Chapter 3 Chloe
chloe
The media room is the largest room at Creekside.
It’s used for Bingo, movie night, trivia tournaments, Thanksgiving…
basically anything coordinated. I’d rather be picking a film for movie night than testing the markers for Bingo, but since I won’t be here later, I want to make sure everything is set up correctly.
I’ve met a few of the other volunteers; most of them are here out of some sort of requirement or obligation, so I don’t fully trust them to get things done the way they should be—which is perfect.
I drop a marker at the sound of the large door in the otherwise quiet room and look up to find Maverick Hall taking up all the space in the door frame.
He’s intimidatingly good-looking, with his piercing blue eyes and his freshly shaven dark blond buzz cut.
He’s not a small or even an average-sized guy.
He’s easily over six feet, judging by the way he’s towered over me once before, and he has the wingspan of someone who should be playing basketball rather than hockey.
“Need some help?” He doesn’t wait for me to respond, but rather just begins moving the furniture that was placed off to the sides last night for the cleaning crew.
He pushes the sleeves of his sweatshirt up, and I quickly look away because I have no business ogling this man’s veiny forearms. For a solid second, I wonder if we’re going to be able to work together in silence long enough for my thoughts to simmer down, but it seems that would be too much to ask for.
“How was your summer? I feel like I didn’t see you at all.”
“You didn’t see me at all last summer either,” I respond, not looking up from my dotted paper.
“Your best friend wasn’t dating my best friend last summer.”
No, she wasn’t. I love Savannah and Noah, and I truly could not be happier for them, but their coupling has put me in the line of Maverick’s sight more times than I’d ever been in my previous three years at LCU.
I’d be lying if I said I’ve never noticed him before, but Maverick isn’t exactly known for his long-term dating history.
And I know myself. I could never have a casual hook up without spiraling after and thinking that it was anything more than that.
Not to mention, I’ve spent my first three years at LCU trying to prove to Nathan that I’m loyal to the soil and only want to be with him.
“I saw you last week leaving Kegan’s place.”
Now my head snaps to him.
“Saturday, I think?” He looks away like he’s trying to remember. “I don’t know. It was one day last week. I was driving by and saw you walking down the steps to your car.”
“Oh,” I breathe, realizing the confusion. “I was actually visiting Nathan, his roommate.” I shrug my shoulder like it’s no big deal; when in reality, I had taken an everything shower, put on a new outfit, and sat by my phone, waiting for him to call.
“Quant?”
I try to hide my smile, but my lips betray me as I nod my head.
“Are you…dating him?” There’s a hint of surprise in his voice, and it makes me both embarrassed and annoyed at the same time.
“We’re—” I pause, because truthfully, I don’t know what we are. “We’re close.”
“Ahh. I got it.” He nods his head like he just figured out some grand puzzle. “Say no more.”
“What do you mean ‘Ahh?’”
“You’re his tryst.”
“His what?” I squeak.
“His side piece. His Netflix and Chill. His wham-bam thank you, ma’am.” He flicks his wrist, causing his fingers to snap together and my jaw drops.
“Oh my God.” I shake my head in disgust. “No. I’m not any of those things.”
“You’re not his girlfriend. You just go over to his house and hook up. Do you prefer the term ‘friends with benefits?’”
“That’s not—” I sigh and shake my head. I might not have known what Nathan and I are for years, but I do know we’re not that. “Forget it. You don’t understand.”
Maverick comes to stand across the table from me, propping himself up by his forearms on the back of a chair. He smacks his gum once before smiling and asking, “What don’t I understand?”
“I don’t know how you do relationships—”
“I don’t,” he interrupts me.
“Okay, well, not everyone is in a relationship solely for the sex.”
“It would appear that Nathan is staying out of a relationship solely for the sex.”
My eyes narrow at him, and I debate how important it is to me to defend our relationship or even bother trying to define it.
“We like each other, but it just hasn’t been the right time. I helped him when he was going through some stuff—”
“Like what?”
A breakup.
“It’s personal.”
He nods his head with a knowing smirk on his lips and stands up straight before rounding the table and standing in front of me.
“And now?”
I have to tilt my head back just to keep eye contact with him, and when he looks at me with those baby blues, I can’t think. I try to swallow, but it’s only when he lowers himself to sit on top of the table that I remember he asked me something.
“Football,” I breathe, forcing myself to look away from him. “His focus is on football right now, but I’m not a fair-weather girl, and I’m not going to bail on him just because we can’t be together right now.”
“Who’s to say you’ll be together when the season’s over?”
“He’s told me,” I answer a little too defensively.
Maverick studies my face, and although Nathan’s exact words were, ‘I’m not ready to be in a relationship right now, but if I was, you know, I would choose you,’ I tell Maverick what I think Nathan really meant. “He wants to be with me, it’s just not a good time.”
“He’s using you.”
I swear my heartbeat stops and then thumps again like it just restarted itself. “What?”
“He’s using you,” he says again with no malice, just matter-of-factly.
“He doesn’t have to make anything official with you because he’s got everything right now.
You probably come over any time he calls, but he could also call someone else if he wanted, without guilt, because he’s single.
” He finger quotes the word single, and even though I’ve guiltily felt the same thoughts before, hearing someone else say them out loud feels so much worse.
When Nathan and I met freshman year during a microeconomics class, I was instantly drawn to him.
He was confident in a way that I wasn’t, and when he showed an interest in me, I felt wanted.
I’ve always had a little more romantic idealization of life, so even though I knew my feelings for him were real, I couldn’t expect him to feel the same so soon.
Going into year four, and I’ve been by his side for everything.
I know him better than he knows himself, so I refuse to believe in a world where we don’t end up together.
“I get how it seems.” I take a step back, needing to put some distance between us and fresh air in my lungs. “But it’s different.”
“Is it?”
I freeze with my hand halfway to the cup of markers before setting my shoulders back. I don’t need someone who, as far as I’m concerned, has never been in a relationship a day in his life to tell me what’s wrong with mine.
I grab the cup, march to the table at the front of the room, and arrange the rest of the supplies so that everything will be perfect when Jonathan arrives for his volunteer hours tonight.
I don’t look back as I grab my bag and head straight for the door.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s fine.” I have one hand on the handle when a large calloused hand grips my elbow, and I turn around.
“Chloe.” His voice is softer than I’ve ever heard him, but I can’t bring myself to look up at his face.
“You don’t know our whole story,” I manage to get out.
“Okay.”
“And I didn’t explain us very well.”
He nods his head once, putting both hands in the pockets of his shorts. “All I was trying to say was if he wanted to be with you, he would be.”
I flick my Rainbows under the small shoe rack by the front door and drop my keys in the Café Bustelo coffee container on the entry table.
The oversized window in our living room lights up the space with the warm morning sun.
Nothing beats snuggling up on our deep cushioned couch with a fresh cup of coffee and binge-watching my favorite show while the lazy sun beams in through the cottage-style bay window.
Except this.
Tiny dust fragments dance through the soft pink rays of the evening sun pouring through the windows in my room.
The black vintage iron bed frame and dusty blue comforter take on an orange hue in the light.
The spines of all the books on my built-in shelf glow, while my box of essential oils sits safely on the bottom shelf under constant shade.
Prism charms hang in the window, reflecting a rainbow over the butterfly wall art that hangs over the bed now calling my name.
This room is comfort in the form of four walls.
Ready to be in nothing but an oversized T-shirt and my underwear for the rest of the night, I strip off my tank top just as a knock sounds against my door.
“Chlo, you home?”
“Yeah, come in.”
Savannah saunters into my room, shaking some jelly beans in her fist before dropping to the end of my bed.
“How was work?” I ask, heading to my ensuite, and catching her eye roll on my way. “That bad, huh?”
“No. I’m just being dramatic. I got to work with Peter, so it wasn’t all bad. How was Ms. Rosie today?”
Rosie’s mischievous smile when she saw the giant brute of a hockey player come into the common room today flashes in my mind. Quickly followed by the man himself. That cocky tilt to his lips and eyes so blue you could drown in them almost makes me forget what he said about Nathan.
“Hello?”
I give a sharp shake of my head, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. “She’s good.” I clear my throat while running my hands under the cool water and then patting my face with them. “Same old Rosie.”
Savannah’s eyes follow me out of the bathroom with a slight quirk to her eyebrow. I ignore the silent question and pull out an extra large T-shirt that I won from a dive bar last summer in Bayview Beach.
“Wait!”
I freeze with the shirt halfway to my head.
“Come out with me tonight.”
“Where are we going?” I ask, even though we only ever go to Rowdy’s.
“Noah’s having his last party before the season starts—bonfire tonight.”
“I seem to recall them having a party last winter, mid-season.” I give her a pointed look, and even almost nine months later, she blushes at the mention of the night she met her now boyfriend.
“That was their one exception to the no parties during the season rule.” She waves a hand in front of her face. “This is the end of summer; start of a new and—for some—last season, party.”
“Mhmm,” I hum and throw the oversized shirt on anyway.
“Come on, Chlo,” she pleads. “We’ll go out tonight, and tomorrow we can spend all day on the couch ordering food and watching Sons of Anarchy.”
I tuck my oversized shirt into the band of my bra, turning it into a cropped T-shirt. Summer might be coming to an end, but I’ve never been known to dress for the weather.
“Hand me those shorts,” I say with a half-assed eye roll.
“Let’s go!” Savannah hops from the bed, tossing me my cut-off denims on her way to the door.