37. Maisie
MAISIE
H e curses low and rough against my lips as he pulls out. His hand slides up to cup the back of my neck, his fingers threading through my hair as he kisses me softly through the orgasm. He groans softly as his hand bumps against a stuffed duck nestled in the sheets.
He pushes it aside, still catching his breath. “Sorry for the things you just saw, Mr. Quackers,” he mutters, shaking his head.
I laugh quietly, reaching over to tuck the duck back beside me. “We totally traumatized him.”
He leans in, brushing his lips against mine with a smirk. “Yeah, poor guy’s gonna need therapy after this.”
He rolls onto his side beside me, tugging me with him, our limbs tangled beneath the blanket. His arm wraps around my waist like a reflex, pulling me into his chest.
“I still can’t believe it was you,” I say, my thumb brushing over the pulse in his wrist.
His eyes flutter open. “You think I can believe it?”
I lift my head a little to meet his gaze. “But you knew,” I whisper.
“Not at first. Only after Isabella told me the name of the guy you were talking to.”
My heart stops for a second. “Your name.”
He nods, squeezing my hand gently. “My name.”
He brings our hands to his lips, kissing each knuckle slowly. One. Two. Three soft kisses.
“So,” he murmurs, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth, “now that I know it’s you… why Cherry?”
I groan and hide my face in the crook of his neck. “It’s stupid.”
He chuckles. “Try me.”
“I panicked,” I admit. “You asked me for my name, and I didn’t know what to tell you. And I looked around my dorm and my eyes landed on my cherry Chapstick.”
He chuckles, his chest shaking against mine.
“Shut up,” I mumble, trying to bury myself under the blanket.
He drags it back down and shoots me a grin. “I love it. It’s very you. Sweet, delicious, and the sexiest fruit ever.”
I shoot him a look. “Don’t act like yours was better. Six?”
“Mine was fucking excellent,” he declares, puffing out his chest. “Six-string-guitar, baby.”
I blink up at him. “Wow. I didn’t even make the connection.”
He chuckles, nudging his nose against mine. “I thought you were smarter than that, Freckles.”
I roll my eyes. “You were the last person I thought it could be.”
His laughter dies down as his hand slides up to cup my cheek. “Were you disappointed?” he asks. “To find out it was me.”
I look at him for a long second and then shake my head. “No.”
His eyes soften and his shoulders drop in relief.
“Six was—you—were there for me when no one else was. When I felt lonely, and had no one… I had you. But then I started to fall for you, and Six at the same time that…” I shake my head.
“I started to feel guilty when things got serious between us, because I didn’t want to let go of that connection we had, even if it was just through a screen. ”
His thumb brushes over my cheekbone and I glance up at him.
“Finding out it was you was confusing and unexpected.” He stiffens slightly at that.
“But also the best moment of my life, because the two people I had fallen for were right here in front of me, and I didn’t have to choose.
I could have both.” I lift my hand and place it on his chest, right over his heart. “I could have you.”
He rubs his thumb over my cheek, leans in and kisses me.
“I felt so fucking guilty,” he whispers against my lips.
“Because I wanted both of you. I wanted Cherry’s words.
And I wanted you. I didn’t know they were the same person.
” He pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes.
“I didn’t know you were right fucking here.
” He cups my face, his fingers brushing just beneath my jaw.
“You were right here,” he repeats, like he still can’t believe it.
He sighs, dragging his hand through his hair. “How the hell did I not notice you before?” he murmurs, mostly to himself.
I tug the blanket higher. “No one did. I was invisible.”
He frowns, like it physically pains him to hear that.
“I should’ve noticed you,” he says, a pained expression in his eyes. “I should’ve seen you. I should’ve dropped to my knees the second you walked into class Freshman year and begged you to love me.”
My stomach flutters from his words.
He brushes a strand of hair off my cheek, his thumb lingering there.
“You came out of the blue,” he says, shaking his head.
“I never could have seen you coming. You’re the last thing I ever expected and the best.” He smiles and the way he’s looking at me makes the breath in my chest disappear.
“You’re everything I didn’t know I wanted. ”
I blink fast, fighting the burn behind my eyes.
“Thank you,” he says, and he says it like it’s the most serious thing in the world, “for agreeing to tutor me.”
I smile, feeling my lower lip wobble. “Thank you for loving me.”
His smile widens. “Easiest thing I’ve done in my life.”
We lie there for a minute, just holding each other, our legs tangled under the sheet, his hand resting over my ribs.
“Do you want to grab some breakfast?” he asks eventually.
“I wish,” I say. “I have to go to the rink soon.”
He groans. “Sectionals prep?”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “Coach made me swap the footwork sequence again.”
He pulls back a little, his thumb brushing over my hipbone. “Is your mom coming tomorrow?” he asks.
I freeze.
There’s a heartbeat of silence. I could lie. I could say maybe or I think so or she’s trying , but I don’t. Something about the way he’s watching me makes the truth crawl right out.
“No,” I say. “She’s not.”
Austin’s expression shifts, brows pulling together like he’s trying to figure out how to fix it.
“I invite her every year,” I say, keeping my eyes fixed on the edge of the blanket between us.
I run my finger along the hem, over and over, needing something to hold onto.
“Every single year. And she always has a reason not to come. She says she’s busy, or the timing’s bad, or she can’t get away from work. ”
Austin shifts beside me. I feel the movement, but I don’t look. I’m not ready for whatever’s in his eyes.
“She hasn’t been to any of them,” I say quietly. “Not since I was a kid.”
His mouth pulls into a soft frown, his thumb brushing my wrist where he’s still holding my hand. “Maisie…”
“I’m fine,” I say quickly. “I’m used to it.”
But I’m not. Not really.
Because I still try. Every year. I still send the invites.
I still text the details. I still check flights and hotel prices, just in case she changes her mind.
I still make sure the venue isn’t too far.
I still stress about whether she’ll hate the dress code, or think the music’s too loud or the rink’s too cold.
I try to make it easy for her to come. I still hope she’ll show up.
But she never does.
I blink hard and my throat burns. I hate that it still gets to me.
Austin reaches for me, tugging me into his chest like he’s done it a hundred times before. His arms wrap around me, one hand curling protectively at the back of my neck.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs against my hair. “That fucking sucks.”
I nod. A tear slips out anyway, and I’m glad he’s holding me so tight I don’t have to look at him.
“It’s not a big deal,” I mumble.
“It is a big deal,” he says firmly.
He leans back just enough to tilt my chin up with his fingers, his eyes fierce and full of something that makes my chest ache.
“You’re a fucking star on that ice, Maisie. And she’s missing it.”
That breaks something in me. My laugh cracks halfway through. “Stop saying nice things or I’m gonna cry.”
He doesn’t stop. Instead, he pulls me closer, wraps both arms around me again, and presses his face to my shoulder.
“I’ll be there,” he says, pressing his lips to my skin. “Front row. Screaming your name. Probably embarrassing the shit out of you.”
I bury my face in his neck, smiling against the warmth of his skin. “You’re gonna get kicked out.”
“Worth it,” he says, and I can feel his grin against my temple. “I’ll be the loudest guy in the rink,” he adds. “Recording everything. Blowing up the group chat. Hyping the hell out of you.”
I pull back enough to give him a look. “Austin.”
“What?” he says, looking way too pleased with himself. “It’s important to show I’m there to support my girlfriend.”
I breathe out a laugh. “You’re deranged.”
He just smirks. “And yet, you love me.”
“Yeah,” I say, my lips curving into a smile as I look into his soft hazel eyes. “I really do.”
His whole face softens. He breaks out into a grin and his hand slips into my hair, and then he kisses me again, like he’s saying it back without words.
And I swear I could drown in the way he touches me.
And I wouldn’t even mind.