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She huffed out a breath, shrugging. “Yeah, sure. I
guess.”

I really didn’t want to, but sometimes you don’t
like the things you have to do for love. This was one of them. I
wanted to piss off Maggie for ruining our time together, and dating
that asshole. If she was going to be giving up her body to him,
then I was playing that game too. I felt like a prick, and yeah, it
was childish, but so was her running away.

The next morning I strolled in to find Maggie
sitting on the couch watching television, eating a bowl of cereal.
She glanced up, and took notice of my work clothes from the
previous night. She rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything. That
stung. “Hey, Mags. How was your night? You talk to Mark again?”

She stood to place her bowl in the sink, but I
stepped in front to block her. “Luke, knock it off. His name is Max
and you know it,” she huffed, scrunching her nose at me. “You smell
like shit.” I let her walk around me this time, because even though
I was fully aware that I was acting like an immature prick. I
didn’t care. I hated myself for it.

Maggie opened the fridge, searching for something
before bending over. The bottom of her cute ass peeked out from
underneath her tiny sweat shorts. It was all I could do to restrain
myself. I bit down on the skin between my thumb and index finger,
trying to stop myself from saying something regrettable or from
throwing her up against the fridge. Her hips shifted, then she
stood up, turning to me.

“So, where were you all night?”

Instead of giving her the sordid details of my roll
in the park with Sam, I answered, “Out.”

She placed her hands on her hips, all pissy. All I
could think-there she is. There’s my Maggie.

“Obviously. How was work?”

“Work was work, Maggie. If you’ll excuse me, I’m
tired. I didn’t sleep much last night.” I winked. Let her stew over
that for a while. Truth was, I was tired. Even though Samantha and
I didn’t do anything more, she kept me up until after four talking.
I hauled my ass out of there before she even woke up. I’d never
asked to spend the night before, and I sure as shit hoped she
didn’t get any wrong ideas over my unusual, but one- time only
request. I felt guilty enough being with someone other than Maggie.
Even though I had no reason to be.

Jeremy was fast asleep on his side of the room when
I popped the Xanax. I probably didn’t even need them anymore, but I
was afraid to stop taking them. The times that I had, I’d dreamt
about my parents, or my sister, their mangled car. The idea of them
screaming in pain, the blood, Phoebe’s pale skin. Even the days I
lost with Maggie haunted me more than I cared to admit. I hated
waking up to remember my whole life was gone, realizing how hollow
I felt.

Yeah, I was still here, but what good was I really
doing? I worked at a bar. I had a bachelor’s degree in finance, and
was still unable to find a job that I felt lived up to what I
wanted out of life. Besides, money wasn’t an issue. I had plenty
now. I’d give it all back if it meant Sunday dinners and week-long
visits in the summer to Hilton Head. That was the one thing my
father made sure of when we were growing up--a proper summer
vacation. We’d spend one week every summer in South Carolina. Once
we switched it up to head to a lake in Wisconsin, but it wasn’t the
same.

***

A week later, I’d just walked through the door when
an aroma hit my nose, making me salivate. Maggie was wearing an
apron, stirring a large pot. I had to stop moving as a memory
slammed into me so hard I almost fell flat on my ass. My
seventeenth birthday. She’d begged me to stay for dinner to taste
something she’d made for me. And knowing my parents were out of
town for the weekend with my little sister, she probably felt
obligated to take care of me. It was funny-whenever I stayed
overnight, that little girl was always the one who took care of me.
My parents didn’t want to leave me alone in the house for fear I’d
bring a girl home or have some crazy-ass-out-of-hand-party, so I’d
stay at the Collins’.

“Oh, hey, you’re back. I made dinner and homemade
chocolate cake.” Maggie looked behind me. “Where are the guys?”

“Jer had to work. And Dean went out with some girl
he met.”

She continued to stir. “Well, um, if you want, I
bought some wine today and made some homemade sauce.” She turned
quickly around, but I could tell she was nervous.

“Yeah, Maggie. Sounds great. Let me go shower
first.” Truth be told, it did sound great. Just the pair of us
enjoying a meal together. She even made me cake. My favorite one
that she’d made since sophomores back in high school. I wanted it
to go well, so I promised myself while I was getting cleaned up
that I wouldn’t start my usual shit to get her riled up. I would
make this night work in my favor, even if it killed me.

I hated the way things had been between us the last
few days. I knew it was mostly my fault for behaving like a jackass
most of the time but it really bothered me that she was seeing
another guy. Even if he lived all the way in New York and they only
spoke over the phone. It still pissed me off. I wanted to know if
she’d been physical with him. I wanted to know if I was still the
only one she’d let get that close to her. That thought alone kept
me up at night wondering if I wasn’t the only one who got to
experience what it was like with Maggie. The way she kissed, the
way she tasted, the sound of her moaning, the feel of her naked
body. I’d missed it all.

When I came out of my room, she was already setting
the plates down on the island. It was a small three-seater, which
meant we’d be sitting nice and close.

My hopes got the best of me as she flashed me one of
her beautiful smiles, gesturing for me to take a seat. She walked
around, grabbing the opened bottle of wine, and filled the glasses.
She had on a skimpy pair of shorty shorts and one of my old plaid
Hollister button-up shirts she’d stolen from me years ago.

“So, what did you do today?” she asked as she
twirled the spaghetti around her fork.

“Shot hoops at the Y with some guys.”

“I didn’t know you were still playing.”

“I’m not. It was just for fun.” Basketball was
something I’d played in high school, and I played it well. I
enjoyed it, but as I got older, the thrill faded. “Did you stay
home and cook all day?”

She nodded.

“Well, it’s just like I remember. So, thank you.”
She flashed another quick smile my way but instead of saying
anything, she kept on eating.

We talked about different things. She was very
opinionated about my new hair and the few tattoos. Before she’d
disappeared, I’d been the straight-laced golden boy. Perfect
family, kick-ass grades, good in sports, ton of friends. Now, in
the wake of life altering events, I was different, and she’d
noticed the change. My hair, my attitude, the tattoos. At the time,
it felt necessary. Now it was just a part of me, although I was
growing my hair out again, probably for her.

Once dinner was done, I cleared the plates like I
always used to. That was our thing-she cooked, I cleaned.

“I got that,” she said, pulling the plates from my
hands.

“Maggie, I got it. It’s the least I can do. Go open
another bottle and relax.” She relented but huffed as she walked
around me to get to the wine rack on the counter. I heard the cork
pop just as I stacked the dishes into the dishwasher. I snuck a
quick glance to watch her perfectly shaped body strut to the couch.
I wiped off any lingering sauce on the counter, and made my way
over to the side table. This is where we kept our sound system. I
turned the radio on low and grabbed my empty glass to take a seat
across from her. My body ached to sit next to her, or better yet,
have her on top of me, but I wasn’t going to push my luck.

Not yet, anyway.

This was another side of me that changed. The old me
would have forced her into my room until she caved. The new me was
trying really hard to be patient with her. To sort herself out,
then hopefully come back to me willingly.

Maggie was nervous. Her hands were loosely wrapped
around her glass, turning it round and round on the table. “Do you
think you’ll ever talk to your mom again?” I knew this was a sore
subject, but I wanted to know in case she needed backup. Quite
frankly, I didn’t know what else to talk about.

She shrugged. “Eventually, I guess. You know how I
feel about her.” She eased back into the cushions, taking her glass
with her. She took a heavy sip, and sat back up. “Why do you
ask?”

I tried not to go all caveman protective like I
always was when it came to her, so, I held up my hands. “Jeremy and
I were talking about it. I think he’d feel better if you two worked
something out.”

She sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Is he
worried about me?”

“Of course he is. Blue, we all are.”

After I flat-out admitted that I was worried about
her, she topped off her glass. She was now working on number four,
and this was not like her at all. She’d never been a heavy drinker.
Sure, she’d have a beer or two when we were younger, maybe even a
shot, but she’d already knocked back three drinks in under an
hour.

All of a sudden, Maggie was looking at me like she
used to. She studied me with those huge baby-blues that I used to
love to get lost in. And even though that look shouldn’t scare me,
it did. It scared the ever-living shit out of me. She noticed my
empty glass and jumped up.

“I’ll get some more.”

More? Yeah, that’s just what she needed.

At the rate she was going, I was going to be holding
back her hair, spending the night watching her pray to the
porcelain gods. I shook my head as she struggled with the
corkscrew, but she finally managed to pop the cork free.

She smiled as she walked over to me, and instead of
sitting where she had been, she sat down next to me. Her leg grazed
mine, which should’ve gotten me excited as hell, but it only made
me gun-shy. She filled my glass and topped off her own leaving me
very curious as to what exactly Maggie wanted out of this night.
Me? I was up for anything that involved her naked and in my
bed.

The next time I got brave enough to glance in her
direction, Maggie flicked her glassy eyes up to mine. “Blue, come
on. Don’t do this. Let’s just have some fun for once. I’m sick of
fighting with you.”

She wiped the few tears with the back of her hand.
“You’re right. I just...can I say one thing and then I’ll drop it?”
she pleaded. And even though I wanted to say no, that I didn’t want
to hear any more excuses, I couldn’t deny her.

I nodded for her to continue.

“I’m so, so very sorry for causing you pain, and for
not being here when you needed me the most. I should’ve called. I
should’ve been here. I hate the way we’re treating each other.
That’s all I wanted to say. We haven’t really talked about
everything.” She started to cry a little again, but I picked up her
hand and held it in mine. “I’m done, I promise,” she whispered.

“You already apologized. There are so many things I
thought when you left. I was so mad at you at the time. I needed
you so much. I loved you so much, it hurt. And then I started
thinking if you never left, then I probably would’ve been in that
car, and I’d be dead too. Then what would’ve happened to you? How
would you have gone on without me? But, you were gone, so I figured
you didn’t need me. It took awhile, but I forgave you, I swear.
Thing is, I’ve never forgotten you left me alone. I needed you,
Mags. When they died...fuck! It was really hard. I had Jer and Dean
but it wasn’t the same.”

I knew she was on her way to being drunk, or maybe
she was already there. But, it all came pouring out again. It
wasn’t to make her cry, or to have those beautiful blue eyes stare
back at me like there was hope for the two of us. It was something
I needed to get off my chest again. Drunk or not I needed her to
remember what she did to me. How she crushed me. And just being
this close to her was wearing me down to my fucking core.

She clutched at my hand as it was still holding onto
hers, and then released it. We froze when the next song came on. It
was ours, and until tonight, whenever it played I turned it off
before the first word issued through the speakers. She lifted her
gaze to me, biting her lip, and I could tell what she wanted. I
wanted it too. There was no way in hell I was changing that channel
tonight. I’d be a fool.

Because it has always been Maggie. She’s the only
girl I’ll ever love.

As “I Melt With You” from Modern English hit the
first chorus, I stood and held out my hand to see if she’d take it.
I knew I was feeling good after the wine, but Maggie was definitely
feeling better, because she fell heavily into my arms.

It became our song way back in high school before
“we” even existed-freshman year. Nothing was on TV. I was sleeping
over. We decided on some lame-ass old movie called Valley Girl.
Maggie’s choice. Which turned out to be pretty good. At the end of
the movie, I pulled Mags off the couch and swung her around to the
music. Every since, we always danced when it came on the radio. It
was a fast song, so we acted like idiots, but once we became a
couple, we danced to it like it was some damn romantic ballad.

Not a second later, we were wrapped up in each other
like old times. I wasn’t expecting anything more than those
precious moments holding her in my arms, but then Maggie lifted her
head and since she was much shorter than I was, she stood up on her
tiptoes to get an even better look into my eyes.

As a few tears ran down her cheek, I wanted to cry
myself. I lifted my hand, my thumb rubbing her tears away. Without
giving it any thought, I moved it down to caress her cheek, to tuck
her hair behind her ear, to feel the softness of her lips. I traced
over the bottom one because it was my favorite. I used to love to
take it in my mouth, kiss it, suck on it, taste it. It was fuller
than her upper lip, and there was something about it that made me
want to savor it. To see if it tasted as sweet as it seemed. She
smiled, but instead of doing what I really wanted, I bent down
slightly and kissed the tip of her nose. I tried not to let myself
get too sucked into the moment, in case she decided to change her
mind. I was pretty positive my heart couldn’t possibly handle
another rejection from her.