Page 26 of The Overdue Kiss

“Oh, no, no.” She holds up her hands, warding me off. “I’m not interested in dating.”

Well... this isn’t the reaction I was expecting.

“Please don’t be upset with me. It isn’t your fault. It’s me—1000 percent me. I guess I need to rip the wound open anyway. Remember Felipe?” She takes a deep breath, trying to compose herself and failing. “After years of dating, to the point that I thought last Christmas he might actually pop the question, I caught him making out with his co-worker.”

“Maya—‍”

She holds up a hand, rushing to continue. “The worst part is that he blamed me. Said it was my fault for his infidelity. All the books I’d read created some unrealistic version of love that he could never live up to. Then he said it felt like a chore to be with me and how our relationship wasn’t exciting anymore. He even pointed out the fact I’d gained some extra weight and he wasn’t attracted to me?—‍”

I cup her jaw, startling her into silence, and tilt her face upward so she could see me, to stare deep in my eyes and I know what I’m about to say is the honest-to-God truth.

“He lied.”

Her brown eyes widen, and I’m lost in the liquid pools.

“He did?”

“Oh, yeah.”

My thumb brushes across her jaw like it has a mind of its own. She shivers, her eyes closing for a moment, but she slides from my grasp and takes a shaky breath.

“Just to be clear, I don’t want to be with him anymore. But I also don’t like all the reminders that come with hearing his voice all the time. It’s why I made a New Year’s resolution to not date anyone for a year so I could allow both my heart and mind to heal.”

Tears glisten on her cheeks. Yes, she might be over that man, but the negativity he left behind has grown like weeds, strangling her self-confidence and self-worth.

“I understand.”

“And I’m sorry if I made it seem like I was interested in something besides friendship. Because I do like hanging out with you, Des. I’d hate for this to put a wrench into the start of our new friendship.”

I throw an arm around her shoulders and forcibly swallow my lump of disappointment. “It didn’t. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Really?” She leans into me for a side hug, and I try not to notice how perfectly she fits. “You always know what to say. I’m beginning to think I was meant to break down on the mountain so I could meet you.”

“Me too.”

The awkward tension that was buzzing between us like a persistent mosquito is missing for the rest of the evening. We scarf down buffalo burgers and spicy sweet potato fries under the Colorado stars, swapping life stories between bites. It’s the most I’ve ever spoken outside the classroom.

Most of Maya’s stories revolve around her big family, how she loves them but feels smothered at the same time. I rest my chin on my fist as she describes the first book she fell in love with and confesses that she never returned it to her school library. She pulls out her phone and shyly shows me her social media page where thousands of people follow her, interested in her book recommendations.

My jaw drops a little at the reel of her library. It’s a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf that fills her entire guest room. She wasn’t kidding when she said she was a bookaholic.

I feel almost boring compared to her exciting life. So I start with my basics, how I grew up in Rocosa and, whereas she has an enormous family, mine consists of Reese, who sometimes has massive mood swings like what she witnessed earlier due to her addiction. At her melancholy expression, I quickly pivot to how I knew I always wanted to be a teacher because numbers come so easily to me.

“So you’re like a genius or something?”

“I don’t know if I would say that. I’m just good with numbers.” I shift on the bench, my neck heating the longer she stares.

“What’s 10,393 times 234?”

Numbers appear in my mind, multiplying effortlessly in a calming way. Barely a few seconds pass before I answer with confidence. “2,431,962.”

“No way.Did you make that up? That can’t be right.”

“Check for yourself.”

Maya whips out her phone and punches the numbers into an app. The results jolt her from her seat. “What?You’re a freaking human calculator. How did you do that?”

“I didn’t have a TV or a lot of toys growing up. Numbers were entertaining and consistent for me. I like things that are reliable.” I clear my throat when her brown eyes soften. “It was also a special game between my granny and me. She would randomly quiz me with a problem, similar to what you did. Yours was relatively easy with only two numbers.”

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