Page 175 of Face Off
Me
Not bad. The guy next to me didn’t eat an onion sandwich this time, so that was a plus.
Pretty Boy
An onion sandwich? Sounds disgusting.
Me
You have no idea.
What are you doing?
Pretty Boy
Come and find out.
I frown and read his message twice.
Me
Am I supposed to understand what that means?
Maverick doesn’t answer, and I walk toward the beds, trying to decipher his riddle. Something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye, and when I look up, I scream.
Maverick is sprawled across the mattress with his hands behind his head and his feet crossed at his ankles.
“Took you long enough,” he draws out, giving me a lazy grin.
“What… what the fuck are you doing here?”
“Come on, Emmy girl.” He swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands. “You didn’t think I’d let you spend your first night in a new city all alone, did you?”
“How—when—did you teleport here?” I look around, wondering if I’m hallucinating. “I am in Toronto, right?”
“You are.” His dimples pop, and his laugh is soft and sweet. “I took a private jet. Being rich as fuck comes in handy sometimes. Like when you want to fly to a different country two minutes after your girlfriend walks into the airport.”
I gape at him, trying to find something to say, but not a single word comes out.
“Come here, baby,” he says, breaking the silence, and I run to him.
I jump into his arms and he spins me around, his hand at the small of my back and his mouth warm on my cheek.
“This is the best surprise,” I whisper, and I pull away to look at him. “What are you going to do about practice tomorrow?”
“Coach is giving me a personal day. He said it’s a trade-off for not having to read about my personal affairs on gossip websites anymore. Positive reinforcement for keeping my dick in mypants in public. I’ll go back to DC Friday morning, and then it’s only a few more days until I see you again. It’s going to fly by.”
“I’m overwhelmed.” I sniff and shake my head. “I never doubted you, not for a second, Maverick Miller. But this is next level.”
“Flying to see my girlfriend isn’t a chore, Emmy girl. It’s a privilege, and just more nice things you deserve.”
I see a lone tear hanging on the end of his eyelashes and kiss it away. “You feel like a dream.”
“Look who’s talking.” He rubs my shoulder. “I booked another room in case you wanted some space to unwind without me breathing down your neck.”
“The last thing I want from you is space. You’re not going anywhere, pretty boy.”
Maverick drags me to the bed, and we collapse onto the mattress in a mess of limbs. “I love you, Emmy girl.”
