Maverick
The thing about Malia was she thought she was so good at hiding.
She walked into the kitchen in the morning, hair looking half dried like she hadn’t used a blow dryer, and she didn’t even look at me.
She just dropped her bag on the counter like I didn’t exist, but I caught her ears flush pink when she passed too close to me. That was the tell. The heat always hit her skin before it hit her voice, and once you noticed it, you couldn’t unsee it.
It was like she was broadcasting in neon, and I was the only one tuned in.
Every time she pretended to ignore me, I caught her glancing. Every time I leaned in too close, just to watch her shoulders lock tight, I knew she felt me. I knew she was thinking about it even when she wanted to shove it into the darkest corner of her brain.
An
