33. Maisie
MAISIE
I ’ve read the same paragraph five times.
I’m not even processing the words anymore.
Not because I don’t get it. I do, I’ve got the concepts down, I already outlined the chapter last night, but my brain is done—tapped out.
My eyes are dry, my wrist aches, and I’ve been sitting cross-legged on my bed for so long my legs are tingling.
My phone lights up a few seconds later and I glance down, smiling when I see Austin’s text.
Austin:
what are you doing?
Just seeing his name makes me smile. I roll onto my side and text him back.
Me:
Studying and trying not to die.
Austin:
come over. I’ll revive you with my lips.
Me:
Wow. Poetry.
Austin:
I contain multitudes babe.
also pizza.
Me:
Tempting, but I’m trying to be responsible.
Austin:
boooooring. come be irresponsible with me. we can make bad choices together.
I roll my eyes, but my stomach flips anyway. I’m literally drowning in notes, and all it takes is a few texts from him to make butterflies swarm in my belly.
Me:
Some of us actually want to pass our exams. Not all of us can get people to do what we want just by being hot.
Austin:
baby, you underestimate the power you have over me. You could tell me to jump off a cliff by batting those blue eyes and I would do it without a second thought.
also, is that you admitting I’m hot? bc if so, I’m framing this text.
Me:
You’re annoying.
Austin:
come over.
pleeeeease.
we can study together.
or like ignore studying completely.
your choice.
I stare at his last message, chewing on my bottom lip. I shouldn’t. I have a quiz tomorrow and two chapters left to write. But also… I really want to see him. I tell myself it’s just for an hour. Just a break. Just to clear my head.
Me:
Ok fine. I’ll be there in five minutes
Austin:
that’s my girl.
I shove my notes into a pile, tuck my highlighters into my pencil case, and zip everything up. I slip my phone into my pocket, put my earbuds in, grab my keys, and head out.
The walk to his house is short, but by the time I’m halfway there, I’ve second-guessed myself at least three times. Should I have changed out of this hoodie and worn something better? I probably look exhausted. I am exhausted, and definitely don’t look my best. But I just want to see him.
I tug my earbuds out when I reach his house, and the front door swings open before I even knock.
Austin steps out and grins the second he sees me, lazy and warm and so damn pretty it makes my knees weak.
Before I can say a word, he hooks an arm around my waist and kisses me.
His mouth moves over mine slowly, his tongue running along my bottom lip until I open up for him. It’s a slow, confident kiss that makes my head spin. I kiss him back, sliding my arms around his neck, my fingers brushing the back of his hair where it’s still damp from a shower.
God, I’ve missed him.
When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against mine. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I whisper back, slightly dazed.
“You’re wearing my hoodie again,” he says with a smirk, tugging the strings of the hoodie.
“I’m cold.” Though right now I’m burning up with his hands on me.
“Uh uh,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re obsessed with me.”
I roll my eyes but before I can say anything, he kisses me again, this time slower, and I feel it all the way down to my toes.
When he pulls away again, I think I actually whimper.
He hooks his fingers through mine and pulls me inside. The door swings shut behind us with a thud that probably echoes through the entire house.
We barely make it a few steps into the living room before someone calls out.
“Hey, Mais,” Nathan says around a mouthful of noodles.
I open my mouth to say hi back, but?—
“Get your own girlfriend, Hayes,” Austin cuts in.
Nathan raises a brow. “Relax. I was greeting her, not proposing.”
Austin turns to me like Nathan doesn’t exist. “Wanna go upstairs?”
“Please do,” Nathan mutters, shoveling another bite of noodles into his mouth.
I snort under my breath, but let Austin pull me toward the stairs anyway, his grip still locked around mine like he’s not risking letting go.
He doesn’t say anything as we head up. Doesn’t look back. Just leads me straight to his room.
He kicks the door shut and flops onto the bed and I let myself sink onto the edge of his bed.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Just tired,” I say with a shrug.
“Wanna talk about it?”
I shake my head. “Not really.”
He doesn’t push. Just shifts closer and nudges my arm with his knee. “Cool. Then let’s not. Wanna cuddle and ignore the world for a while?”
I blink at him.
He shrugs. “We could also make out. Whatever works.”
I roll my eyes, but the moment he wraps his arm around me, I melt into him like I don’t have four papers due and a thousand unread emails in my inbox. My cheek finds his chest, and I close my eyes as he presses a soft kiss to the top of my head.
This is dangerous. How easy it is to relax here. How good it feels to be held without needing to say anything.
“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard,” he murmurs.
I sigh, my fingers curling in the hem of his T-shirt. “I have things to do.”
He shifts under me until I’m looking up at him. His brows pinch, his eyes serious. “You can take a break, baby. You’re like… the smartest person I know. You don’t need to go this hard all the time.”
I want to believe him.
I do .
But my self-worth is so tightly wrapped around how well I do in school, how good I am at being good, it’s hard to let that go. Being the smart one, the responsible one—that’s who I am .
“I’m taking one now, aren’t I?” I say quietly.
He chuckles, low and warm. “You’re the only person I know who has to schedule being a girlfriend.”
My gaze flicks up. I bite my lip—mostly to stop the smile trying to tug at my mouth.
He notices.
Of course he notices.
His eyes drop to my lips, and then his thumb is there, dragging slowly across them like he’s trying to memorize the shape.
“What’s up, baby?” he asks, voice all soft edges now.
“You called me your girlfriend.”
His lips twitch into a smirk. “You are my girlfriend.”
My face heats instantly. “You never actually asked.”
He stares at me for a beat, then laughs, his head falling back against the pillow. “Oh my God, you’re right. What a scandal. Should I draft a formal letter? Deliver it via pigeon?”
I give him a look. “You’re insufferable.”
He shoots me a look. “Maisie.”
“Yeah?”
“I like you.” He cups my face with both hands. “Like a lot. Will you be my girlfriend or do I need to get down on one knee and make it weird?”
He starts to lift himself, but I laugh and grab his hoodie. “Please don’t.”
“Good,” he says, flopping back beside me with a groan. “Because my knee cracks every time I bend it.”
“You’re twenty-one.”
“I’m fragile.”
He rolls toward me again, nosing into the crook of my neck like he’s been starved for this. His arm slides around my waist, tugs me closer.
“God, I missed you.”
I can’t help but smile. “You saw me yesterday.”
“Exactly. It’s been way too long.”
His thumb strokes the dip of my waist through my sweatshirt. And even though we’re fully clothed, my body knows exactly what his is doing. Exactly where he is. I feel every brush of his fingertips like a spark down my spine.
My hand moves without thinking. I drag my fingers across his chest, right where the fabric of his hoodie dips at the collar, revealing the edge of warm skin and muscle. He shifts slightly, sucking in a breath, like even that small touch gets to him.
One of his arms curls behind my back, pulling me in. The other hand slides up, brushing along my jaw before cupping my cheek again.
Then his mouth finds mine, and I feel it all the way down my spine.
He groans into my mouth, and pulls back just enough to look at me. “Fuck,” he mutters. “You taste like cherries.”
I blink. “It’s my lip balm.”
He smirks, shaking his head as his thumb traces along my jaw. “That’s fine by me. Cherry reigns supreme.”
I freeze.
He doesn’t notice at first. His hand is still stroking over my hip, his mouth back at my neck, kissing a line just below my ear. But my brain has already spiraled into overdrive.
Because those words?
They aren’t just words.
They’re his words. Six’s .
Stupid, jokey words that shouldn’t mean anything. But they do . Because I remember the first time he said it, how my stomach swirled and how much I smiled.
I remember the way he used to say stupid things like that, turning nonsense into inside jokes. The way he made me laugh when I was having the worst week. How it felt easy with him, safe, even though I didn’t know his real name or face or anything beyond his words.
And now Austin’s here.
Warm. Real. Tangled up with me on his bed. And I’m thinking about someone else.
I suck in a quiet breath. He murmurs something against my skin—something I don’t even catch—and all I can feel is the panic starting to creep up my throat.
This isn’t fair to him.
I pull back a little, enough that he notices the shift. His arms don’t fall away, but they tense. His eyes search mine.
“Austin?”
He stills completely.
His brow creases, like he already knows something’s coming. “Yeah?”
I hesitate, biting down on the inside of my cheek until I taste blood.
“I have to tell you something.”
He lets out a breathy laugh that’s nowhere near amused. “Oh. Okay. Cool. These words are never terrifying or anything.” He lifts his eyebrows, half-sitting up now. “Please don’t tell me I already fucked up the boyfriend thing. I’ll do anything. Swear to God. I’ll even learn to bake.”
That makes me smile, even though it shouldn’t.
I reach for his hand, lacing our fingers together even though I know what I’m about to say might screw everything up. But I have to say it.
Because I like him.
Too much.
And he deserves to know the truth.
“You’ve done nothing wrong.”
I reach up, brushing my fingers through his stupid, messy hair, pushing it back from his forehead. He’s still got that half- smirk like he’s expecting me to tease him again—but it drops when he sees my face.
“I just… I want to tell you about something,” I murmur. “Or someone.”
His expression sobers a little. “Okay.”
“I’m telling you because I trust you, and I don’t want to hide anything from you.”
Austin nods slowly, his hand sliding down to rest on my thigh. He doesn’t speak, just waits.
“Remember when I said I had a crush before?” I ask quietly, my gaze on his collarbone because looking him in the eyes right now might make me chicken out. “It wasn’t someone from class. Or school. It was this guy I was texting.”
Austin’s hand stills. Completely. I feel his gaze flicker across my face.
“I didn’t even know his name,” I continue. “We met completely by accident. I sent a text to the wrong number. He replied. And we just… kept talking.”
Austin keeps his eyes on me, and I just wish I knew what he was thinking.
“We talked for weeks,” I say, my voice wobbling a little. “I don’t even know how it happened. It just did,” I admit with a shrug. “It was so easy. He made me laugh and he made me feel… seen, I guess.”
I finally look up.
“And then I met you,” I say, my heart thudding against my chest. “And I really, really liked you. Even though you annoyed the hell out of me sometimes.”
His mouth twitches. “Only sometimes?”
I narrow my eyes. “I’m trying to tell you something here.”
“Sorry, baby. Continue.” His thumb starts moving again, slow circles on the inside of my knee.
“I told him we couldn’t talk anymore a few weeks ago,” I admit. “Once I started to have feelings for you, it didn’t feel right. But he was still my friend. The only one I had for a while. And I guess…” I pause, my throat tightening. “I guess I still miss him sometimes. That’s all.”
There’s a long pause. He’s looking at me again, not saying anything, and I hate how unsure I suddenly feel.
But then he leans in. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, and he brushes his thumb over my cheekbone. “I’m sure he misses you too,” he murmurs. “He’d be an idiot not to.”
I was so worried to tell him about Six. I’d been dreading this conversation for days. Rehearsing it. Bracing myself for the way he’d maybe pull back, or tense up, or act weird.
But of course he’s understanding.
But he didn’t.
And the pressure in my chest builds—louder now, heavier. Like my heart’s trying to tell me something I’m not ready to hear.
I blink up at him. He’s so close, still holding my face, his thumb moving so gently across my cheek it makes my breath catch.
So I lift up and press my lips to his.
He kisses me back immediately, groaning low in his throat, and the sound shoots straight down my spine.
His hand slides into my hair, the other one gripping low on my waist as he shifts and rolls on top of me.
His knee presses between my thighs, right against the seam of my leggings, and I arch up without thinking, chasing the friction, chasing him.
I moan into his mouth when it hits just right, my fingers clinging to the hem of his T-shirt, and he groans again.
The kiss turns messier. Hotter. Tongue and teeth and breathless noise. His hips rock down, just once, and I gasp.
He slides his hand up my side, slipping beneath my hoodie, dragging the fabric higher and higher until cool air hits my bare skin. My breath stutters, catching in my throat.
His thumb moves slow, rubbing circles over the thin fabric of my bra, and I gasp into his mouth.
But then he pulls back. Groaning, breathing hard, shaking his head. “Fuck,” he mutters, resting his forehead against mine. “This isn’t why I called you over.”
I grab a fistful of his hoodie and tug him back toward me. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “I want you to.”
He blinks. Shakes his head a little like he’s still not sure if he’s dreaming. “You sure?”
I nod, then take his hand—still resting high on my ribs—and guide it back up. Over my breast again. “Please.”
He groans loudly. “Don’t beg me,” he murmurs, his hips pressing down against mine. His head dips to my neck, mouth brushing over my throat. “You don’t know what the fuck that does to me. Looking at me with those big eyes of yours, begging… Jesus , Maisie.”
My cheeks are on fire. I’ve never done this before. Never been this bold. Never begged anyone for anything. But with him?
It’s easy.
It’s terrifyingly easy.
His hand moves again, slower this time. Almost like he’s savoring it. His thumb grazes the lace edge of my bra, then slides higher, right over my nipple.
The hoodie’s bunched at my ribs now, and I don’t care. I want it off. I want all of it off.
I need him to touch me. I need to feel his body against mine. I need him .
I curl my fingers into his back, dragging him closer, until I can feel every line of muscle pressed into me and look into his eyes.
“I want you inside me.”