Page 38 of Bitter Beats

Because if I give him an inch, he’ll take more than a mile. He’ll take everything.

His hands, big and callused and firm, latch onto my shoulders. “Look at me.” He gives me a little shake.

I drag my eyes up over his thick thighs, his lean and toned torso, and the flare of his broad, muscular shoulders. Over hisbobbing Adam’s apple and chiseled jawline, his perfectly shaped mouth that’s both endearing and sardonic.

His blue eyes are two pools of concern, edged in a wariness that looks foreign on him.

“I want you to be honest,” he replies calmly.

“I don’t like you,” I remind him.

“You do a little bit,” he argues.

I snort, rolling my eyes at the truth in his statement. “Not enough todateyou.”

“But enough to live with me?”

“Maverick,” I scold him.

“Mckenna. Please.”

My eyes widen. “You’re really this desperate?” I shake my head. “I’m not good girlfriend material. I’m focused on school and overwhelmed half the time. I’m opinionated and stubborn, and…well, I’m not fun. At least, not the kind of fun you like.”

His lips twitch, one side of his mouth curling. His fingertips dig into my shoulders. “What else?”

“I like early mornings. I live on caffeine. I don’t trust easily, and I hate letting people in.” I arch my eyebrows. “My family life is a mess. Hell, my entire life is falling apart. Trust me, you don’t want me.”

“But that’s just it,” he murmurs.

“What?” I shake my head.

“I trust you.” His voice is solemn, and his eyes are serious. Truthful.

“Why?” I wonder. Especially when I’ve explicitly told him that Idon’ttrust him.

“Because you’re loyal. You’re a solid friend. You’re determined and disciplined and honest.”

I tilt my head, wondering if I’m still asleep. Is Maverick really complimenting me? This cannot be real life; this doesn’t make sense.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he chortles. “Even though we have our differences, and there are many of them,” he concedes as I open my mouth to argue. “There’s still a level of…respect between us.”

My mouth snaps shut. Because he’s right.

“Whatever you need financially, whatever the reason is that you’re working so many hours at the café, I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of you.”

“I don’t need?—”

“If you do this for me, help me improve my image and reputation, help me not blow up the fucking band, I’ll make sure you have the time you need to study. The opportunity to intern, clinic, or whatever the hell Aiden was talking about.”

I bite the corner of my lip.

“What are your reservations?” he asks, more curious than frustrated by my silence.

For a moment, a mere blink, we’re back in this kitchen months ago, establishing our ground rules for living together. How did so much change in such a short amount of time?

“It seems…unfair. Like, I’m getting a handout.”

Mav snorts. “Trust me, you’re not. You think you’re not good girlfriend material? I am the worst fucking boyfriend candidate on the planet.”

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