Josie

My fingers clutched around the to-go coffee as I paced myself through campus toward my first lab class. I’d hardly slept through the night after what happened with Maverick.

The fine line between hate and want taunted me. It never had before. Our relationship stood far from what happened in the kitchen the night before. Maverick’s bullying had always been just that. I almost felt delusional to think that it could be anything else.

We weren’t in third grade when a guy pulled your hair because he liked you.

I hadn’t met Maverick until ninth grade, fourteen-years-old, when guys normally pulled your ponytail and smirked, not tripped you or shoved you into lockers. 

Sighing, I took another long sip of my macchiato. Both Jordan and Maverick had been gone when I got up. Not that I’d actually slept well in the first place. The only sign Maverick had been there was the scent of his soap he left behind in the shower.

My computer lab sat in a three-story building that the technology classes shared with the art department. My fingers itched for my first art class later that day, which got me through high school. However, I wasn't good enough to earn a scholarship, and my parents didn't think it was anything other than a hobby. Thank God for mandatory electives. 

Graffiti art didn’t land you in art museums as traditional art did, plus, I needed something sound as my mother called it.

Being early, I found myself roaming the halls, drawn to a bulletin board on the first floor.

Writing Tutors Wanted caught my eye.

“Oh, please tell me you’re interested in a tutoring job.”

I turned to a girl with bright red hair, piercings in her eyebrows and her lip with a pleading look on her elfish face. She dug a keychain from her fringed leather purse and unlocked the writing center door.

I swallowed, envying her mixed ethnicity and the color it left her flawless skin. “Uh, actually, yeah, I’m looking for an on-campus job. Are you doing the hiring?”

She tossed her keys and motioned for me to follow her. The florescent lighting hung low and highlighted three long rows of computers. “I’m India, I’m a senior literature major, and I do most of the hiring when Professor Sarah not’s here.”

I followed her to the corner of the room where a small white desk sat surrounded by filing cabinets, dream catchers and funky looking wood décor. She pointed to the foldout chair in front of me. “Sit.”

I slid into the seat, keeping an eye on the clock above her head. “So you’re a freshman?”

“Yep, second day.”

India turned on her computer, and clanked away for a few seconds before grabbing a paper she printed. “Fill this out. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve got it.”

I lifted a brow at her. “Just like that? What if I suck?”

She smirked in a challenging way, her deep dark eyes almost laughed. “Do you suck?”

“No,” I laughed. “I’m actually majoring in English. I love to read and I aced all my writing classes back in Zachary.”

She clicked her tongue at me. “Exactly what I thought.”

I hurried and filled out the paper with my emergency contact, phone number and address.

“I’ll email you tonight with the schedule, there are only a few people signed up at the moment, so you’ll get plenty of hours.”

“Great.”

India looked over her head. “You have class?”

“Yeah.”

She shooed me with her hand, and I almost skipped toward my computer lab. A balding man with a real knack for putting you to sleep taught my technical writing class. 

However, I felt too happy about my job to care about my boredom. When the hour passed, I raced toward the cafeteria to grab something to eat. My cell phone buzzed in my pocket, while I stood in line to get something to eat.

“Hello?”

“Nǐ hǎo bǎobèi.”

Oh no. “Hey Momma.”

“You never called me. Is everything okay? Did you get settled in with your roommate?”

I debated telling her the truth while pointing toward the spaghetti and garlic bread. “Uh … yeah, everything is good. I’m actually at lunch right now before my next class. How is Dad?”

“He’s fine. At work. We want to come up to visit soon and see your apartment.”

Crap. I hadn’t thought past getting a place to stay. If my mother or my father found out about Jordan or Maverick, they would put a stop to it somehow. Panic climbed my throat and strangled my words.

“Josie?” Mom asked. “Is everything okay?”

I could imagine her perfectly plucked eyebrow lifted in a knowing manner and her fingernails tapping un-rhythmically against the granite of our kitchen island. I even imagined how tight the bun on top of her head looked, pulling her eyes back even further than naturally.

“No, Momma. Everything is fine. I’m just finding a place to sit. Y’all can come soon. I have a busy schedule right now, I’ve landed a job as a tutor, and when I get my schedule from that, I will let y’all know a good time.”

She seemed to buy it. “Okay, well, let us know if you need any money. I’m … proud of you, bǎobèi.”

I cringed. I hated lying to my mother. “I will, Momma. Talk to you soon.”

The chair squeaked against the tile as I plopped down. I wanted to freak out about it, but at least I’d bought myself some time. One problem at a time.

My phone buzzed again halfway through my lunch.

King: Ready for tomorrow?

A lighthearted laugh slipped from my mouth. I hadn’t dated much—okay, at all—in high school. No one ever showed me any interest. I had friends, sort of, but none of the guys gave me a second glance.

It excited me to have a date.

Me: Yep. Nervous, but excited.

I finished my lunch, and tossed my trash before heading to the art building for Intro to Art Design.

King: Haven’t changed your mind yet, have you?

Me: Nope.

I stopped in front of my class and waited.

King: Maverick seemed pissed this morning. You sure y’all don’t have anything going on?

It didn’t surprise me that Maverick’s mood hadn’t changed since the night before. He always walked around with a frown on his face.

Me: Maverick and I aren’t anything. He hates me, always has.

I deleted the last part, not wanting King to think Maverick pushed me around my entire life and shoved my phoned into my jeans pocket.

***

The day flew by with a building homework pile and an email with my schedule that would keep me busy at the writing center.

The smell of food wafted from the apartment when I made my way home around six. Jordan yelped out and I rushed in to find him trying to handle a boiling pot of mac-n-cheese.

His dark eyes met mine and he laughed. “Wow ... Gordon Ramsey, everyone,” I said turning the burner down.

“Shut up,” he laughed. “I just wanted some mac-n-cheese.”

I put the pot back down. “Once it starts boiling you have to turn the heat down or it’ll run over.”

Jordan huffed, turning his baseball hat around backwards. “This is for the birds. I’ve been living off campus for three years and I still don’t know how not to burn mac-n-cheese.”

I sat my backpack down on the kitchen table. “I know a little about cooking, I can help if you need it.”

He eyed me questionably. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I grabbed a salad from the café but I haven’t eaten it yet.”

“Cool want some tacos?”

Thirty minutes later, the apartment smelled great and music spilled from the living room TV. Jordan wore a huge smile once we started making our plates and sat down at the table to eat.

“I’m so stoked you’re here,” he said, taco sauce running down his chin. “I mean—I love to eat.”

I chuckled, adding some sour cream before taking an unladylike bite. “Well, we can expand your knowledge some for when I’m gone.”

Jordan looked over his food. “So, I mean, if you can’t find a place to stay I really don’t mind you staying here, especially if you’re gonna help me cook.”

I smirked, knowing it would be the easiest for me to stay, but not knowing if I could handle Maverick. “I mean ... I want to but—,”

Jordan dropped his taco and leaned back. “So what’s up with you two? I mean, I haven’t known Maverick long, but he hasn’t treated any other girl the way he treats you.”

I swallowed, unsure whether I could trust him or not.

He noticed. “I won’t say anything to him. What’s the deal? That interaction in the living room and then him hauling you in here like a sack of potatoes ... I mean, it’s weird.”

I chuckled, tucking my hair. “Maverick and I ... he bullied me in high school.”

Jordan furrowed his brow. “It just doesn’t add up, ya know. Maverick gets girls easily, why would he bully you—,”

“It’s not because he likes me, Jordan,” I whispered. “He hates me and I don’t know why. He tossed a football at my head yesterday and knocked me down.”

Jordan scoffed. “Seriously? What a dick. You want me to say something?”

“No!” I shouted, shaking my head, suddenly my stomach felt queasy. “No. I’ll make it work.”

Jordan eyed his food, taking another careful bite. “Does he hit you?”

“No, he doesn’t. He’s been extra confusing since I got here.”

“How so?”

The front door opened, and I shoved a taco into my mouth to keep myself quiet. Maverick walked inside drenched in sweat from what looked like the gym. His white undershirt hung from his shoulder, his bare chest heaving with heavy breaths and sweat raced down toward the top of his purple LSU shorts.

Jordan looked at me quickly before glancing over his shoulder. “What up. Want some tacos? We saved you some.”

Maverick’s Adam’s apple bobbed deep in his throat. Keeping my eyes on my food, I felt him near the table and make himself a plate.

“We?” he finally asked as he plopped down in-between the two of us. “You made this?” he eyed Jordan.

Jordan rolled his eyes. “No, I was making mac-n-cheese and Josie came to the rescue and we made tacos together.”

Maverick’s gaze slid to me, but I didn’t look up from my plate. I had one taco to go before I could get the heck out of there.

“Good aren’t they?” Jordan asked. “This is awesome, with Josie’s help we can finally eat something besides takeout.”

I glanced at Jordan, pleading with him to shut up. Talk about something else. Maverick’s gaze seared my skin, all the way down to my toes.

“Too bad she won’t be here long,” Maverick said, swallowing a mouthful of taco.

Jordan didn’t miss a beat. “Well, I was thinking that she could stay.”

Maverick’s head jerked upright. “No.”

Jordan leaned back carefully, giving Maverick a look that I couldn’t decipher. I pleaded with him not to say anything about what I told him.

“This was my apartment first, bro, and if Josie can pay her share, I don’t know why she can’t stay. Did you two screw or something?”

I coughed on my food, reaching for my tea to swallow it down. “No,” I croaked. “No.”

Maverick’s fist that rested against the table next to mine clenched into a fist. “Don’t sound so disgusted,” he said, eyeing me. “We both know you’d drop your panties the first time I tried.”

Oh my ... douchebag.

Grinding my teeth, I glared up at him. His daring green eyes sparkled in hatred, his jaw clenched as I worked my nerve up to speak. Slowly, I chuckled, trying to calm myself in front of Jordan.

“No, Maverick, I don’t sleep with guys that have no standards. You slept with the entire Zachary cheerleading squad, and not once did any of them brag about it. Must not have been worth it.”

Not true. None of it. Every cheerleader that dated Maverick bragged about it, talked about how well endowed he’d been and how they couldn’t wait for another round. However, it never happened. Maverick was a one and done kind of guy. Everyone knew it.

Maverick swallowed, ignoring Jordan’s chuckle. “Says the virgin that never dated anyone in high school,” Maverick said, leaning forward, one elbow on the table and the other reached over and squeezed my thigh in his palm, making me jump in surprise. “Why is that Josie Lee? Why did everyone steer clear of you back then?”

Arrogance rolled off him and could have choked me.

Slapping his hand away, he didn’t budge, I felt myself growing angry. Jordan cleared his throat but I couldn’t stop myself. I grabbed my tea and tossed it at Maverick’s face while jumping up from my seat.

I didn’t give either of them a chance to say anything before I raced toward my bedroom and slammed the door.

Maverick was right, I needed to find another place to live, because now I felt scared that he would retaliate, and I wasn’t sure what that entailed any longer.

His bullying felt different. The way his palm felt against my bare thigh electrified my nerve endings and made me want ... I was too embarrassed to say it. I hated myself for it.

I wouldn’t be that girl. The girl that lets a boy touch her unwillingly, or fall for the one boy that ruined her life. I couldn’t let this go on any longer, because if he diminished the distance between us any more than he had—I might fall in the opposite direction.