Chapter Forty-Two Keely #2
She ran through his schedule in her head as she sprinted—a modest jog, really—to the track. It was the first place she knew to look for him, especially if he was practicing for regionals. Which he should, because she didn’t give up the scholarship for him to squander his shot at his own dreams.
To her relief, the visitor’s gate was unlocked, the track populated. Sweat stuck her shirt to her torso; her hair clip bobbed and pinched at her hair.
But none of that mattered, because he was right there.
Max.
He was bent over, adjusting his shoe. His unitard, not the one she’d stolen and shrunk, pulled taut over his delicious muscles. His skin had developed a natural tan now that the days were longer. He needed a haircut. Needed nine hours of sleep and a giant hug.
And he needed to not look at her like that, because she had Things to Say.
I’m in love with you, she thought.
“I hate running!” she yelled instead.
It bounced back at her, and she heard her desperation in the echo.
Oh well. Might as well go for broke.
Max’s head cocked to the side as he threw a glance at Nolan. “Good to know.”
She closed the distance. Her thighs burned, but it was nothing compared to what her heart was doing right now. God, she’d missed him.
“You,” she wheezed, shoving the essay into his chest. “Why would you do this?”
He didn’t look away, even though Keely was pretty sure the staple was digging into his nipple. His throat bobbed. Jaw tensed.
“Because you needed to win, Keely.” His eyes were bright as they stared straight into Keely’s soul. “I needed you to win.”
He wasn’t supposed to say that. And he definitely wasn’t supposed to look so devastating while he did it. His hand came up, holding the paper, holding her, in place directly over his heart.
“Well.” She inhaled. Held it. Let it out in a single, slow gust. “I needed you to win more.”
“Since when?” Max licked his lips, his brow slashed across his forehead as he stared down at her.
She shook her head as she spoke her new core truth. “Since I fell in love with you.”
Max gawked at her, and his hand slipped off her wrist, falling limply back to his side. She missed him instantly, the feeling that she was safe. Anchored.
“I. . .” He chuckled under his breath, stared at their feet mere inches apart. Then he looked up at her from beneath his lashes, and Keely witnessed alchemy in real time as his eyes turned to gold. “Was this on your checklist?”
Her checklist? What was that supposed to mean? Confused, she shook her head. “What are you—”
“Was it on your checklist,” he repeated, drawing out the words until Keely’s hope hung on each and every one, “to make me fall in love with you back?”
Her throat closed. “No,” she whispered.
“Shame.” The gold from his eyes melted over her skin, turning the moment languid and viscous. Malleable. They could make this whatever they wanted. “You could have crossed it off.”
A surprised laugh escaped her lips, but she couldn’t stop it.
Max rested his hand on her hips, fingers digging in to keep her still. As if she wanted to be anywhere else. “I love you,” he said again, but firmer, in different words. “And I’m so sorry for what I said to you, Key. If I could go back. . .”
She shook her head, then let it fall to his chest. “The things I said to you were equally as terrible.”
“They were true, though. What I said was not. Being nice isn’t a character flaw.
It’s one of the reasons I fell for you. Seeing you give so much to others and still have some leftover for yourself.
For someone like me, no less.” He hummed softly, deep in his chest. She felt it everywhere.
“I’m working on being more like that. So I don’t make any more mistakes. ”
“Mistakes aren’t so bad,” Keely said. Over Max’s shoulder, Nolan and the other track members watched them.
“I make them all the time.” She reached up, smoothing over the harsh lines of his jaw.
Let her hand trail down, ghost over the vein in his neck, throbbing wildly beneath her touch.
She came to rest over his heart again. “But loving you is not one of them.”
His chin dipped once, a deep nod that nearly touched his chest. The corner of his mouth tilted up. “No?”
Her heart was suspended in her throat. Her backpack slid off her shoulder, and she let go of her essay. It fluttered to the ground. “Loving you feels like first place.”
Max’s tongue darted out, and his lips spread in a slow smile. “And loving you feels like the biggest trophy at the science fair.”
“They actually gave us ribbons,” she murmured. Now was probably not the time to be correcting him, but she couldn’t change who she was. Not completely.
“The brightest, bluest, biggest ribbon, then.” He stepped forward, then she did, and each of their toes was on a corner of the paper. “Loving you is. . . it’s peace, I think. And it’s trouble. And it’s fun, and maddening, and. . .”
He let out a small laugh under his breath, and his hand came up to brush her cheekbone. “Loving you is everything, Keely.”
“Max,” she murmured.
His other palm slid around her waist to span her lower back. “Have any hypotheses up there in that big brain of yours that predict what we’re supposed to do now?”
“I think,” Keely said, her gaze trained on his mouth, “we start with a kiss. We might need to do it a few times, though. To prove it. For science.”
“For science.” He nodded, brows furrowed in concentration. In understanding.
Max grinned, scooping her up until only her toes skimmed the track he loved.
This time, when he kissed her, she didn’t know. She didn’t know what tomorrow would look like, what their future held. Where she’d end up.
But she knew Max, his body pressed in strong lines against her. His hands, tangling in the hair at the back of her head. His smile, and his smell, and his heart.
“You won the scholarship.” He pulled back, then surged forward again like he couldn’t quite help himself. And he kissed and kissed and kissed her. Hot, searing brands of his mouth and hands. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I didn’t,” she said as her toes touched the asphalt again.
Max’s head tilted, an errant curl popping down over his forehead. “What do you mean?”
Keely shifted her weight. The essay ripped beneath her sole. “I didn’t accept.”
Max tilted his head. “And why the hell not, Key?”
She beamed. “I—I want to be a teacher.” It was still scary as hell to admit out loud, but easier with him.
It always had been. From the beginning, he’d seen the girl hiding behind the planner.
The fire under her blue-tipped fingers. “I applied for a teaching program. That’s the call you heard me take, why I was so secretive.
I couldn’t tell anyone about it because I was so terrified it wasn’t going to work. And it didn’t. I didn’t get in.”
Sadness discolored his features, and she didn’t want that look on his face. Not now, not ever.
“But I talked to my parents. Told them everything. We’re still figuring some things out, but I’ll apply again next year. And when the time is right, I’ll have my own classroom full of kids to teach science to.”
“That’s perfect for you, Key.” He blinked hard. Color crept up from his neck, climbed his throat like ivy. “And the scholarship?”
“I heard it deferred to the runner up. Which. . .” She trailed off, trying and failing not to smile. “I guess you haven’t checked your email this morning, what with all this hard work you’re doing.” She patted his sternum.
Max’s eyes narrowed for a split second, then blew wide open. Same as his mouth, which let out a surprised, choked sound. “Keely. You didn’t.”
She surged up to kiss him again. She couldn’t help it.
“I told you. The best person was going to win, fair and square.”
He wound his arms around her waist, pulling her up so her toes grazed the ground. “God, you’re so smart. Tell me more.”
They leaned in for a kiss when Coach blew the whistle behind them. Keely shrieked, stumbling, but Max held steady.
He was so good at that.