Chapter 20 #2
“Actually, I was furious with Ben. I knew I’d never see Liam again, and I didn’t care what his motive was.
He was a fun, charming, supercute guy who made me feel wanted.
And I was an eighteen-year-old virgin stuck in the middle of nowhere with a dance card collecting dust. I think I just wanted to scratch sex off my coming-of-age to-do list. Lose virginity, check.
But thanks to Ben, I’m now a twenty-four-year-old virgin. ”
Constance grimaces. “And thanks to me, you might stay that way.”
I tip over laughing, almost spilling my drink. “That is the sad truth.”
“Would you really have slept with Holden just to lose your virginity?”
I bite my cheek, searching for the right words.
“I won’t deny I’m ready to lose it, but…
” I shrug. “Something’s changed between us.
I feel like I can trust him, you know? Like we could have sex, and it would still mean something, just in a different way.
Even though we’re not in love. Even though, not so long ago, we could hardly stand each other.
Kissing him felt like filling a blank space I didn’t even know was there. ”
I sit up, hugging my knees to my chest. “I missed so much growing up—boys, dating, making out. Kissing Holden made me think maybe I could finally experience some of that. I know it makes me sound pathetic.”
“It does not make you sound pathetic,” Constance says. “It makes you sound human.”
I glance at my new-best-slash-ex-best friend.
“Until I met Holden, I didn’t realize how insignificant I felt.
How…invisible. I’ve been in a rut for so long, it’s just become who I am.
The girl who runs a B&B for her dead mother instead of doing what she really wants, which is write.
The girl whose only friends are her twin brother and the hostile rooster next door.
The girl who bared her soul to her hero only to have him humiliate her in front of… ” I trail off.
“In front of Holden?”
I nod. “I was so angry. You never want your enemies to see you down, right? But looking back, that wasn’t it at all.
Not once since I met Holden have I felt invisible.
” I glance down, the glass suddenly heavy in my hand.
“He saw what happened last night because he sees everything. It’s like…
” I let out a slow breath. “He actually sees me.”
“Huh,” Constance says, pulling her knees to her chest to match mine. Her pink-painted toes nudge my chipped blue ones, and it feels like déjà vu. “Maggie, are you sure you’re not in love with him?”
I cough through a sip of bourbon and set down the glass. “Whoa, there. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. He’s just…really easy to want. That’s all.”
“But the way you describe him? He doesn’t sound like someone who’d reject you. He sounds like someone who might have feelings for you.”
“I think you read too much Harlequin.”
“Beside the point.” Her smile lingers for a second, then slips away as she reaches for my hand. “The thing with your hero, were you talking about Graham Barrett?”
My throat tightens. “I met him last night, and it didn’t go well.”
“Damn, Maggie. That sucks. On your birthday? No wonder you didn’t want company.” She tilts her head, studying me. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I don’t bother telling her that I did have company.
“I really, really don’t.”
“Your call,” she says. “But if you change your mind…”
“Thanks.”
She waggles her brows. “Then let’s circle back to that kiss. I’m assuming there was tongue?”
“I think it’s time we talk about Wade.”
She grumbles, but before she can protest, my brother’s voice carries from the foyer. “Mags?”
“Living room,” I call back, then shoot a pointed look at my friend. “To be continued.”
Ben comes in, bag slung over his shoulder, hair a mess and eyes heavy from the drive.
“You’re home early,” I say. “Everything okay with Zack?”
“Yeah…fine, but…” He jerks a thumb at the door. “Are you aware there’s a guy in the carriage house playing guitar?”
Constance perks up, her grin stretching clear across her face. “That would be Holden Shaw,” she says with a glance toward the window. “What’s he playing?”
I huff a laugh. Twenty bucks it’s “Bluest Eyes in Texas.”
“Um, no.” Ben’s smile spreads slow and wide. “Try ‘Maggie May.’”
Lucky for me, Ben’s too tired to grill me on this latest development.
Which is fine, since I need to process it myself.
Constance must’ve sensed that too, because when I come back from the kitchen after clearing our plates and loading last night’s dishes, I find her asleep on the sofa.
I grab a blanket from the basket by the fireplace and cover her up.
Then I head straight for my room, crack open the window nearest the carriage house, and listen.
The music filtering inside is muffled, just a thread of sound on the breeze. I wish I could turn it up, but even at this volume, there’s no mistaking it. Ben wasn’t wrong. It’s definitely “Maggie May.”
The thing is, it’s the only song he’s playing—like he’s determined to perfect it. And though I might be biased, it sounds pretty perfect already.
The bourbon’s humming in my veins, making everything feel a little hazy, a little hopeful. I could be reading too much into it, but if he’s trying this hard to get it right…maybe tonight meant more to him than I thought.
Could he have feelings for me?
I still haven’t gotten that shower, and there’s no way I’m getting one now.
I don’t want to miss a second of this private concert.
So instead, I strip down to Holden’s UCLA sweatshirt and climb into bed, visions of starlit dances, late-night swims, and stolen kisses looping through my mind as the soft strumming of his guitar lulls me to sleep.