Scared of Beautiful (Scared #1)(39)

I stiffly sit on the couch, and Maia chooses the one opposite from me, I suspect because it’s also furthest from me. “I just want to explain, Maia, and hopefully say some of the things I didn’t before you left Georgia. I get that you may not believe me, but at least hear me out, please. Or at least try.” I sound like a punk, I feel like I’m begging for my life, and if she wasn’t so important to me, there’s no f-ucking way this would be happening.

“I promised Jade I’d talk to you,” she says flatly. I open my mouth to continue but before I do, she cuts me off. “But before you start, there is no us Jackson. There can’t be. Even if I believe you, I can’t trust you.”

I suddenly feel dejected, as though this conversation has very little purpose if that’s how she feels. But she needs to know. I need her to know.

“I spoke to Emmanuel, well, I knocked him out first, then spoke to him when he came to. He planted that photo, Maia. I was passed out. The joint was laced with something else, which is why I did pass out. He snapped the photo of me and Amber while I was incapacitated. He and the boys helped me to the car and we drove home. Emmanuel screwed Amber that night, not me. I wasn’t even conscious!”

My voice raises an octave or two at the end as I ramble out the rest of the story. “I refused the weed at first. Emmanuel had set me up to meet Amber before we even got there.” Maia’s eyes drop to the floor. That came out wrong “Without my knowledge. He hates the fact that I left to come here. He figured if he got rid of you, I might change my mind about Brown and come back home.” I take a breath, waiting apprehensively for what Maia will say about this total f-uck up.

“So nothing happened with you and that girl. And Emmanuel planned this whole thing. I thought you were friends, why would he do that if you were happy?” Maia’s question is accusatory.

“We were friends,” I correct.

“Jackson, the way I felt back there, I can’t feel that way, and the way I feel…felt, about you. It’s a risk I don’t want to take.” Maia’s words are confident, but her voice breaks ever so slightly at the end of the sentence.

Without hesitation, I walk over and stand her up in front of me. “I promised you that I would try never to hurt you intentionally. And I did. I am so f-ucking sorry that this happened. You shouldn’t forgive me for making you feel the way you did. Hell, I don’t forgive myself. I would pull down every f-ucking star in the sky to prove to you that I love you. I would do just about anything to go back to last week. Tell me what you want me to do. What fixes this?”

I don’t care that I’m begging anymore, or that I’m pouring the whole contents of my soul into these words. My hand reaches up to wipe away the tears that stream down Maia’s face. I hate myself for making her cry, hate myself for the stupid decisions I made.

“No,” she whispers quietly without looking up. “Jackson you don’t understand. I’ll run every time there’s a problem, even a small one. I’ll hide behind myself and you deserve more than that.” Her eyes brim with more unshed tears as she stares at me in anguish.

“There is no one better for me than you. Please, Maia,” I plead, cupping her face in my hands.

“You have to go,” she answers quietly. I bend down to kiss her gently on the cheek, lingering, knowing that this is the last time I’ll do it, and wordlessly, turn around and leave.

Jade walks up the stairs as I’m leaving, and momentarily considers stopping to talk before seeing the devastated look on my face, and decides against it. Jade knows me well enough to give me my space in this moment. I stuff my hands deep into my pockets as I walk to the Mustang. Maia’s wrong. I never deserved her. I never fit into this lifestyle. She deserves someone that can keep up the life she’s used to. I have to hustle to take her out to dinner. She’s probably better off with someone like that Bryce guy. I don’t know why the f-uck I was trying to fool myself into believing that I was anything better than a common thug.

* * *

Days turn into weeks. Turns out that my solution was to throw myself back into college. It’s easy, when you never leave your dorm room except to go to classes, to kill it in exams. Who knew? But try as I may, I don’t seem to run into Maia. It was futile, I guess, hoping that serendipity would play a hand in making sure that she was reminded daily just how much we needed each other. But no. I spend more than my fair share of time at the library, loitering and waiting, and I do the same at the Clever Bean. I walk purposely past her apartment block with the hope that in a pathetic movie made moment, she’ll come running out the door, our bodies would collide, and books would fly everywhere. Sadly that doesn’t happen either. Joining the intramural basketball team at Brown keeps me occupied, but since joining, I haven’t landed a three point shot at all, not one.

Weeks pass this way, and every day I fight the urge to walk up to Maia’s apartment door. I hope that this void that seems to now be a permanent part of my person will ease, and eventually dissipate. Again, no luck. I miss her every goddamn day. I don’t even have a single sighting until a week before winter break when, cold and sweaty from a 2 on 2 basketball game, I finally see her walking towards the Arts Building. Now or never, Jackson. I curse quietly, mainly because I’m nervous as all f-ucking hell, apprehensive because there is a very strong possibility that she’ll blow me off, or be just plain f-ucking angry at my sweaty disposition.