Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
TATUM
Waking up this morning with Maeve wrapped in my arms for the second time is different from the first. This time, she’s so entangled with me, like I don’t know where I start and where she ends.
Even her legs are intertwined with mine.
She snores softly, her cheek pressed up against my chest in a way that has her face all smushed, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more adorable in my life.
She’s perfect.
Last night was perfect.
I think I like her so much that the oxygen has a hard time squeezing into my lungs just thinking about it. I like her so much that my chest feels full. Full of overwhelming, heavy feelings for her that bring a smile to my face. I see her, and my heart swells, I swear it does.
My fingers brush her hair from her cheekbones very softly as I sit with my thoughts, studying her features as she stirs faintly from my touch. Her lashes flutter open weakly, her dark eyes squinting as they adjust to the light, blinking a couple of times before they’re meeting mine.
Her pupils dilate as she looks at me, and I think I might die.
It could be from anything, at least, I try to tell myself that.
But I also know that your pupils dilate as a physiological response linked to the release of hormones associated with attraction and pleasure.
The body releases oxytocin and dopamine when you see someone you like or love.
I know that, and for some reason, my brain still tries to talk me out of it. Make other excuses for it.
Her eyes are just still adjusting, is all.
She goes to speak, but then she covers her mouth to mumble against her hand. “Oop. Morning breath.”
Maeve goes to pull away, but I tighten my arm around her, my lips tugging in the corners as I watch her squirm teasingly.
“I’ll hold my breath,” I joke, and she swats at my chest with a snort.
The sound of her laughter as she gets out of bed to hurry to the bathroom makes me laugh.
I prop my arm behind my head as I lay there, watching as she brushes her teeth in front of the mirror, hair messy from sleeping and clothes in a disarray from being wrapped up with me.
I must be staring too long, because she turns her head and meets my gaze with a sheepish grin.
Walking to the doorframe, she props up against it with her toothbrush in her mouth.
“Do you wanna do the walk of shame to go grab your toothbrush? Or…do you wanna use mine?” she mumbles around the brush.
“Sharing toothbrushes spreads bacteria and viruses,” I blurt. “Gum disease, cavities, cold sores… I’m not saying you h-have any of those things, of course—”
“Walk of shame, it is,” she says, going back to the sink.
I’m laughing again as I get up, reaching for something to slip on when I realize she’s wearing my hoodie still.
Instead, I slide my pants back on and slip out into the hallway to dart across to my room before anyone can see me standing out here shirtless.
That’s not something I want to have to explain.
As I’m brushing my teeth, I’m gathering up my toiletries and throwing them back in the bag for the road trip back home before finding some fresh clothes to wear for the drive later.
Once I’m ready enough and all my stuff is thrown back into my suitcase, I open the door to go back to Maeve’s room, almost having a stroke when I practically slam into Maverick in my rushed state.
“Whoa,” Maverick says, “Slow down, speedracer.”
“Sorry,” I rush out.
“It’s a little early, don’t you think?”
I swallow. “Early?”
“To be going to my sister’s room.”
Think fast. Think fast. Think fast.
“She wanted me to wake her early,” I say, nodding like that’ll convince him somehow. “We have to hit the road.”
His dark eyes look me up and down meticulously, and he’s a breath away from saying something until Maeve’s bedroom door flies open.
We both turn to look at her, and she must read the situation immediately, because she wraps her fingers around my wrist, tugging me into her room as she gives Maverick a pointed look.
“Go away, Mav.”
Maverick raises a brow. “Ouch.”
She sticks her tongue out at him, wrapping both hands around my arm and tugging me further inside her room before I can even manage to throw him an apologetic smile. She closes the door behind us, pressing her back against it before peeking up at me.
“Sorry.” She sighs.
I tilt my head down at her, shooting her a knowing look.
She apologizes enough for every person on this planet, but she knows she doesn’t ever have to apologize to me.
It’s like it’s instinctual, at this point.
A knee-jerk response so deeply rooted inside her that she doesn’t even know it’s going to come out until it does.
“Sorry,” she repeats, squinting as she winces playfully. “Jeez, I am really bad about that, huh?”
“Just a little.”
A light snicker leaves her lips as she walks over to her suitcase, throwing more of her stuff inside and zipping it up before turning back to me.
“How are you…feeling?”
I know what she’s referring to, and I can sense a feeling of doubt there.
My first reaction is to worry that she’s doubting whether or not it should’ve happened, but based on the anxious crease forming in her forehead as she looks at me, I know it’s the opposite. I have to keep from smiling at that.
“I feel…good,” I say. “How do you feel?”
“Good,” she agrees.
“Good.”
Her frown lines disappear as smile lines take their place, her lips turning up into a relieved grin. It only lasts for a second before she’s wrapping her arms around herself, another wave of doubt rolling through. I’d give anything to be in that brain of hers.
“You don’t…” she pauses, scratching her nose nervously, “regret anything?”
I shake my head, making sure I keep eye contact with her, letting her know I’m telling her the truth. “Do…you?”
“No.”
Her voice is small, and it almost sounds like her response comes out as a question rather than an answer. There’s something else she’s unsure about, and I need to know what it is.
“It sounds like there’s a ‘but’ coming.”
She shakes her head quickly, stepping toward me with her hand stretched out toward me, but she pulls it back again before it can land on my arm. “No. I just… I was worried you’d wake up this morning and feel like it was a mistake.”
Ouch.
That hurts to hear. Not because of me, but because she’s so inclined to think that way. Her first reaction to…what happened last night is to think that somehow, I regretted all of it. It hurts to know that she thinks everyone will always regret her. I could never regret her.
I don’t know what to say for a moment; I’m so terrible with words, and I don’t want her to interpret what I’m saying the wrong way, but I don’t want to hesitate long enough to make her think that what she’s saying is true to how I feel.
Words just aren’t coming to me; my brain is empty.
So, finally, after almost too long, I decide to do something else entirely.
I shakily reach both of my hands up to cup her face, pulling her to me as I press my lips to hers.
She doesn’t breathe for a moment, she doesn’t even move; it takes her brain a second to catch up as I kiss her slow and steady.
It’s like I can hear the cogs clicking into place in her mind as her hands grasp onto my wrists, and she pushes up to her toes to deepen the kiss.
She tastes of mint and vanilla, and I savor it a bit before pulling away, still holding her face in my hands as I look down at her. I want her to hear me, I want her to see that I’m serious about what I’m about to say.
“I don’t regret anything,” I whisper.
“You don’t?” she squeaks.
Shaking my head, I rub my thumbs along her cheekbones. Her eyes flicker between mine and my lips, like she’s thinking about what to say or do, before her hands slide down from my wrists, dropping to her sides.
“But you might,” she breathes, trying to pull her head from my grasp to stare down at the floor, but I hold her steady, “later on down the road. Maybe you’ll realize that I was a mistake.”
“Maeve…” I rasp, my head shaking back and forth tentatively as I try to gather the words to tell her what I feel in my chest. My mind. “You’re not a mistake. Not to me.”
“I’m always a mistake.” She tries to laugh off the comment, but it falters when she realizes that I don’t think it’s funny.
“The l-longer you keep…feeling this way about yourself because of him,” I whisper, pausing as I gulp, “the longer he will have this power over you. From where I stand, I-I…I don’t think he really knew you at all.”
This time, she does pull away from my grasp. Her eyebrows are drawn so close together, I’m terrified I’ve said the wrong thing.
“I didn’t mean it li—”
“And you think that you do?”
I blink down at her, immediately regretting ever saying anything. I should’ve kept my mouth shut like I normally would have.
“I know you enough to know that…none of the things you say about yourself are true.” My hands fidget nervously by my sides as I speak. “Things that he had to have planted in your head. Someone like that… They don’t love you. Someone who loves you would never do that to you.”
Foot, insert in mouth, again.
“And what do you know about love?” she croaks, narrowing her eyes weakly up at me. “Hmm? Statistics? There’s more to it than facts and knowledge, Tate.”
“Okay.”
That’s all I can say, because I’m scared I’m going to dig my grave so deep, I won’t be able to crawl back out again.
The angry scowl on her face quickly softens into a more somber frown as she peers up at me, her shoulders sagging as she takes a deep breath and drags a hand down her face.
“I’m sorry.”
Shaking my head, I say, “No. I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have—”
“No,” she interrupts swiftly, stepping toward me hesitantly. “I overstepped saying that to you. It was mean, and I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”