and tilt her face up to mine. “You didn’t hear me.”
Her brows knit, confused.
“I said someone I care about. Couldn’t care less about the rest of them.” I pause. “You though—” My thumb brushes across her cheekbone. “It was really fucking cool having you out there for me.”
She holds my gaze, her eyes flickering away for a moment before settling back on me. Her lips part slightly, as if she’s about to say something, then closes them again. She swallows, hesitating just a second longer before finally whispering, “Do you… want to come in?”
My heart flatlines for a second.
Do I want to come in?
Hell yes, I want to come in. But?—
I run a hand through my hair, trying to gather whatever’s left of my self-control.
“Maisie,” I say, my voice rough, “you know I do. But I told you I’d go slow. And I meant it. I don’t want to fuck that up just because?—”
My words trail off when she places her hands flat against my chest, running them up until she wraps them around my neck. “But what if I don’t want you to go slow?”
It punches the air right out of me.
I freeze, blinking at her. And when she lifts onto her tip-toes and presses a soft kiss against my lips, I groan, pulling her closer as I step inside her dorm.
The door clicks shut behind us as she kicks off her shoes. I do the same, following her across the room.
We fall onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs. She’s under me, her hands sliding up my chest, warm and eager and a little shaky, and it’s killing me . My blood’s rushing so loud I can barely hear myself think.
My fingers find her waist, slipping beneath the hem of her shirt. Her skin’s so fucking soft and hot under my hands. She shivers at my touch, and my stomach tightens because I want to give her everything I have, every bit of me.
I hover over her, my breath ragged, trying to keep it together. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” I whisper.
Her hands slip under my shirt, her fingertips grazing my bare skin, and I let out a shaky breath, pressing closer. My own hands explore the curve of her side, the gentle dip of her back. Her body arches toward me, and when I trail my lips just below her ribs, she gasps.
I pull back slightly, my hand resting at the hem of her shirt. “Can I take this off?” I ask. “I want to see you.”
There’s a flicker of hesitation, a pause that makes my chest tighten. Then she nods, lifting her arms a little.
I ease the fabric up slowly, inch by inch. I’m not rushing this. Not with her. I want to savor every single second.
But just as the shirt clears her chest, she jerks, her hand snapping out to shove mine away. “Wait—no.”
I freeze instantly. Her shirt’s halfway off, caught awkwardly, and I pull it back down without saying anything, my heart thudding in my chest.
I shift back, giving her space. “I’m sorry. I thought?—”
“No, I just—” She’s already tugging the fabric down, arms crossed over her chest. “I don’t know why I freaked out. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t,” I say, sitting up. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
She won’t look at me. Her jaw’s tight, and her eyes are shining in a way that makes my stomach twist. “We’ve done stuff before,” she says quietly, like she’s trying to explain it to herself . “I don’t know… I just… I thought I was okay, but then?—”
“Then you weren’t,” I finish softly. “You’re not ready and that’s okay. I can wait as long as you need.”
Her lips press into a thin line. She shakes her head, frustrated. “I don’t want to mess this up.”
My chest aches. “You’re not,” I say. “Maisie—hey, look at me.”
She does, locking those clear blue eyes with mine.
“I’m not here because I’m trying to get laid. I’m here because I like you and want to spend time with you. And if your body’s saying no, I’m listening. Every time. No matter what we’ve done before.”
Her throat bobs like she’s swallowing back something sharp. “I don’t want you to think I’m teasing you or that I changed my mind or?—”
“Baby.” I scoot closer, careful not to touch her until she lets me. “You’re allowed to change your mind. You’re allowed to have boundaries even if you were kissing me five seconds ago. You don’t owe me anything.”
“I just…” She fiddles with the hem of her shirt. “I don’t want you to be frustrated,” she whispers. “Or get bored of waiting and—” She shakes her head. “I’ve heard the rumors, Austin. I know what you were like before?—”
“Before what?” I cut her off. “Before you ?”
She blinks up at me, unsure.
I reach up, tracing my thumb along her cheek. “That’s the point, Maisie. That was all before I opened my eyes and saw you. Before I knew you. Before I wanted no one and nothing but you.”
She exhales shakily.
“Trust me, baby. I’m good with waiting. Months.
Years. However long it takes for you to feel comfortable and open up to me.
Don’t think about my past because all of that is irrelevant.
The only thing that matters to me is how you feel.
I’m not in any rush. I’d lie in this bed with you a hundred times and never ask for more than this if that’s what you want. ”
She sniffles, tears glinting in her glossy eyes, and her lashes stick together. “Why are you like this?”
“Like what, baby?” I ask her, wiping the tears under her eyes.
“Too good to be true.”
“Definitely not too good to be true,” I say with a shake of my head, brushing my thumb over her knuckles. “I’m just trying not to fuck this up. Because you matter to me.”
She doesn’t say anything to that. Just shifts forward and presses her forehead into my shoulder.
After a while, she whispers, “Will you stay? I don’t want you to leave.”
My whole body softens. “Yeah, Mais,” I whisper, pressing my lips to the top of her head. “I’ll stay.”
She changes into comfier clothes and makes me face the wall while she does it—pure agony—and when she finally climbs into bed, she curls into me without a word, her cheek pressed right against my chest.
She puts on some old movie I don’t recognize. She mouths the lines, and I barely register the plot because I’m too busy watching her.
Eventually, her breathing slows, her lashes rest against her cheek, and she falls asleep right there, tangled up in my arms.
A smile tugs at my lips as I close my eyes, feeling her heartbeat steadying against mine.
I’d wait forever for her without a second thought.