Page 6 of Make Me Want it Too

And as I’m walking back to her, it’s déjà vu. Like this could be the first night we met almost six and a half years ago, when she and Bex showed up at my frat’s party sophomore year. She had me captivated then, too. Instantly. From the second she snort laughed and waved off my pickup line as a joke instead of the very serious attempt it was.

After twenty minutes, I was smitten. Head over heels. Ready to forget every other woman on the planet existed just to listen to her talk all night. It was a new experience. One I haven’t had since.

But that night, when I came back after getting her a drink, she was sitting in the corner talking about pre-med shit with Spencer. And she’s been with him ever since.

Spencer hardly ever went to the frat parties. He shouldn’t have been there that night. But I guess they’re a good match. She’s too smart for me, anyway. It probably wouldn’t have worked out past a couple dates. Still, whenever I see them together, something eats at me. Something in the way he talks to her, looks at her—or maybe it’s the way he doesn’t look at her. I don’t know. Makes me wish things were different.

Tonight when I find her to deliver her drink, she’s standing on the outskirts, looking at Bex, who is currently squeezing Livvy. After a moment, Livvy runs back to Noah’s arms and then Bex is bombarded by more friends.

“Why aren’t you over there?” I ask, having to raise my voice over the music.

Macy startles. “Oh gosh, she’s got so many people congratulating her, I’ll go over in a minute.” She smiles, but I know her genuine smile—the one where her eyes sparkle. And this one isn’t that.

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything else?” I ask as I hand her the water.

She shakes her head. “I’m good, thank you. You can go mingle with your friends.”

I swing my head around exaggeratedly, then land back on her. “That’s what I’m doing. You’re my friend, Mace. Right?” I couldn’t give a flying fuck about mingling with anyone else here.

“Oh. I mean, yes, sure.” She smiles but it’s a fake one. Again.

But this time there’s a sadness in her eyes, a slight tremble in her voice.

I lean in so I don’t have to yell. “Is everything all right?”

She looks up at me, eyes wide. “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You don’t seem okay. What’s wrong?”

Macy doesn’t say anything. She tries to smile wider, but the corners of her mouth start to droop, her throat bobs, and she blinks as her eyelids start to fill with quivering tears.

Oh no. Oh fuck.

Fuck.

“Shit, come here.” I scoop her around the back and lead her away from everyone, down the hall to the bedroom.

She bursts into tears as soon as I shut the door behind us. Face in her hands, body-wracking sobs, ugly-crying.

This is not how I envisioned getting Macy alone in a bedroom.

And the room is completely empty. Fuck.

“I’ll be right back,” I say.

I scramble out to the bathroom for some tissues. There aren’t any. I look under the sink. Empty. So I steal the lone roll of toilet paper off the wall and rush back to the room.

“Thanks,” she hiccups, tears running down her cheeks.

Even red and blotchy and blowing snot into three squares of toilet paper, she’s still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.

My chest tightens and I ball my hands into fists, standing here dumbly, not knowing what to do or how to fix this.

“Mace, how can I help you?”

I touch her shoulders and she looks up at me. A moment of silence passes between us and then her expression crumples and I pull her into a hug.

Her face is pressed into me as she sobs against my chest, wetting my shirt. I don’t care. It’s hers. She can do whatever she likes, whatever makes her feel better. I’ll take it off my back and give it to her if that helps.

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