Someone Older

Chapter 23

(I will skip a bit. 5 months. Because I didn't have any ideas for those 5 months)

As the summer wound down and August came to an end, I couldn't help but feel like a different person than I was five months ago. In just two months, I'd be 17, and everything had shifted so much that it was hard to recognize parts of my old life.

Mom had started dating this guy, Paul. He was alright-friendly enough, and he seemed to make her happy, which was the important thing. It was still strange, though, seeing her with someone new. It made me realize how much had changed, not just in her life, but in mine, too.

Marcus and I had grown closer over the summer. We spent a lot of time together-lazy days at the park, going to movies, or just hanging out with friends. It was easy with him. He made me laugh, he listened, and, unlike Maverick, he didn't try to control me. There was something calming about being with someone who didn't expect anything from me.

And then there was Maverick. Or rather, there wasn't. After that last encounter, he had completely cut off contact. He didn't text or try to show up anywhere, and honestly, I didn't reach out either. It was like we had both silently agreed to stay out of each other's lives. At first, it was hard-I had expected him to push back, to demand that we talk or try to see me. But he didn't. And now, months later, it was almost like he had never existed.

When I saw Luther or Willow-Maverick's friends-I would talk to them casually, but Maverick's name never came up. It was an unspoken thing between us, like we all knew it was better not to mention him.

The summer had been mostly good. I kept busy, trying to enjoy myself with friends and pushing away the parts of my past that still haunted me. But there were moments, quiet moments, when I would think about Maverick. About how it all went wrong, and why he had just...vanished. Part of me still wondered if I had done something to make him cut me off, but another part of me knew that it was probably for the best.

One afternoon, Marcus and I were sitting on a bench at the park, the golden light of the setting sun filtering through the trees. He was talking about this road trip he wanted to take before school started again, his voice filled with excitement. I smiled and nodded along, but my mind kept wandering.

I could feel his eyes on me, though, and after a moment, he nudged me lightly with his elbow. "You're quiet today," he said, his tone gentle.

I blinked, realizing I had zoned out again. "Yeah, sorry. Just thinking."

"About what?" he asked, turning his body slightly to face me.

I hesitated for a moment, my smile fading. "Just... things," I said vaguely, not wanting to dive into what was really on my mind. "Nothing big."

Marcus looked at me for a second, as if he could sense there was more to it, but he didn't press. That was one of the things I appreciated about him. He gave me space when I needed it, without making me feel like I had to explain myself.

Marcus nodded, leaning back on the bench, but I could tell he wasn't fully convinced. He didn't push, though, and for that, I was grateful. The silence between us was comfortable, filled with the sounds of the park-kids laughing, the rustling of the leaves in the breeze, and the faint hum of conversations nearby. But my thoughts kept drifting back to Maverick, no matter how hard I tried to shake them off.

Why was I even thinking about him now? It had been months. He'd cut me off, and I had moved on-or at least, I thought I had. Being with Marcus had made things feel easier, lighter, but there was still this nagging feeling I couldn't ignore, this sense that things with Maverick hadn't really ended, not the way they should have.

"Hey," Marcus said, breaking through my thoughts again. "You know if you ever want to talk about... 'things,' I'm here, right?"

I smiled, but it felt a little forced. "Yeah, I know. Thanks, Marcus."

He gave me a soft look, then changed the subject, telling me about some band he'd been listening to lately. I listened, grateful for the distraction, but I couldn't fully shake the weight in my chest. Maverick had been so intense, so consuming, and even though he was gone, the mark he'd left still lingered.

As the sun dipped lower and we decided to head back, I couldn't help but pull out my phone and glance at it-just for a second. No messages, of course. I slipped it back into my pocket, but the familiar disappointment sat heavy in my stomach.

Walking home, Marcus and I chatted casually, but my mind was elsewhere. When we finally said goodbye and I got inside, I leaned against the door for a moment, exhaling deeply.

I knew I couldn't keep doing this-waiting for something that wasn't coming. Maverick was gone, and I had to accept that. But part of me wondered if, deep down, I was still holding on to the hope that he wasn't.