Chapter 28 Chloe
chloe
There’s a bite to the late fall air tonight.
“You alright there, Shifty McGee?”
I pause, not having realized how much I was actually moving around and look over at Savannah.
“I’m good. I probably shouldn’t have worn a tank top and jeans when it’s supposed to drop to forty degrees tonight, though.
” I try to rub my goosebumps away, but I know they have less to do with the temperature and more to do with the uncomfortable feelings I’ve been flooded with since last night.
It’s like I’m hot on the inside, my hands are clammy, but my skin is covered in goosebumps.
“How are…things?”
By things I can only assume she’s referring to Maverick, and considering he did a full one-eighty on me the other day, I can only think of one way to describe it.
“Things are…weird.”
It’s dark in Savannah’s car as she drives us down the tree lined back road, but I can still make out the way her lips pull up.
“Weird because you’re pretending to date someone that you don’t like, or weird because you’re pretending to date someone that maybe you do like?”
Weird because as much as I try to deny it, I do have feelings for Maverick.
I love being around him, I love how easy it is, and how I don’t constantly feel like I need to perform or prove myself.
Even when we’re apart, he’s in my head. But everything's blurry now, and as confident as I was that this wasn’t a one-sided thing, now I’m not so sure.
“I…I don’t know.”
“Do you still have feelings for Nathan?”
Nathan. The thing is, I used to think about Nathan twenty-four seven.
I lived every day waiting for the weekends, just for there to be a party that we could happen to run into each other at.
There were days when I knew he hooked up with someone else, and I would be gutted, and I would claim that was it, that I was done with him.
I wouldn’t text him, and it felt like we were playing this weird standoff game just waiting for the other person to reach out.
I was always the one to cave by the end of the day, but looking back on it now, I wouldn’t be surprised if that was another thing that was one-sided.
“I want to say no,” I say, honestly. “But I’ve said that before, and I was wrong.”
“I don’t think you were wrong, I just think maybe you weren’t ready to give up on it yet.”
The funny thing is, I’ve never felt more ready to give up on it, only to be thrown into something messier.
Car after car lines the street that leads down to the only house at the end of the road, and I wonder where Savannah thinks she’s going to park, until we pull up to the oversized driveway and I get my answer.
“Do you mind?” She smiles over her shoulder at me, and I get out of the car.
On the left of the driveway sits a black Range Rover. On the far right, is Maverick’s 4Runner. And in the middle is an orange cone with a piece of paper taped to it. Neat Sharpie writing covers the page:
RESERVED FOR SASSAFRAS AND CHLOE BABY.
I drag the cone off to the side as Savannah pulls in, and it might have been her boyfriend’s idea, but it was definitely my fake boyfriend who wrote that.
The front door is wide open, and after squeezing our way past all the people on the front porch, I can see why. The boys’ house looks like a scene from Neighbors.
“Shot?” Someone I don’t know hands me a clear cup with two inches of neon orange liquid at the bottom. I take it with a smile but quickly discard it on the kitchen counter.
The entire house hums under black light, and everyone is cast in neon and glowing paint. Everyone besides Savannah who is a shadow in head to toe black as she begins pouring drinks.
“Pretty sure your bra needs to sign a consent form to be in here.”
I look down at my bright white tank top, only to be assaulted by my now bright pink bra glowing through.
“Silas doesn’t scream black light party guy to me,” I say, taking the colorful solo cup she offers me.
“Speak of the devil!” Savannah smiles when Silas squeezes his way through a wall of people.
“Sav.” He nods with a grin before turning to me. “Chlo.”
“Happy birthday, Si.” Savannah reaches out and he pulls her in for a hug.
“Do you know literally anyone here?” she asks him.
Silas’s lip quirks and his hair falls in his face when he shakes his head. “The boys were feeling some kind of way about this being the last birthday party,” he says, reaching for a bottle and a plastic cup.
“The last birthday party sounds a little morbid,” Savannah responds and takes a sip of her solo cup.
“Yeah. I think it’s because it’ll probably be the last one we get to do together with Noah and Mav off to Toronto next year.”
A lump forms in my throat at the mention of Maverick leaving next year.
Not that the thought should have any effect on me whatsoever.
I have no idea what I’m doing next year, let alone why I’m even entertaining these thoughts when we’re staging a breakup in a couple weeks anyway.
I take a sip of my drink, wincing when I remember Savannah’s heavy hand.
“I’m going to go find Noah,” Savannah yells to me over the music.
“Good luck. Send out a flair signal if you get lost.”
“Please. If I know Noah, he’s up on his balcony waiting for me.” She throws a wink over her shoulder as she heads toward the stairs.
Silas huffs a laugh while leaning back against the kitchen counter and bringing his drink up to his lips.
“Have you found Mav yet?”
“I—” My heart lurches to my throat and gets stuck there when my gaze lands on a shirtless Maverick.
His muscular body is covered in glow-in-the-dark paint splotches and two lip prints on the planes of his chest, just above his nipples.
He lifts both arms, high fiving some guys when he sinks his little plastic ball in his opponents cup.
A girl with long beautiful curls stands beside him, taking a sip of her drink while leaning in for a side hug.
I shake my head, pulling my gaze away and looking down at the liquid in my cup, either to avoid eye contact or searching for courage, I’m not sure. “Uh, no. No, I haven’t seen him yet.”
“Well, I know he’s around,” he says, twisting over his shoulder, likely looking for the man in question.
“Yeah.” I nod my head, looking in any direction but the one I know Maverick’s standing in. “I’ll find him, eventually.”
Silas pushes off the counter, taking his drink with him. “Hey, Chlo?”
Our eyes meet, and for a moment, he seems like he’s going to say something else, but then his lips just form a line like he’s holding something back. “Don’t hurt him.” He ducks his head and gets sucked into a swarm of people, and I’m left standing dumbstruck with my too strong drink.
It shakes me that Silas of all people, one of Maverick’s best friends, thinks I’m capable of hurting him and not the other way around.
The mob that was filling the front porch and the rest of the house has made its way into the kitchen. When a man in an astronaut helmet passes a bong to a girl dressed in nothing but a tiny white bikini, I throw back the contents of my drink and push past the crowd.
The mix of the glow in the neon colors and the strobe lights has me reaching out to the walls for balance. That and I just threw back at least three shots in one gulp.
My finger tips hit something that resembles wood, and it’s a risk, but I lean my whole body into it, hoping it will hold me up.
It does, but only for a second. One moment, my eyes are closed, trying to breathe through my nose, the next, an embarrassing yelp leaves me and my eyes couldn’t be wider as I fall through the door.
Warm, strong hands grip my bare shoulders, and once I get my bearings, I find myself in a quiet bedroom, being held up by Maverick.
“I got you something.”
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out as I stare at him. He waits until I’m standing on my own before slowly releasing me, tucking a hand behind his back, and then bringing it forward again to my neck.
The room smells like him, warm and familiar and bathed in moonlight. Then something starts glowing softly against my skin. His fingers clasp the glow necklace at the nape of my neck, and I trail my hand over the plastic resting at my collar bones.
“It was like a fight for a knife in the mud to get you the last pink one. But once I saw it, I knew it had to be yours,” he says, with a proud smile. “It looks good with your others.”
He leans against his dresser, his eyes trailing my body and a familiar shiver racks my spine. I swallow, trying to catch my breath and make sense of his change in demeanor.
“Hey, I’ve got a game tomorrow, but after, I thought I could come over and help you prepare for your interview.”
I glance up at him and my chest stutters. The way he’s looking at me makes it impossible to look away. His jaw is set, his eyes are dark, and there’s a quiet intensity that makes my heart hammer in my ribs.
I ignore the fluttering behind my rib cage that comes from the fact that he remembered.
Maybe I read things wrong yesterday. It wouldn’t be the first time.
I’ve always been sensitive, prone to overthinking, prone to overreacting.
But the longer he holds my gaze, the more I feel seen.
Every careful intention I had of keeping my distance tonight melts away under his gaze.
I take a step closer and he doesn't move. Paint smears beneath my fingers as I trail them across his chest and up to the back of his neck. The faint scrape of his short hairs prickle against my palm and I lean in further, holding onto my courage like a fragile flame.
I prop up on my toes, and with the lightest pressure of my hand, guide him closer to me.
His breath tangles with mine, and it’s a feeling better than any high.
It’s the only thing I’ve been craving since the first time he kissed me.
The music that was once too loud to hear myself think, now fades to nothing as his fingers find my hip, brushing lightly at the bare strip of skin just above my jeans.
His thumb takes a slow sweep over my hip bone, causing my nipples to pebble, and I feel his touch down my spine and between my legs.
I close my eyes, wet my bottom lip, and I hear his quiet pull of air between his teeth.
We’re close enough now that all I have to do is tilt my chin just a fraction of an inch.
“Wait,” he whispers.
Immediately, I’m on the whole of my foot again, stepping back and covering my lips.
This is the worst fucking case of déjà vu.
I watch in mortification when he squeezes his eyes shut, and drags his fingers over his head, but I don’t wait a second longer before turning on my heel and reaching for the door knob.
“Chloe, wait.” His hand finds the crook of my elbow with ease, spinning me so my back hits the door. It’s not hard, but it’s just enough to make me aware of every inch of him.
“I don’t want to do this just because you’ve had too much to drink, and you think you want this.”
“I’ve had one drink,” I say.
His eyes narrow on me and I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing it was a loaded drink.
“You don’t want to do this because you don’t want to,” I say, steady, even though my pulse has gone rouge. “It has nothing to do with how much I have or haven't had to drink. So, do me a favor, and stop playing mind games with me.”
“Mind games?”
“Yeah,” I continue, ignoring the crease between his brow. “One minute you're hot and touching me, looking at me like…”
I pause because he’s doing it again. Pinning me with that gaze that roots me to the spot.
“And the next minute, you’re cold, letting me make an ass out of myself and inviting me here because of Nathan.”
I watch him carefully, and the smirk that never fades actually falters.
“So…” I tilt my chin slightly, attempting to appear bolder than I actually feel. “My bad, for getting our signals mixed, it won’t happen again, but stop playing with me.”
He blinks, biting down on his lip, but I swear there’s a tiny hint of a smile he’s trying to hide. And when his eyes find mine again, I see a flicker of something like pride in them. He places a hand on the door above my head, and those eyes darken as he leans in, hovering just before my face.
“If the signals were mixed, it's because I’ve been having a hard time remembering the rules.”
Just as quickly as he put it there, he drops his arm, giving me the space I need to breathe after his words leave me near breathless.
“And I’m not letting you make an ass of yourself. But kissing you to make Nathan jealous almost killed me.” His gaze drops to my lips for a split second. “And the next time I kiss your lips, I don’t want you blaming anything other than your own fucking desire.”