20. Maggie

CHAPTER 20

MAGGIE

“So…what do I say?” I ask, Viv as I reach for my phone.

She smiles and hands it back to me. “How about…Yes, please, and thank you.”

We’re at Drip again because Viv needed a caffeine boost, and I needed a strategy session to deal with the texts JT has been sending.

Viv has her coffee, but I don’t have a plan. Or a clue.

“It’s not that simple,” I insist, hating the whiny sound of my voice.

Viv takes a bite of granola and shakes her head. “No, it is that simple. You’re complicating things.”

“Because they are complicated,” I say, stirring my hot chocolate until all the whipped cream has melted. I’m not even really in the mood for chocolate. Good Lord. What is JT doing to me?”

“Don’t you sigh at me, young lady,” Viv admonishes. She’s three whole months older than I am and she’s never let me forget it. “You left Theo’s like ten minutes after we got there. ”

“It was more like thirty,” I correct, but Viv just rolls her eyes.

“I didn’t even get to meet your mystery man or interrogate him. That’s how fast you were gone. And you went back to my place with the full intention of watching your favorite movie, but instead you had hot, messy sex all over my couch. You were in the best mood ever yesterday morning and now you’re spiraling. But that’s not necessary. He’s hot. You’re hot. The sex is hot. So have the sex. End of.”

I sigh internally, knowing she’s right, or at least she’s got a point. The perfect situationship has fallen into my lap, and I can’t ruin it by overthinking things.

Except that there are things to overthink.

Does JT want what I want? He seems to. He texted last night and again today.

I stare at my phone as though my penetrating gaze will change the words in front of me, or at least tell me how to respond.

JT : I’m probably supposed to wait it out or act all casual, but fuck that. Being with you again was every bit as good as the first time. Maybe even better, and I want to see you again. Are you busy tonight?

The letters just stare back at me, and there’s no answer in sight.

“Do it,” Viv says, standing and grabbing her bag. “We never say no to great sex, Maggie,” she tells me before blowing me a kiss. “I’m off to French. See you tonight…or not.” She winks at me before practically skipping out the door.

“You need anything, Maggie?” Theo asks, approaching the table Viv and I have been occupying.

“I’m good,” I assure Theo, and offer my thanks. I really should get going. Jules is out of town again, which means Uncle Hudson is out of sorts. He wants to meet for lunch, and I feel like I’ve been dodging him too much lately, so that’s why I said yes. I’m not hungry, but I can pick at a salad and listen while my uncle drones on about hockey.

Before that, though, I need to swing by the library to grab a study packet my Calc professor left for us.

The library is next to Drip, and my prof left explicit directions to the reference desk on the third floor. I’ve been here long enough that I’m learning my way around, so I wave to Josie in greeting as I approach the desk.

“Hey, Maggie,” she says warmly. “Are you here for the Calc packet?”

“How did you know?” I ask, returning her smile.

“Your name’s on it,” she says, her laugh light and sweet. “I figured that was a pretty solid clue.”

“You could give up this library job and start a detective agency,” I tease.

“Oh, no,” she says. “I get enough true crime at home. My sisters and brother are obsessed,” she tells me with a shake of her head.

“Isn’t your sister five?” I ask.

“Yep,” she nods. Before she can explain how a kindergartner even knows about true crime, a line begins to form behind me. I wave goodbye and glance at my watch. I have some time before my lunch with Uncle Hudson, so I may as well start working my way through this packet.

I see an empty chair across the room, but someone snags it before I make my way across the room. There’s a table that looks available, so I head in that direction and dump my stuff onto one of the chairs.

And that’s when I notice the table isn’t vacant. There’s a familiar blue backpack on the far end of the table, and I look up just in time to see JT approach.

“Maybe I should call you Goldilocks instead of Cinderella,” he says, a smile gracing his features.

“Maybe,” I answer absently, but it’s not my fault I’m not focused. It’s the fitted green tee he’s wearing. And the way his ass looks in his low-slung grey sweats. This is my answer. The attraction is there. He’s not an asshole. And he’s clearly up for more, so what’s the harm in giving this friends-with-benefits thing the green light?

Nothing. That’s what I tell myself. And yes, I sound like Viv when I say it. And if I’m terrified that I’ll fall in love with the man in front of me, only to be left lost and disillusioned later, well…no one’s luck is that bad, right?

“You having a good day?” he asks.

“Yeah, actually. It’s been good so far. You?”

He smiles, and it accentuates the fine layer of scruff on his jaw. “Yep. Got a B on my stats test and I just finished up a presentation for tomorrow. I’ve got class in a bit, but I’m free for a while. You want to sit?”

I nod, lifting my packet. “I have thirty pages of math problems to solve, so yeah, I can sit and study.”

“Am I crazy or do you actually sound excited about thirty pages of math problems?”

“Math gets such a bad rap!” I grumble, setting my packet on the table. “It might be thirty pages, but I think there are only six problems in total. Besides, math is just a puzzle, really. And puzzles are fun, right?”

He laughs, pulling out a chair for me and moving his bag to an empty spot. I’m about to congratulate myself on being smooth and flirty and not freaking out.

So, naturally, that’s when I freak out.

But it’s not my fault. “Why is there a BU Hockey hoodie on your chair?” I ask, my feet glued to the ground.

He looks at me like I’m the crazy one. “Because it’s mine,” he says plainly.

“You’re a fan?” I ask, hoping that he’s just a fan of thrifting. I cannot handle another hockey freak in my life.

Instead of agreeing with me, he just laughs. “I play for the team, so yeah, I guess I kinda have to be a fan. ”

His words don’t quite register at first. “You play for the team? Here ?”

“Yeah…I’m the goalie.”

“Of the hockey team?” I ask. I’m sure girls fawn all over him when he tells them that. But I don’t. “Oh my god.” The words come out as a croak.

“What? Is that a bad thing?” he asks, but his words are playful, like there couldn’t be anything wrong with playing hockey at Bainbridge.

My fingers are clumsy as I yank at the zipper on my bag and shove my Calc packet into it. “I don’t date athletes. And I definitely don’t date hockey players. Not that we’re dating. I know that, but… of fucking course…”

Poor JT. I almost feel bad for the guy. He looks genuinely perplexed. “I am definitely missing something here. Did you used to date a hockey player? And he turned out to be an asshole? Did your uncle get run over by a Zamboni or something?”

My uncle .

I can’t answer him. All I can stammer out is, “I…I’ve got to go.”

My feet carry me down the stairs and I refuse to let myself look back. A wave of dizziness washes over me, and I wish I’d had more to eat today. The few sips of cocoa I had are sitting heavily in my stomach.

Determinedly, I make my way across campus, despite how dizzy and gross I feel. It’s like there’s a stone weighing me down and making me stumble. But it’s not a stone. It’s guilt. And frustration. And oh my god, why does he have to be a hockey player? It fucking figures… the one guy I was considering breaking my rules for is a guy who’s completely off-limits. A bad idea, scratch that — the worst idea.