24. Maggie

CHAPTER 24

MAGGIE

Leaning my head back against the couch cushion, I close my eyes just for a second. Taking a nap right now, even for just ten minutes, would be heavenly. But I’m here to study, not to sleep. Or to think about JT and the fun we had in the storage closet yesterday. Or even how nice it was to study with him yesterday on this very couch.

And no, I did not choose this spot today because I know he likes it and that sometimes he studies here after his Stats class.

Of course, I didn’t.

I picked it because the light is very good here.

And the library is open to all BU students.

I can use it whenever I want to.

It’s sort of become my second home, to be honest. Third, if you count Viv’s place. Uncle Hudson’s house is beautiful, but I just don’t have the bandwidth right now to remember all his rules. I swear these exams are sucking up my brain cells. I was cleaning up after dinner last night, and the trash was getting full, so I took the bag outside and put another one in the can when I came back in. Because that’s what you do, right? Twenty minutes after I was done in the kitchen, Uncle Hudson knocked on my bedroom door, opened it, and set four metal binder clips on my desk before turning and walking back out. I felt like pelting them at his head. First of all, binder-clipping your trash bag in place is a little intense, but the passive-aggressive way he silently delivered them to me? I nearly lost my mind.

I didn’t though. A temper tantrum would only prove his point that I’m erratic like my mother. And since he’s letting me live here, I have to abide by his rules no matter how ridiculous I think they are. Besides all that, Jules’s agent booked a few more talk shows for her, so she’s still out on the west coast, which means my uncle is extra grumpy.

So, yes, instead of having coffee in the kitchen with Uncle Hudson this morning, I escaped to the library for a study session. It’s a study session of one, but I’m getting a hand cramp from all the highlighting and note-taking, so it counts.

I stretch a little and decide I need a brain break. Setting the timer on my watch for ten minutes, I scroll blissfully through social media and let my mind wander. The stream of celebrity gossip, fashion trends, and makeup tutorials are exactly the audiovisual junk food I need right now.

I really don’t miss California, and Viv is a far superior best friend than Bella ever was, even before the incident. But this school year is kicking my ass in ways the previous years never did. I don’t know if Fairmont State was much more lax, or if Bainbridge is that much more competitive, but I’m finding it hard to keep up with the pace. The material is fine: numbers are pleasantly predictable. I wouldn’t say my classes are too challenging, but I definitely find it a challenge to stay awake for all of them.

It’s the exams I’m prepping for, I know. I’m pushing myself harder than I have to because I want to pass each of them on the first try. That will not only look good when I start job-hunting, but I think it will help me prove myself to Uncle Hudson. Maybe this will be the thing that shows him without a doubt I’m not my mother. I’m not irresponsible. I’m not doing drugs or sleeping with an entire band or leaving my baby in someone else’s care to follow said band across the country.

Who does that?

Oh, that’s right. My mother.

But not me. I’m in school. I’m thriving. Well, when I’m not dead-on-my-feet tired, I’m thriving.

Shouldn’t that count for something?

The timer on my watch buzzes. My break is over. It’s time for me to hit the books once again. But just as I crack open my Statistical Analysis text, I hear a laugh I know well. Turning, I see JT at a nearby table. I’m not sure how long he’s been there, but his laptop is on the table and his notes are spread out around it, so it’s safe to assume he didn’t just sit down.

I’m being ridiculous. I know that. But it bothers me that he didn’t come say hi, even though he really shouldn’t come and say hi. We aren’t supposed to know each other. We’re not friends, not really. We’re fuckbuddies who aren’t buddies.

I guess that just makes me a fuck.

Which sounds about right, because JT isn’t alone at the table.

And he’s not with one of his teammates, either, unless there’s a buxom blonde on my uncle’s roster that I don’t know about.

She’s beautiful, whoever she is. Her long hair is so light it’s nearly white, and she’s got curves that put mine to shame. Her hands are moving across her keyboard and JT is huddled up close. Their heads are nearly touching.

What the hell?

I mean, okay, we’re not really together. But we are exclusive, aren’t we? Isn’t that the deal? I swear that’s the deal. It’s my deal, anyway. We agreed that a relationship would never work between us, but that doesn’t mean I want to be one of the many busty blonde girls warming his bed .

Oh. My. God. They probably have sex in a real bed.

He probably doesn’t have to sneak around to be with Rapunzel over there. He’s not even sneaking right now! I am less than ten feet away and he hasn’t even noticed.

The stress I’ve been under means my emotions are always near the surface, just waiting to bubble over. Tears threaten as I stand and gather my things, shoving them into my bag with clumsy fingers. I’ll sort it all out later. Right now, I just need to get out of here before I confront him.

Or throw up.

Because it really could go either way.