“Don’t say that. Forget everything I said in the past five minutes. Start over. Ask me to be your boyfriend.” He closes the distance between us and frames my face with his hands. “Ask me, Genevieve,” he pleads.

He makes a strangled sound deep in his throat as I pull away and finish getting dressed, tossing the T-shirt of his I was wearing on the bed, yanking on my own clothes, and slipping into my shoes. I think he might say something else to try to stop me, but he doesn’t. He just watches me prepare to leave, looking helpless. Before I go, I have to say it at least once—out loud and to him, if only for myself.

“I love you, Heath.” He flinches. “I’m sorry if that’s too much for you to deal with, but I do, and I don’t want to just forget it.”

36

HEATH

“I haven’t been this hungover in years.” Mav drops on the couch and chugs half the Gatorade bottle in his hand with one long drink. “Getting drunk after being sick and hardly eating all week, I’ve basically got the tolerance of a high school chick.”

I’m silent and he nudges my foot on the coffee table. “What’s up with you? You’ve been quiet all morning.”

“I’m fine.”

“Girl fine or really fine?”

“I said I was fine.”

His brows lift and he smiles, but he drops it. He finishes off his drink and stands. “Ready to go to campus? I’m starving.”

“Let’s go out for breakfast today instead of the dining hall.”

“Yeah, that sounds rad. I want pancakes. Text Ginny and we can swing by and pick her up.”

“She doesn’t want to come.”

“What? Of course she does. I’ll text her.”

“No, don’t. We’re not… she’s…” Jesus, I can’t even finish a sentence that puts an end to whatever we were.

Maverick stops and the hand holding his phone falls to his side. “What the fuck did you do, Payne?”

I’d like to resent his automatic assumption that I’m at fault, but of course I am. I let out a giant sigh. “I’ll tell you over pancakes.”

He doesn’t press me to talk until we’ve both got a heaping stack of pancakes on our plates. Only then does he ask what happened. I fill him in on last night, unable to eat more than a bite or two.

“That’s cold.”

“What was I supposed to say?”

“I’m not sure.” He shrugs and takes a large bite of his food. He looks thoughtful as he chews and then swallows. “You really think love is bullshit?”

“Don’t you?” If anyone would understand, I figured it’d be Maverick. His childhood was as fucked up as mine, just in a totally different way.

“No, man. Love is beautiful.”