Page 52 of A Little Jaded
Okay, what a gross metaphor.
Doesn’t mean it isn’t fitting, though.
Still, I do believe Ophelia. And if she thinks Maverick won’t say anything to his parents, I do, too.
With a deep breath, I announce, “Maverick’s welcome whenever he wants.” I hesitate. “But maybe don’t invite his parents?”
The girls laugh, each sharing a knowing look as Dylan grabs some glasses from the cabinet and Ophelia reaches for the Diet Coke. “Don’t worry, Raine. We love our parents andknow they’d do anything for us, but we also know what it’s like to make decisions they might not understand.”
“And I know you might not know us very well,” Dylan adds, “But we’re good at keeping secrets.”
“And we’re good at having each others’ backs, too,” Ophelia murmurs.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
“And now…” Finley pops a Cheeto into her mouth. “We veg.”
It’sa solid hour later when the familiar knock of knuckles against wood echoes through the house. With a grin, Ophelia jumps to her feet and practically skips toward the door, returning with Maverick a minute later.
I wasn’t kidding when I said our families aren’t very close. Or at least not compared to my dad and his roommates from college. But still. His mom is my dad’s best friend’s niece. It might be a smaller branch of the family tree, but it connects us nonetheless.
Please don’t say anything.
My stomach knots as I peek over at him, offering a pathetic wave.
He lifts his chin in greeting, then plops down on the couch as Ophelia sits right next to him. Slipping off his shoes, he sets his feet on the coffee table and makes himself comfortable asGame of Thronesplays on the television. It was Dylan’s choice. Apparently, Reeves has been begging her to watch the series for a while now, and they’re already in season three. After giving me a quick recap that included a whiteboard and a very twisted family tree, we pushed play, stocked up on snacks, and got comfy on the couch. It’s been nice.
Relaxing.
I haven’t had a day like this in…I don’t even know how long.
But what I like even more is Maverick’s lack of interrogation. I’ve always known my cousin was a good guy, but he proved it all over again, and I kind of want to hug him for it.
“I’m gonna make some popcorn,” he announces a little while later. “Do any of you want some?”
“I’ll help you,” I offer. Standing up, I wipe my sweaty palms against my leggings and follow him to the kitchen. It feels awkward and forced, but I don’t see this conversation not having both feelings no matter how long I put this off, so I pull my big girl panties up and rip the whole thing off like a Band-Aid.
When I reach the kitchen, I tuck my hands into my elbows, and my lips scrunch on one side. I’m unsure what to do or say now that I’m actually standing here.
With a smirk, he glances at me. “Is this you helping?”
I clear my throat, grab a bowl from one of the cabinets, and hand it to him.
“Thanks.” Plastic crinkles as he rips the popcorn open and sets the trifold bag into the microwave, slapping it closed and pressing the popcorn button. Turning back to me, he murmurs, “A little birdie told me I’m not allowed to pry.”
“Yeah, well, the little birdie is very kind to stand up for me.”
He smiles. “She’s a goose. And geese can be pretty, uh,” he scratches the scruff of his jaw, “overbearing sometimes.”
My mouth lifts. “I can imagine. Speaking of overbearing…you’ve met my family, Mav. You really don’t think my dad or brother would kill Drake if they found out about what he’s been doing to me?”
His brows pull. “They love you.”
“I know they do,” I rush out. “And I know they’d doanything for me, and I mean anything.” I tug at the edge of my sleeves and squeeze them in my fists as I stare at the granite countertop. “But you know my dad, let alone Dodge.”
He chuckles softly. “Yeah, your older brother’s something else.”
“He’s insane, Mav.”