“And you don’t know why he ghosted you?”
“No—that’s what ghosting means, leaving without explanation. Maybe you’re not as bright as I thought you were?”
“Jesus fuck. Speculate, Elkington. Why do youthinkhe’s ghosted you?”
“No clue. We had some steamy times. Fuck, the way that man tastes?—”
“TMI, Mav.”
“Right, sorry. Anyway, we were hot and heavy for a bit, and then he told me not to speak to him ever again. That we’re over. I said we were never over,” he says, balling his hand into a fist, murder abducting his expression. “I apologized for everything about my character I could think of. Promised to make it up to him if he would just tell me what I did … but nothing. I couldn’t get near him because of Coach Meyer, and now that he’s gone to coach for New York, Bryce is gone too.”
I guess … guess the guy could have at least told Maverick why, but to be fair, whatever it is seems inconsequential to Maverick, so Bryce probably thought it was better to have a clean break. Or maybe there’s nothing, and Bryce just wanted Maverick out of his life. Seeing how intense Maverick is about Bryce, it makes sense that he could have been forced to block him. Still not sure if it’s true love or obsession.
“Why do you want to be with someone who doesn’t want to be with you? It’s no fun, I promise.”
“He does want to be with me,” Maverick says.
“Maverick—”
“I know what it looks like—I must look as crazy as I feel—but I know that he does. I know it like I’ve never known anything else. We belong together. If I thought for even a second that his actions were a true indication of his feelings, I’d leave him alone. My heart’s telling me otherwise.”
His lip actually fucking trembles. Does he know for sure? Or is that what hehasto believe, what he tells himself, so he doesn’t break apart?
Is he about to cry?
Fuck, I’m about to take pity on Maverick Elkington. What the hell is going on?
“I’m not sure what to tell you. Even if you’re right, you can’t make someone be with you.”
He sits up taller. “I can.”
Oh boy. “You gotta lay off, man.” This isn’t my problem, but it’s become my responsibility. Maybe, over time, I can convince him to move on.
Because that worked out so well with Dash and Stacey.Ugh. I need new friends and teammates.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and a distraction is exactly what I need right now. Maybe someone’s having an emergency, and I can leave this uncomfortable conversation.
Trav
Heard through the grapevine you’re on a date.
For fucksake, Dashie.
I down my soda and throw some money on the table. “Gotta go, man. Sorry.”
“No, no. This one’s on me. Your advice was helpful.”
It was? Not sure I did much.
In the parking lot, I call Trav, out of breath from running out of the restaurant. “Trav? Trav? I didn’t … I’m not on a fucking date.”
“Dash said?—”
“I let Dash believe I was hooking up. Sorry, I should have texted to let you know I was just grabbing a soda with Elkington. Have some faith in me, Travis.”
“Shit, my full name. I deserved that.”
I laugh. “That’s not a thing.” He thinks that when I call him Travis instead of Trav—outside of sex—I’m scolding him.
