Chapter Eleven

Maren

As soon as my eyes open in my darkened room, I'm up. I slide my feet into slippers, wrap a robe around my shoulders, and rush to the kitchen to put a pot of coffee on, my eyes scanning the street outside the entire time.

It's been twenty-four hours since I last saw Mac, and I can still feel the way his body felt on mine, how his hands felt as they tugged my hair and gripped my back, how luscious it was to be filled by his—

"Dang girl, you run a marathon before your first cup of coffee?"

"Uh, why?" I study the pot as if willing it to go faster, as if this was my main concern for the day.

"Because you're all flushed and out of breath. Has Naked Coffee Guy shown up yet? "

"Hm?" I say it as if I haven't been looking for him. "Oh, not sure. What time does he usually pass by?"

5:07 a.m. every day. Unless he's sleeping next to me in a hotel room.

"Oh, there he is!"

I lose my cool and dart to the window, staring at his rippling abs as he holds his coffee, completely oblivious that he has an audience. I glance at Nina, and instantly feel annoyance that she's also watching him—as if he belongs to me.

He doesn't. But I know what he feels like in bed, and she does not. I have more rights to him than anyone else.

Real nice, Maren. I force myself to leave the window, grabbing a cup of coffee even as I know he's still within view, if I only looked. I pour a cup for Nina too.

"Come on, we're going to be late for work."

I'm distracted my entire shift, checking my phone every few minutes, and watching the door as if Mac will walk through it. If what we're doing is casual, I'm failing in every sense because I can't stop thinking about him. Is he thinking of me, too? Or is this a game to him?

More than anything, I hate that I'm being reduced to feeling this crazy. I've left guys for acting this possessive, and now I'm the one extending my claws, ready to sink them into Mac and claim him as mine forever .

I know I made him promise he couldn't tell anyone, but I can't keep this in any longer without going completely insane. So, once my shift ends, I head straight for Claire's house and walk in the door unannounced.

I find Claire in her studio, headphones on as she leans over the current craft she's working on. Right now, she's creating tiny books that fit on a keychain, and I recognize Nicole Shannon's most popular series, including the book that's set to release next month.

"Don't tell me you've already read Fated Hate ." I pick up one of the tiny books and look at it, realizing I'm one of the first to see the cover. Nicole Shannon has been teasing the cover reveal on her Instagram for weeks, and there it is, in all its bare-chested glory.

Claire removes her headphones and grins.

"I read it twice, it's so good," she says. I'm tempted to ask her to borrow it, but I know Claire honors the trust of the authors she works with, and even signs contracts promising not to share books before their release. I know that even if Claire weren't legally bound by NDAs, she would still take it seriously. So I don't even bother asking…even though I'm dying to read this book.

"Hey, what if I accidentally agreed to a fling with an awful person, except that he's not so awful when it's just the two of us, and he's kind of ruined me for any other guy, and now it's making me forget all the reasons I hate him even though I truly hate this person?"

Claire tilts her head at me, then pulls up a chair to sit. I do the same, then bury my head in my hands. "I don't know what to do, Claire. I've never felt this crazy."

"Have you talked with him about it?" she asks gently, resting her hand on my arm. I lift my head and sigh.

"I can't. The whole purpose of being casual is to not have the relationship talk, and we only started this last night."

Claire looked closer at me. "Wait. You're not talking about Brock?"

"Ew, no. I would never catch feelings for that creep."

"Then who?" But as soon as she asks, her face takes on a look of understanding. "Oh my god, you didn't."

"I did." I hide my face again.

"I'm just putting this out there because I hope to god it's true, but are you talking about Naked Coffee Guy?"

I bury my head again as she squeals.

"Maren, that's brilliant! I can't believe you're fighting this."

"You know why I can't fall for him, Claire. Ugh, this was such a mistake."

"No, it wasn't. I want to hear everything, but not yet. Finn is coming home any minute, and we need to leave the house so you can give me every single dirty detail."

I groan, but Claire is already out the door, informing Ethan he's on dad duty while we enjoy a girl's night out .

An hour later we're sitting in Breakers, taking up space at a high-top while she sips a chocolate martini and I nurse a Diet Coke. Claire's mouth is a permanent "O" as I describe everything that's happened since Mac pushed me up against the alley wall outside Insomniacs to the moment I walked out of the hotel room. But I left out the control part, because well, Claire wouldn't understand. Ethan is her one and only love, including sex. I hardly know what their sex life is like, nor do I want to. I can't discuss mine with her either, and I'm not sure I want to see the level of shocked Claire would be if I talked about how dominant I usually am in the bedroom. So I can't talk about last night's role reversal without a lot of explaining.

"And he hasn't called or texted?"

I shake my head. "Casual, remember? It would break the rules."

"You're already breaking the rules by telling me," Claire points out. "So you should text him. if he responds right away, then you have your answer."

I shoot a look at her. "Did you forget the part where I hate him?" Not to mention, he made it clear who was in charge here, and it wasn't me.

Why was I agreeing to this? Oh yeah, because the man's presence alone makes me breathless, let alone the way he fucks me .

"Did you forget the part where he gave you multiple orgasms in one night, and how that's just a precursor to how things could be?"

I bark out a laugh. "Damn, Claire, you're starting to sound like me."

"And you're starting to sound like me . Where did Maren go? Because my best friend would be at Naked Coffee Guy's house right now, telling him to shut up and put out, regardless of some petty bullshit."

Okay, so maybe Claire did understand my weird control kink.

"Being homeless isn't petty, Claire." I'm lucky it didn't get that far, this time. I remember all too well what it was like to live in my car, worried I'd be found by some rapist or something. And while Sunset Bay has mild weather most of the year, it gets cold at night just like any place. When you're skin and bones, nighttime feels like the worst.

"Maren, I know that, and I know you have experiences I'm grateful I've never had." Claire holds my hand. She's known me through everything. Of course she can see where my mind has gone. "But those were the old days, things are different now. You could have stayed with me, and you know that. While Nina's not a golden ray of sunshine, at least she has a room you can rent. I know this isn't your ideal situation, and you've had to give up a lot because of it, but what if all of this happened for a reason?"

This is so classic Claire, the eternal optimist. But it also reminds me of what Mac said that first day I met him, about enduring terrible things and choosing how to react to them.

My choice was to let that become my identity and remain angry, or to take what I'd learned from those years and change my present and future…I chose the latter, and it's a choice I have to make every day to keep from letting the demons win.

I hold grudges, wearing them like they're expensive jewelry. The day my parents turned their backs on me, I swore I'd never return. It was a protection of sorts, to keep me from feeling that vulnerable again.

Now I'm doing it with Mac. I know this. Yes, the choice he made affected me and dozens of others. I've done a lot of scrambling in the wake of losing my home.

But now I have a choice. Do I hold this against him forever, and let this taint our obvious connection? Or do I let it go and open myself to the full potential of what we could be?

"He doesn't even know why I hate him." I stare at my phone on the table, wishing it would light up with a text from him. I need to know I'm not alone in feeling this way.

" Do you hate him?" Claire asks.

I look up, ready to answer yes, because of course I hate him. But I pause just long enough to doubt my feelings. I hate what happened. I hate that I now live in a tiny room in a messy house with the most flaky and thoughtless person I know.

I hate that Mac played a part in the reason I had to leave my apartment. But do I hate him ?

"I don't," I admit. "I'm angry with him, but I don't hate him. I can admit that maybe I shouldn't even be angry with him because he was just doing his job and still has no idea that it affected me." And even though it makes no sense at all, I get the feeling if I stop reminding myself that Mac is just a fuck, I could end up falling for him.

How would it feel to fall completely? To just trust that this is the Universe speaking, as Mac told me that first night. What if I let down my guard and made the first move toward something that looked nothing like casual?

I pick up my phone, hesitating for just a moment to look at Claire for moral support.

"Do it," she dared.

With a grin, I unlock the phone and consider what to send. In the past, I would have just texted Hey , then wait for the guy to do all the talking. It was a way to keep the upper hand without revealing my cards. But now that I think about it, it wasn't a power play at all. So right now, I'm going to go out on a limb and just say what I'm thinking, to shape the path we're on, and to let him be the one to react.

I know we said we'd keep things casual. But Mac, nothing between us feels casual. I'd normally enter the day after without so much as a thought to the night before, but the other night was different. You're different. I have not stopped thinking about you. Am I alone in this? Because I haven't heard from you for two days, and I'm kind of freaking out. Which is why I have to tell you this, because if you're not feeling the same, we need to call this off. I can't risk falling any deeper than I already am.

I pause, re-reading what I wrote. Claire is over my shoulder, reading along.

"Except for the part where you're practically begging him to end this, this is really good," she says. At the same time, I'm realizing just how touchy-feely the text is.

I can't send this. What was I even thinking? I quickly delete the whole thing and hear Claire's audible gasp as I do.

"Maren, what the hell?"

I shake my head, the phone like a burning ember in my hand. I still want to reach out to him, but I am not about to spill my whole heart to him. So I do what I should have done to begin with.

Me: Hey .

"Way to open up there, Huerta."

I glance up as Claire rolls her eyes, but then I look back at my phone, waiting to see what happens.

Underneath the text, the word delivered changes to read .

"Look," I say, pointing to it. I place the phone in the center of the table so we both can wait for his response.

And wait.

We stare at that phone for at least five minutes, and nothing happens. No three dots to show he's texting me back. No text at all. Just silence in a moment that feels more naked than his bare chest on an early morning coffee walk.

I look up at Claire and offer a tight smile. "And that's why I'm not going to barf my feelings out to him."

"He's probably not answering because there is literally no way to respond to hey ."

"Um…he could text hey back," I point out, and she rolls her eyes.

"Whatever. Just because he's not texting back right away, it doesn't mean anything."

But I know it does. I know because if he texted me, I'd…

Well, I'd wait a bit so I didn't seem overly eager, even though I would have read it right away.

"Okay, fine. It doesn't mean anything, at least not yet." I pick up my phone and slip it in my purse. "But if he hasn't texted me back by tomorrow, I'll have my answer."

"He will," Claire says, slipping the waitress her credit card as she waves off the few dollars I'm holding out to her. "You had a $2 soda, I got this."

We leave the bar and head for her car when I realize I left my jacket on the back of my chair.

"Warm up the car, I'll be quick," I say, then jog back to Breakers before she can answer.

A couple are sitting at the table we were at, my jacket nowhere to be seen. I ask the waitress behind the bar if she's seen it.

"Oh yeah, I stuck it in the back in case you returned. Hold on, I'll get it."

I look around while I wait, and a familiar face catches me off guard in the back of the bar. It's Mac, and he's not alone. My heart drops as I fully register the scene in front of me. Mac is dressed similarly to what he wore last night—a white shirt open at the top and black slacks. I can't see the woman's face, but judging from her salon blonde hair and expensive red dress with a side slit, I'd say she's pretty much gorgeous. Mac is smiling, talking with animated hands, and it seems like our casual affair is the furthest thing from his mind.

We never said we couldn't see other people. In fact, in the rules of being casual, it's a given that we're free agents.

So why does this hurt so bad?

"Here's your jacket," the waitress says, interrupting me from my creepy stalking. I turn and take it from her, inwardly telling myself to walk away and forget I even saw Mac.

But I can't. I swivel back in their direction, watching to see just how serious this is.

The answer is immediate. He's holding a jewelry box open and she's leaning over it, her hand at her chest like she's breathless from what she's seeing.

Then Mac looks up, his eyes finding mine. And even from across the room, I can see he realizes he's been caught. Is that even the right phrase? Because he doesn't belong to me, and I don't belong to him.

I turn and run, pushing my way through the crowded bar as I hear him calling my name. But I won't stop, because I never want to see Mac Dermot again. Fuck men, and all the ways they never measure up.