When We Collide (13 page)

God. She was beautiful.

Every inch of my body bristled in awareness, filled
me with a need that was so much more than just latent desire. What
was it about her? Yeah, she was gorgeous, undoubtedly someone who
would have turned my head had I passed her on the street. But she
gripped me deeper than that. Maybe it was who she was, the mystery
surrounding this girl’s life, the need I saw on her face. The
innate need I felt to protect her. Yet I’d been captured by her
before I even knew who she was.

Whatever it was that drew me to her, I knew I wanted
it all.

Managing to gather my senses, I cleared my throat
and spoke to her for the first time.

“Hi, Maggie. It’s nice to meet you.” My hand
fluttered up in an awkward wave.

Dropping her gaze to the floor, she muttered a
timid, “Hi,” though she couldn’t hide the faint smile that graced
her lips.

My mother shattered our moment with a sudden
urgency.

“Here...let’s show you around.” Ushering Maggie
toward the stairs, my mom began in nonstop, nervous chatter as she
followed close behind the girl.

I couldn’t look away as the two ascended the
stairs.

Maggie peeked at me over her shoulder, a flush of
red coloring her cheeks, before she turned away.

I watched as they vanished at the landing, Mom’s
voice fading when they entered my parents’ bedroom.

When I’d stared for too long at nothing, I finally
retreated back into the kitchen to finish cleaning up. I tried not
to focus on the echo of the footsteps above me, pretended the
object of my every dream and every nightmare for the last four days
hadn’t manifested before my eyes. I pretended she wasn’t here,
moving through my home, moving through my heart.

Shaking my head at myself, I rinsed the rag under
the kitchen faucet. I was a fool if I thought I was going to get
her off of my mind.

Stupid.

Two hours later, I lay flat on my back on my bed. I
used one arm as a headrest and with my free hand played toss with a
small rubber ball. I could still hear her—feel her—as she slipped
in and out of rooms, the whoosh and crack of blankets as they were
shaken out, beds remade, the intermittent roar of the vacuum,
though even that somehow seemed subdued. How typical, I thought,
for this girl to have the ability to hide even in the noisy clatter
of cleaning.

Earlier, Mom had snuck up on me in the kitchen,
whispering that I should make myself scarce while Maggie was here.
She said the girl was very shy and my presence would only make her
nervous. Obviously, my mother had mistaken the tension in the room
as fear. But I figured it was for the best, and I relegated myself
to the confines of my room. I probably would have made a fool of
myself and followed Maggie room to room had I been left to my own
devices, anyway.

I just hadn’t anticipated the kind of torture this
would be—holing myself up in here when all I wanted was to be out
there.

I blew the air from my lungs, tossed the ball up
again, and missed it when a light tapping sounded at my door. I
jerked to sitting. “Yeah?”

The door barely cracked open an inch, and Maggie
peered through the gap.

I couldn’t help the smile from tugging at the corner
of my mouth, my voice a little rough when I wheezed out a relieved,
“Hey.” I couldn’t see her face, couldn’t read her expression, but I
felt the hesitation in her presence. “You can come in,” I said,
shifting forward to sit at the edge of the bed.

Shuffling in, she held her head low, insecurity
woven through every awkward movement she made. Those locks of
auburn hair I couldn’t get off my mind fell in a cascade around
each side of her face. So soft, I’d bet. I fucking hated it that
she used it as a wall.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she all but whispered as
she trained her attention on the carpet and tugged at the hem of
her shirt, “but this is the last room.”

I looked around the bedroom I’d only inhabited for
the last four days. I couldn’t stand the idea of her cleaning up
after me. “It’s not really dirty. I’ve only been back for a few
days.”

“Oh…” Her eyes jittered around the room, never at
me, the brief second of openness we’d shared earlier at the front
door seemingly erased. She began to back away. “I’ll…just…” She
stammered and motioned behind her before she stopped and squeezed
her eyes shut in a visible cringe. Then she spun away from me and
took two hurried steps toward the door.

Shit
.

I’d embarrassed her, made her feel unwanted in the
very place I wanted her to be.

“Wait,” I called just as she reached the door. She
seemed to waver between running and staying, her hand trembling on
the doorknob when she stalled in the doorway. “Please,” I begged to
her back, although I really didn’t know what I was begging for. All
I knew was I couldn’t watch her go.

Uncertainty stretched tight between us, a twisted
ribbon taut with longing, fear, and need. Every part of me knew she
was forbidden, that her heart already belonged to whatever shit
she’d been put through in her life, but I couldn’t stop myself from
wanting her to stay.

Even from behind, I saw her breaths came in an
exaggerated rise and fall of her chest, as if she had to put
everything she had into each one just to stay alive. The movement
felt calculated when she finally turned. She reached a hand out to
brace herself against the jamb.

“Thank you,” was all she said, but I heard so much
more. Saw it in the warmth of her eyes.

I pressed my lips together, trying to rein in the
emotion that raced ahead of me.

“I’d do it again,” I said, a promise from where I
looked up at her from my bed. Standing up for her had been no
mistake. I’d never felt stronger about anything in my life.

Maggie chewed at her bottom lip and dropped her
gaze, before she raised it to meet mine. “I know you would.”

From across the room, we stared at each other.
Tenderness filled her expression, the sadness that normally aged
her eyes softening and warming.

In the handful of times I’d seen her this week, I’d
never witnessed her like this. Vulnerable, yes. But this was
different. From behind the wall that she hid, I was able to see
her
, what I’d glimpsed from across the fire over the
weekend.

Shy. Sweet. Good.

The fullness present in my chest for the last four
days hummed and heightened, grew to fill places I didn’t know
existed.

Was it wrong that all I wanted to do was kiss
her?

I smiled, and Maggie blushed.

Oh God. So cute.

I knew then, I’d give this girl anything she asked
me for. I’d probably beg her to take it.

The next Tuesday, the doorbell rang fifteen minutes
earlier than it had one week before. From the kitchen, I yelled, “I
got it.”

I rushed across the room, hoping to beat Mom to the
door.

During the last week, I’d only seen her once—on
Saturday night. Blake had talked me into going to one of his
friend’s parties. It hadn’t taken much prodding, a night out with
my brother and the chance of catching a glimpse of Maggie a win-win
for me. Of course, I hadn’t counted on the way I’d feel when she
walked through the door with her hand in Troy’s, trailing two steps
behind him.

Seeing the two of them together had sparked a
possessive anger just as strong as what I’d felt the weekend
before, and from the expression on Troy’s face, his anger hadn’t
dissipated any, either. I’d had to endure a night of Troy
continually glaring at me, as if searching
me
for wrong,
while Maggie never looked in my direction. Even though I sought it,
waiting for the perfect moment to approach her, none had ever come.
She was closed off, a silent adornment affixed to Troy’s side. If
possible, her unease had been greater than it was at the bonfire,
her posture defeated and ashamed.

From across the room I’d cursed and berated myself
for being so
stupid
to believe there was some kind of
connection between Maggie and me. I was beginning to think I left
every ounce of common sense I had back at college, because I wasn’t
sure if I’d had a rational thought since I crossed the Mississippi
state line.

Until I caught her face through the front window as
she’d followed Troy out. Soft eyes locked on mine as she walked
passed, shame still present in the heaviness of her shoulders, but
that same tenderness abounding in her gaze.

That tenderness had been directed at me.

Raking my hair back from my face, I pulled open my
front door.

From behind the screen door, Maggie looked up.
Surprise flitted across her features when she realized it was me,
before a shy smile took its place. She chewed on the outside of her
bottom lip and rocked onto the outside of her shoes.

She was nervous. And so unbelievably cute.

“Hey, Maggie. Come on in,” I said as I stepped
forward and opened the screen door, losing control of my thoughts
when she glanced up at me from the side as she entered. She must
have just showered. Her hair was damp, the smell of shampoo and
soap and everything I wanted to sink my nose into powerful as she
passed by.

She stopped just inside, her attention bouncing
around the living room before she turned to face me.

I shifted, wanting to say so many things, but
finally settled on a simple, “How are you?”

She smiled her shy smile and said, “I’m all
right.”

It felt as if we’d shared so much, even though the
only time we’d ever spoken had been in my room last week. The
casual words we spoke seemed to mean more, like they ran deeper
than a nonchalant hello.

“Is your Mom expecting me?”

“Yeah.” I closed the door. “She’s upstairs. She
didn’t think you’d be here until noon.”

Maggie blushed, this time she turned beet red.
“Oh...I’m sorry. I was just—”

“It’s okay,” I cut her off. I didn’t dare tell her
she’d spared me the minutes waiting for her to arrive. “She’ll be
down in a minute. Can I get you something? A soda or some
water?”

Maggie emitted an almost surprised laugh under her
breath and shook her head. “No, but thank you, William. That’s
really nice.”

I shrugged. “Not a big deal. Just let me know if you
need anything, okay?”

That tenderness came flooding back. The feeling it
gave me was fast becoming addictive.

“Okay,” she said.

Inclining my head, I smiled, my fingers itching to
reach out and run through her hair.

“Oh, Maggie, I didn’t know that was you at the
door,” Mom said as she appeared at the top of the stairs. She
plodded down and stood at the bottom, giving me a look that said it
was time I excused myself.

Maggie fidgeted, a timid smile on her face as she
looked between my mother and me.

“I’d better let you get to work,” I finally
conceded, making a move to cross to the stairs, pausing beside Mom.
“It was nice to see you again, Maggie.”

“It was nice to see you too.” She extended a little
wave, and I smiled again as I headed upstairs, counting the minutes
until I knew she’d come to my room.

Mom wasn’t joking when she said I’d turned into a
slob. By the time I gathered all the dirty clothes from the floor
and piled them in the hamper, threw away the wrappers I left
crumpled around the room, and made my bed, the vacuum was whirring
in Blake’s room.

Anticipation stirred, expectation igniting through
my body as I thought of her being just down the hall. So close. I
hated the blaring voice that reminded me just how far from my grasp
she really was. The way she’d acted on Saturday night had proven
it. Still, I wanted her near.

That voice was forgotten when she knocked on my
door.

“Come in.”

This time she wasn’t so reserved when she opened it,
but allowed herself to quietly appraise my room.

“You are either one of the cleanest guys I’ve ever
met, or you just picked up your room before I got here so I didn’t
have to do it,” she finally said with a slight tease winding
through her tone. She glanced at me with the sweetest grin as she
set a plastic bucket of cleaning supplies on the floor, then she
stepped out to pull the vacuum in behind her.

I dropped my head, chuckling under my breath, before
I dragged my hair out of my face and looked up at her from where I
sat in the middle of my bed. “No, not the cleanest guy in the
world.”

“Thought so.” There was still that timidity about
her, a sadness that emanated in her movements and in her words, but
something about her felt different today. It felt like maybe she
wanted to show me the girl I’d already seen, the one she hid from
everyone else.

I knew what the town said about her and about her
family. How much of it was true and what had been fabricated to
sate the gossips’ thirst, I wasn’t sure. Clearly, she was shy,
self-conscious, and insecure. But Maggie was no cliché.

“Do you want me to get out of your way?” I asked as
I scooted back further in my bed, having no intention of making
good on my offer and praying she’d want me to stay as much as I
wanted to.

“It’s up to you. You’re not bothering me.” She knelt
down to plug in the vacuum. “Just give me a couple of minutes and
I’ll be out of your hair.”

She laughed when I returned her words. “Stay as long
as you need. You’re not bothering me.”

“All right, then.”

She flipped on the switch, the vacuum a dull roar as
she pushed it back and forth in an overlapping pattern across my
floor, every few seconds glancing up at me, that bottom lip between
her teeth.

It was all too much, and not nearly enough, Maggie
in my room, the energy in the air charged but relaxed. A heated
calm. The motor hummed, and I leaned against my headboard and
watched as she moved. I could feel it radiating from her,
everything I felt, this invisible bond being forged between us.