Breaking The Rules

Chapter 23

My legs were beginning to tingle from the way I was sitting on my bed. For the third time that afternoon I considered migrating over to the desk up against the only window in the room. But everytime I peered over, Oliver was lounging. Sunbathing an even more adorable pose than the last time I checked on him. I wasn't some kind of monster.

I removed the overheating laptop from my legs, placing it next to me so I could stretch out my aching limbs. I decided to switch up positions, laying on my side and trying to work on my assignment that way. That lasted for a few minutes before the front door slammed closed. I waited, listening to see if I could figure out who had come home. Wondering if that person was Maverick.

I hadn't seen him since the early morning hours. When the shadows still danced across his walls. My mind kept drifting back to what we did. The line we crossed.

More like bulldozed.

I definitely saw it now. There was a reason he was so popular with the ladies on campus. Women talk. And after last night, I knew exactly why he was the talk of the town. For someone who came off as such a misogynist, he really did know how to put a woman first. Not once had Miles ever offered to use toys with me––not even on the rare nights that I built up the courage to suggest it. It didn't take a genius to realize he viewed it as competition. Maverick, on the other hand, used it like a tag-team partner.

But as grateful as I was for the experience, I was also glad Maverick hadn't been there when I woke up. It would've made things more complicated, and I wasn't about to drag us both through that. I'd gotten Maverick out of my system, and he'd shown me exactly what I needed to see.

I forced myself to refocus on my assignment, fingers tapping out notes as I read through the material, but the sound of my phone buzzing broke my concentration once again. Frowning at my laptop screen, I answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Celeste."

My fingers froze on my keyboard. The voice on the other end was mistakable. I glanced down at where my phone rested by my forearm. I could have sworn I still had his number blocked.

And I had.

No Caller I.D. flashed across the top and I wanted to groan in frustration. Why hadn't I checked before answering like I usually did?

My stomach tightened. "What do you want, Miles?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

There was a pause, and then he let out a sigh, like he was trying to sound regretful. "I told you. I miss you. And after seeing you yesterday, I realize that even more," he started. "I was wondering if you wanted to hang out, grab coffee or something. Like we used to."

I rolled my eyes, taking the phone off speaker and pressing it to my ear as I shifted into a sitting position. It was much easier to keep up the attitude when he wasn't standing right in front of me. "No. I don't think that's a good idea."

"Celeste, come on," he replied, his tone softening, like he was coaxing me. "You're blowing this whole thing out of proportion. We were together a long time; we can still be friends."

"No," I said, firmer this time. "I don't think we can."

There was a beat of silence, and then his tone shifted, the softness giving way to something colder, sharper. "So that's it? You think you're the shit now because you live with a house full of hockey guys? You really think any of them give a damn about you? They'll get tired of you soon enough, trust me. They'll kick you out the second they realize what a high-maintenance mess you are."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, dredging up every insecurity, every hurt that he'd carved into me during our relationship. The familiar doubts he'd planted all came rushing back, and for a second, I felt small. Exposed. Maybe he was right.

No.

This was Miles throwing a temper tantrum for not getting what he wanted. It had nothing to do with me and everything to do with me.

I gripped my phone tightly, glaring at my laptop screen as if it had been the one to personally offend me. "Goodbye, Miles."

Without waiting for a response, I hung up, my hands shaking as I dropped the phone onto the bed. The weight of his words hung over me, and I tried to shove it back in the little box I had stuffed those memories into. Tried to remind myself that he had no hold over me anymore. But it was hard to shake off the feeling of self-doubt he always managed to stir up.

Just when I felt like I was healing he showed up and ripped the bandaid away.

Oliver heard my bedroom door open before I did. He plopped him down to the floor, moving into a long stretch before going over and weaving himself through my visitor's legs. I winced as tufts of his fur began to decorate the dark navy sweatpants.

While Maverick did get Oliver back from the shelter, I don't know if he had signed up for his clothes being covered in cat hair for as long as we continued to live here.

Maybe even after.

But to my surprise, Maverick––deadpan face and all––bent down and brought Oliver to his chest. The room was soon alight with purring as his tattooed fingers massaged magical circles into the side of my cat's neck.

Oh, trust me. I was well aware of how well those things worked.

I had been staring for way too long before Maverick started speaking. "Who were you on the phone with?"

The question caught me off guard. Were the walls in this house really that paper thin? But even if they were, since when did Maverick care about who I spent time on the phone with?

"That doesn't––"

"What did he say to you?" he asked, his tone quiet but full of steel.

It almost made me laugh. This larger than life, tattooed hockey player, who was acting like someone had pissed in his cereal this morning. While he cuddled a purring Oliver.

The stare he was giving me had a shiver wrack through my body. I glanced back at the glowing laptop screen. "Nothing I haven't heard before."

Maverick didn't move, his gaze unwavering as he took in my expression. "Celeste, he's trying to mess with you—"

"I know," I replied with a shaky smile. "He caught me off guard with No Caller I.D. It won't happen again."

And it wouldn't. Despite Miles acting like he still had a chance to patch things up with me, I knew that couldn't have been further from the truth. Images of him outside the dance studio flashed into my memory. Then downstairs in the foyer at my birthday-party-gone-array. His persistence was getting a little too close for comfort. And while I knew it was against his nature, I hope he got the hint soon,

"Come on." Maverick dropped Oliver to the floor, all four little feet hitting the floor with a light thud.

My eyebrows shot up towards my hairline, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Where are we going?"

Maverick turned his back to me, already heading towards the door. "To clear your head."

_ _ _ _ _

author's note:

It's one of those busy weeks. I'm counting down the days until Winter Break. I don't think I've felt more burnt out than I have this year lol it's been nonstop since the wedding. I'm in need of a vacation.

I hope you're having an amazing week!

Happy reading!