Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MAEVE
There’s a tension between us, I can feel it.
It was so thick in the air last night when we looked at each other from our separate beds, I thought for sure there wasn’t a chance that he couldn’t feel it.
It was heavy, prominent, passing through our stalling gaze before we said goodnight.
It was like I could feel his eyes burning into me, staying on me longer than they ever had before.
There was even a heaviness to my chest before I broke the invisible tether, one that felt foreign to me, and that…
Well, it scares the shit out of me.
Because that can’t happen. That feeling of fuck it.
That feeling of wanting Tatum’s hands on me in a way that isn’t friendly at all.
I can’t be his first anything. Not me. Not the damaged girl who has panic attacks over stupid shit and loads of emotional trauma that she doesn’t know what to do with.
I’m not good enough to be his first. He deserves someone who isn’t tainted already.
Someone who is whole, healed. I don’t know if I’ll ever be fully healed again.
I sigh heavily as I stare out of the window. Thankfully, Phoenix hasn’t gotten any snow, but it’s still rather chilly. The weather gets more and more like home the closer we get.
“Everything okay?” Tate asks quietly, and I realize how loud I must’ve been huffing over here in the passenger seat.
“Have you ever almost kissed anyone?” I ask.
Jesus Christ, Maeve.
“N-no,” he says.
“At all?”
It’s quiet for a moment, and now I feel like a complete ass for even asking.
“No.”
“Have you ever wanted to?”
He hesitates. “Yes.”
I snort at that, swallowing down the fact that it makes my stomach do a weird, jealous flip. “Really? Well, why don’t you just kiss her then?”
He laughs weakly, shaking his head. “I couldn’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not… I don’t…” He sighs. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“So, that’s what is holding you back?”
Tate swallows thickly, almost gulping. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
Peeking over at him, I notice the way he’s tapping his fingers against his thigh in quick succession, as if he’s nervous. He must notice too because he flexes his fingers before reaching up to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, trying to busy his hand.
“And there’s a girl?” I continue. “That you want to kiss?”
“Yes.”
It was just me, then. The tension. The longing gaze.
Holy shit, he probably thought I was staring at him like some freak.
Like it could get any worse. But this is what I wanted, right?
This was better; he had a girl he wanted to kiss.
Problem solved. Now, I could get over whatever the hell was going on in my brain, all because I saw him shirtless.
This is how it needs to be. This is good.
But apparently not, because it’s all I can think about in silence for the rest of the ride.
Why am I jealous over a girl I don’t even know?
I have no clue what she looks like or what her name is.
All I know is that I feel this rush of heat under my skin at the thought of Tate wanting to kiss a girl.
A girl that’s not me, and that means I’ve officially lost it.
I need to get laid, that must be it. It’s not that serious. I just need…release. That’s all. That’s what I’m chalking it up to.
Until we get checked into our hotel, finally done driving for the day, and walk into our room—where my stupid, stupid mouth opens the second I drop my bags to the floor.
“I could help you.”
My stomach churns at the fact that I’ve said that out loud, and I quickly face away from him as I tiptoe toward the bed, plopping down on the mattress and hoping I somehow sink into it for eternity.
He blinks at me, and I can slowly see him trying to piece together my words. “Help me…”
I’m insane, like actually clinically insane.
Oh my God.
“Um, kissing. I could help you with kissing.”
I watch him gulp, and… Should I make a run for it? Just dart out of the room and out of sight, forever? I could run away, change my name, and get an entirely new identity. Yeah, that sounds really good right about now.
“‘Cause we’re comfortable together, right?” I shrug, even though I’m dying inside. “It’d just be a friend helping a friend. So you can finally kiss the girl.”
His lips part as he looks at me like he might be dreaming, and hell, I wish he were. I wish I had never opened my mouth. “I, uh…”
“Oh my God.” I laugh awkwardly, scratching the back of my neck as I stand. “That’s completely insane. I’m insane. Ignore me.”
And before he can respond, before he can even react, I’m darting into the bathroom and closing the door behind me like he’s going to be chasing after me or something.
If there was a window in here, I’d sneak out of it, but I’m trapped.
Trapped with my own mistakes and dumb decisions. There’s no running away now.
What the hell am I doing?
I wait for the embarrassed flush of my cheeks to subside before I finally leave the bathroom, daring to sneak a glance over at Tate, who is sitting on my bed.
My brows raise faintly as I approach him, my fingers toying together in front of me.
His knee bounces anxiously as he peeks up at me through his glasses.
“Okay,” he says.
“Okay?”
“We can… You can…” he rasps, “help me.”
My knees practically wobble at his words, not what I was expecting at all, so I hurry to sit on the bed before I can embarrass myself even more.
Pulling one leg up, I twist to face him, my brows furrowing as I blink at him for a second, trying to study his features for signs of amusement. When I don’t see any, I lick my lips.
“Tate, we don’t have to do that,” I tell him in almost a whisper. “I don’t know what I was thin—”
“I want you to,” he interrupts me, chewing at the inside of his lip as he struggles to maintain eye contact. “I…I don’t know how to… I need you to show me.”
The flip that my stomach does inside me halts the air in my lungs for a moment before I can inhale properly. This isn’t good, I take it back. The red flags are waving in my brain, but I’m not very good at making the right decisions these days, am I?
“Okay,” I say.
“O-okay.”
I watch his throat bob as he swallows, and for the first time in a long time, I feel nervous.
My heart pumps harshly in my chest, but I try to ignore it as I reach up hesitantly to gently take his glasses off, setting them beside me on the bed.
His dark eyes follow my hands, careful not to meet mine, but his nostrils flare faintly like he’s trying to breathe properly.
“So, you should always cradle the head,” I whisper, placing my palms on both sides of his face, and I feel his jaw clench. “Girls love that sort of thing.”
Girls? Or me?
He hums, but it falters.
His skin is soft against my hands, and as I pull him a smidge closer, his wide eyes finally lift to meet mine. His blinks are slow and lazy, and—this is just to teach him. Nothing more. I can’t think about anything else. It’s practice. For the other girl he wants to kiss.
“And then you just kinda…” I trail off, leaning forward and pressing my lips against his. They’re so soft and pliable under mine, his movements gentle as he tries to keep up with my pace. My hand slides around to the back of his neck, tugging at the hair there and pulling him further into my lips.
My heart stutters and my skin pricks with goosebumps at the very tiny sound that emits in the back of his throat.
Pull away. Pull away. Fucking pull away.
The heat pooling under my skin doesn’t make this feel like a practice kiss at all. I’m taking this man’s first kiss, like first ever, and I have to stop now if I don’t want to look like a complete smitten fool. Before the heat dives between my legs and I—
Breaking the kiss, my eyes flash open to see that his are still closed, his chest heaving as he takes it in.
“Not bad for a practice first kiss.”
His cheeks flush a pink color as he opens his eyes, his lips still parted as he breathes shakily through them.
Ignore that.
“Feel better?” I ask, trying to steady my voice.
“Um…I think?”
I laugh airily as I drop my hands, scooting backward on the bed and handing him his glasses, watching as he puts them back on.
“Are you sure it was okay?” he asks, his hands rubbing on his jeans as he speaks.
“Yes,” I say, reaching to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Be confident. You have nothing to worry about.”
But I most certainly do, based on how that kiss just made me feel.
Shit.