Chapter 21 Chloe
chloe
The sweatshirt Maverick has given me twice now still smells like him. Faint but unmistakable. I fold it carefully and set it on top of the clothes in my duffle bag, then reach for a pair of socks, forcing myself to stay focused.
I wish I could blame the sweatshirt for the way he’s occupying my mind, but the reality is, he’s been consuming my thoughts well before last night.
The line has been blurry since day one, but I chalked it up to my body not knowing the rules.
Adamant that this was normal and confusion was bound to happen when we’re pretending to date.
Especially when you're dating someone has hot as Maverick Hall. Between his glacier blue eyes, that cocky grin, and his body built for sinning, it’s no wonder he’s had me sexually charged.
The problem is, I’ve been thinking about him beyond his looks lately, and that’s the part I don’t quite know what to do with yet.
“Chlo! Your boyfriend’s here!” Savannah’s singsong voice calls from the living room.
I roll my lavender oil on my wrist, grab my bag, and close my bedroom door behind me.
Maverick leans against the kitchen counter in his usual oversized white T-shirt, but this morning, he’s paired it with a thick open flannel and a black Toronto Titans hat tugged down low.
Something flutters low in my gut, but when he rises to his full height, taking a step and towering over me, it’s the pulse between my legs I notice the most.
“You ready to ride, Chloe baby?”
Savannah snorts a laugh, but I bite back my smile, not ready to admit the effect he has on me yet, but based on the way his teasing lips pull up, he definitely noticed.
I roll my shoulders back, forcing my voice to come out steadier than I feel. “I thought we were all riding together?”
“Turns out, Noah doesn’t pack as light as you,” he says, reaching down for the bag in my hand. “He’s got too much shit in the back of his car. So, you’re riding with me.”
Great.
If I got lost in thoughts of him during a five minute drive to the grocery store, there’s no telling where I’ll end up after a three hour road trip.
“Don’t forget the snacks.” Savannah grabs the bag we packed last night from the counter before leaning around Maverick as he heads to the door.
“Oh, and—” He pauses, turning around to face us. “If Noah tells you I wrestled him until he agreed to these driving arrangements…” He smiles before his teeth catch the corner of his lip, and he tilts his head to the side. “I’m innocent until proven guilty.”
I roll my eyes but he’s already out the door.
Savannah hooks her arm through mine as we follow him.
We reach the driveway just in time to catch his shirt riding up, showing off a sliver of his back as he loads my bag into the car.
I ignore the way my best friend bumps her hip into mine, and the silent squeal she’s making.
“I guess I’ll see you there,” I say, pulling her into a quick hug.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” she calls out. I don't look back, but judging by the slow amused grin on Mavericks face, she is making some perverted gesture behind me.
With my snacks in hand, I hop up into the passenger seat. The door shuts with a soft click, and suddenly, the air feels too quiet.
“Ready?” Maverick asks, reaching his hand behind my headrest and backing out of the parking spot.
Ready to spend three hours stuck in a car and then an entire weekend with the guy who has had a monopoly on all my thoughts the last week? Sure.
It takes all of five minutes to get out of Linden Creek and into the next small town.
We drive with the windows down, which should be too cold, but Maverick keeps both the heater and the seat warmers on.
My hair whips against the wind, covering my vision and tangling itself at the ends.
I pull my hair up into what I’m sure could be compared to a bird's nest on top of my head, and my heart races when my fingers pull on the basic black band at my wrists.
Neither of us has said anything about what almost happened in the library last night, and if he’s cool with pretending like it didn’t happen, then so am I.
Out of curiosity, I look over at him. He drives with one hand on the wheel, and the other out the window.
Neither of his wrists hold my schrunchie, though, and I don’t know why that makes my stomach sink.
“What’d you pack in there?” Maverick asks, pulling me from my drifting thoughts.
I glance up at his face just as he tips his chin toward my lap. His gum snaps between his teeth before he flashes that lazy, devastatingly charming grin.
“Just the essentials.”
He reaches over anyway, prying open the grocery bag nestled between my legs. When he can’t see what he’s grabbing, his hand moves, blinding searching, and I press my lips together when his knuckles graze the inside of my thigh through the plastic.
His eyebrows knit together when he pulls out a bag of sour gummy worms. “These are the essentials?”
“Yes.” I snatch them back.
“No protein? No sandwiches?”
“Who eats protein on a road trip?”
“I’m a big boy, Chloe,” he says, stretching his arms over the wheel and my eyes can’t help drift over him. With his eyes on the road, I take in the strong slope of his shoulders, the thick veins in his forearms, the way his chest fills his shirt like it was made to be gawked at.
“Okay, well, next time I’ll be sure to get our road trip catered.”
“Next time?” He looks over at me, his eyes narrow just enough to make the corners lift that half-smile playing behind them, and I can’t help getting lost in them.
“Keep your eyes on the road.” I try to scold him but he just laughs at the lack of conviction in my voice. “What would you have picked up if you were in charge of the snacks? Besides cereal. I didn’t think Reese’s Puffs would travel well in the car.”
He chuckles again and casually turns his hat around. The movement is too damn small to have such a large effect on me.
“I probably would have made something. I mean, nothing beats a glizzy post Rowdy’s,” he says. “But when I have the time, I’m a pretty good cook.”
I mime pulling out a pen scribbling against my palm.
“What are you doing?”
“Just adding to my list of things I know about my fake boyfriend. Plays hockey. Chews gum. World-renowned chef. Got it.”
He leans back with his arm stretched on the wheel ahead of him, and he looks over at me. “I like it when you’re mouthy.”
I run my tongue along my teeth, biting back a smile.
I’ve never pretended to be someone else, but most people have already decided who I am once they read the bullet points on my resume.
Sweet, perfect Chloe. There’s nothing she can’t do.
For whatever reason, though, when I’m with Maverick it feels different.
Maybe it’s because he knows what it’s like to be labeled as something—whether the title is warranted or not—but I don’t feel this need to filter myself or worry about failing or messing anything up with him. It just feels…easy.
“Have you been out this way before?”
“I’ve driven through Fernwood, but I’ve never stopped. We used to spend a week every summer out in Bayview.”
“You and your family?”
I nod. “And Savannah.”
“Do you have any siblings?”
“Nope. Not unless you count the Alvarez twins.”
Maverick switches his hands on the wheel, leaning his right arm on the center console. The shift is slight, but rather than leaning toward the window, his body is angled toward me now. I run my palms over my jeans, before turning the vents away from me.
“You guys are close,” he says. “I mean, you and Sav, obviously, but like, her whole family. I don’t think Coach would have been so cool in the locker room that day if you were anybody else.”
I just nod because how do you explain over a decade of loyalty to someone in one breath—especially to someone I’m only supposed to be pretending to date. And definitely not now that he’s taking up more space in my head than either of us agreed to.
“I love my brothers,” Maverick pipes up, cutting through my thoughts. “But sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to be an only child. You’re not constantly or unconsciously being compared to anyone else, but I guess without siblings…”
“All the attention is on you,” I finish for him.
He runs the hand that’s not on the wheel across his mouth as he contemplates that.
“How many brothers do you have?” I ask.
“Two.”
“Are you the baby?”
He laughs. “Surprisingly, no. Mason is six years older. I think my parents had their hands full with him and weren’t sure they wanted anymore. But then my mom had me and a year later my brother Myles was born.
“What do they do?” I ask, curious about what kind of pressure they must feel being related to a man who just got drafted into the NHL.
“Mason is the CEO of his own computer tech company.”
“Show off.” I roll my eyes sarcastically and Maverick meets me with a small huff of a laugh.
“And Myles,” he continues. “Is getting his aerospace engineering degree at MIT.”
“Holy shit,” I breathe.
“Yeah.” He laughs again. “It’s an odd thing at Thanksgiving when the professional hockey player is the least successful guy at the table.”
Boiled down to the most simple version, I think people would describe Maverick as either a playboy or a hothead.
But I’ve seen the quiet parts of him—and those quiet parts are loud, if you bother to pay attention.
He laughs off being ‘the least successful’ but I’ve seen the parts of him that he doesn't advertise. The parts of him that make him incredible, and I can’t ignore the ache I feel in my chest that he doesn’t give himself the same credit.
“I come from a ‘you can do anything’ and ‘the world is your oyster’ family,” I finally say.
“If I even think about doing something there's this—” I shake my head, searching for the words, and I realize I’ve only ever felt them, and never actually said them out loud.
“I don’t know, it’s like there’s a certainty that I’ve succeeded or I’ve won before I’ve even started. ”
Maverick’s brows pinch slightly, but he doesn’t say anything, just waits for me to continue.
“I don’t think there’s ever been any pressure directly from my parents, but sometimes it feels like my options are too limitless.”
“That explains it.”
“What?”
“Why you’re always doing the most.”
I huff a humorless laugh, looking down at the bags of candies in my lap. “It’s funny because sometimes it feels like no matter what I do it’s not enough.”
Two hours outside of town, and it’s the first lull in conversation we’ve had since we started driving. It’s not an awkward silence, though, and I don’t feel the need to start babbling about anything. Instead, I take a second to pull my gaze away from Maverick and look out my window.
Rows of trees line either side of the road so thick, I can’t see anything beyond them. The fall foliage is at its absolute peak now, and I pull my camera from my backpack, pointing it out the window to get the shot.
Maverick reaches over, pulling out another gummy worm, and I swat his hand away. He sticks the candy between his teeth with a shit-eating grin, and I’m compelled to lift the camera, snapping a photo of him.
“You know, I bet every girl back in Linden Creek is jealous of me right now,” I say, leaning my head back, looking at him.
“Yeah?” He glances over at me. “Because of the gourmet snacks you packed?”
“Because I’m alone in a car on my way to spend a long weekend with you.”
His lips pull up, and for the first time one of his forced smiles is aimed at me. I take note that anytime I mentioned a relationship to him, his response is some variation of this. As far as I know, Maverick’s never had a girlfriend, so a broken heart or scorned lover likely isn’t the case.
“What’s the deal with the camera?” he asks, changing the subject.
I shrug, setting my print in the little dash cubby.
“I just like the way they look. Plus, every time I go home, I find myself flipping through old photo albums, and I always think, ‘I’m going to want physical photos to look back on one day,’ and then I always say I’m going to get them printed from my phone, but I never do. ”
“I found some at Creekside a little while ago. You got some good shots of Rosie.”
A small laugh slips from my mouth. “She’s an easy subject.”
“How long have you been visiting her?”
“About a year. I started volunteering for a class, like you, but Rosie showed up at the end of my time, and I just kind of bonded with her. So, even though my volunteer hours were met, I continued going to visit her.”
“That’s nice of you. Willie was telling me her family doesn’t visit often.”
“Willie, huh? Have you two sparked up a little bromance?” I turn in my seat, fully facing him now.
“I mean, we chat.” He waves a hand around in front of him. “But we’re not besties or anything.”
“Mhmm.” I smile around a bite of my gummy worm before handing one to him. “To answer your question, she has family, but they live out of state, and I just can’t help but think, if she were my grandma, I’d want to know she had some company.”
Maverick makes a sound, and when I look at him, he’s shaking his head with a smile on his face.
“What?”
“You’re just so…good.” The skin around his knuckles tightens as he grips the steering wheel.
I glance over at him and see someone who's learned to live with being misunderstood.
And maybe that's what gets me. We’re doing the same things, but he sees something good in me without question, and it makes me wonder if he ever lets the noise get to him.
If the version of himself the world insists on seeing ever clouds what he knows to be true.