Maggie Norris and Luke Vaudest come with attitudes of stone-cold, rude, sarcastic snakes. Every single time the pair have clashed, it has never ended up being a good thing. The two are more than fine with never crossing paths, again.
Until Maggie d...
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"You never lose by loving. You always lose by holding back." – Barbara De Angelis
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Chapter 46 <—————————————>
Luke
I took my package from the delivery driver with a nod of acknowledgment. "Thanks," I grumbled, earning a sideways glance in return.
I knew I earned it, and why I earned it. I'd been even more of an ass as of late.
Three days ago, I'd nearly fucked with the only good thing I'd ever had going for me.
By nearly kissing Maggie, I somehow created a multitude of disaster. Not to the public, but to myself. I'd say her, too, but she was as cool as a damn cucumber.
After I bitched out of the kiss, I drunk an entire case of beer, stumbled back into bed, then spent the entire night cursing myself while Maggie slept. The next morning, she got out of bed, and remained just as fine. As if nothing happened.
I didn't know why I was so upset about it, since technically, nothing did happen. I was the one who pussied out.
Yet, here I was, seventy-two hours later, and still stuck on the almost-kiss.
I couldn't even recall what, or how I'd been so captivated in her smile, her eyes...her. All I knew was that one moment I was telling myself to run away, to walk off before I gave in, and the next she was staring at my lips the same way I was hers, and I was leaning in.
Then, I chickened out. Like a little bitch.
The only reasoning that made a bit of sense was that...I was too scared of her, of how she looked at me, of how I looked, admired, thought of her.
It wasn't right, not in the slightest.
I'd been fighting a losing battle for so long, it was hard to imagine why I'd ever thought it up in the first place. It was inevitable.
Because, I knew, without a doubt...that I wanted her.
I wanted Maggie. I wanted her like I'd never wanted anything, or anyone in my fucking life.
I wanted her so fucking bad that it hurt.
Her smiles. Her scars. Her laughs. Her snort when she laughs. Her insults. Her dinner conversations. Her funny pronunciations. Her eyes. Her voice.
I wanted it all. I wanted all of her.
I couldn't have her.
It was impossible; it was nearly laughable to even imagine. There was no way in hell that she'd even consider the idea. That she'd even consider me.
