Page 79 of Maid of Dishonor

But she hasn’t. Not that I know of, anyway.

She sighs, blowing a few strands of hair out of her face in the process. “I just feel…stuck,” she says. “And undecided. I’m annoyed at myself. I’m annoyed at Chet.” She pauses, then adds, “I guess I’m just kind of annoyed all around.”

“I’m sorry, Maya,” I say, wincing. “I’m so sorry.” I hesitate, then go on, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Maya just shrugs. “I’m just trying to make some tough decisions right now,” she says quietly. “And I think—I think I want Chet to be someone he isn’t, and I’m trying not to let wishful thinking cloud my judgment.” She sighs. “I’ve just been feeling so…sodesperate.I’m so out of my depth, and I want someone to be with me.” Her eyes flash to me before flitting away again, and I can see the vulnerability there, as well as the desire to be understood.

I feel a thread of relief when I see that, because I want to help her, and this is something I can do: I can provide the validation she needs. “That’s understandable,” I say. “And I don’t blame you. You’re in a tough situation. I don’t think anyone would fault you for feeling a little lost, and it’s totally normal that you want someone to be with you.”

She exhales loudly before nodding. “Thanks.” Then she shrugs and says, “I’ll figure it out. And I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay,” she corrects herself, rubbing her stomach. Then she looks at me. “But let’s talk about you.” She pins me with a look before saying, “What’s going on with you and Carter?”

I blink at her. “What?”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on. You guys have been different lately. There’s more tension than usual between you—and not the bad kind.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, and I laugh.

“Nothing is going on with us,” I say, but judging by Maya’s raised eyebrow, she knows it’s only half true. “Okay,” I amend, finding myself strangely willing to talk about it. “Nothingofficialis going on with us. And it’s all very confusing, anyway.”

Maya leans forward. “All right,” she says seriously. “Tell meeverything.”

And so I do. I start with our rock-solid friendship and move on to the way things have been changing, and then I tell her about the last talk he and I had.

“And now he’s sending me flowers every day, and he sent me a goldfish too, but he hasn’t actually talked to me. I asked him for space, so I think that’s what’s going on, but…if he’s giving me space, he wouldn’t be giving me flowers, right? So I’m a little confused, and basically I’m trying not to think too much about it until I hear from him.” I give a tired little laugh, shaking my head. “Maybe I should just take Wini up on the dermatologist she wanted to set me up with. She said he had dreamy eyes,” I joke, shrugging.

I mean, no one’s eyes will ever be as dreamy as Carter’s. But Wini doesn’t know that.

Maya nods sympathetically. “Well, give him a little time. He’ll figure things out. You know you have to be patient with him.”

I nod back. “Yeah, I know.” My voice is heavy, but I don’t bother trying to fake lightness.

“I’m going to use the restroom,” Maya says abruptly, unpausing the movie. “You keep watching. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“That’s fine,” I say as she stands and heads out of the room. I don’t bother watching the film; instead I just let my eyes wander over her living room, wondering exactly how patient I’m going to need to be before Carter makes up his mind, and wondering if maybe I should just end this stalemate and call him.

Twenty-Two

Carter

It has beensix days since Sam asked me for space. In that time, I have picked up the phone to call her seventeen times. Through herculean shows of strength, I have managed to resist. I am now a man wandering in the desert, surviving only on the scent of her shampoo in my shower and a series of selfies she left on my phone a few weeks ago when I wasn’t in the room. Tomorrow morning, though? Tomorrow morning, most likely obscenely early, I will go to Sam and tell her how I feel.

I’m only a little ashamed to say that I already have my clothes picked out. But really, when she’s complimented one specific shirt multiple times, I’d be stupid not to wear it. It’s just a plain white shirt, but I guess she likes it. If it will help my cause, I’m on board.

I’ve been trying to approach this the right way, but truthfully, I have no clue what I’m doing. She said she wanted space, so I’m giving her that—which is good, right? Respecting her wishes? Of course it is. I’ve been tempted every day just to barge on over, but the internet assures me this is a bad idea. So in the meantime, I’ve been sending her flowers, because she loves them, and a goldfish, because even though she’s never had a pet, I know she would love it. That fish probably has a ridiculous name by now, and he’s probably being smothered with adoration.

That makes one of us.

When my phone rings in the early evening, I almost spill my bowl of pasta in my attempt to answer quickly. Setting it aside, I leave the table and look around the living room, finally spotting the phone on the sofa. I wouldn’t quite describe my movements asdiving, but it’s definitely inlungeterritory. I lunge for the phone, because maybe this is Sam, and maybe I can go see her, and maybe—

Oh. My heart deflates when I see Maya’s name flash across the screen.

“Hey, Maya,” I say, trying to sound natural and not like I’m severely disappointed to be talking to her.

“Look, flowers and goldfish are all well and good, but you need to step it up. Like, now,” she says, forgoing greetings and niceties.

I frown, and it takes me a second to process what she’s saying. “What?” Then it sinks in. “Wait, how did you know—”

“She’s at my house right now,” Maya cuts me off. Her voice is strange—low and barely above a whisper. “I’m pretending to go to the bathroom so I can sneak off and call you instead. I am breaking sacred girl code for you, Carter, because I love you and want you to be happy.”

A trickle of fear snakes its way down my spine. “I appreciate that. Now what’s wrong?” I say, starting to pace. “Did she say something?”

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