Page 47 of Reaching Avery
“A-a-and you think I can help you?”
“You already have,” he said. His gaze flickered from my eyes and to my lips.
And then he kissed me.
Now, to anyone else I’m sure it would’ve been romantic. The hot guy you’d recently realized you had a thing for said something sweet and then kissed you. A first kiss wassupposedto be awesome and memorable. However, mine would be memorable for a completely different reason.
I punched him.
It was more of an impulsive reaction.
When my fist collided with his cheek, his head snapped to the left and he pulled back with a surprised grunt.
“Oh my god, I’m sorry!” I freaked. “I didn’t mean to!”
Maverick rubbed his cheek and looked at me, shock visible on his handsome face. “What was that for?”
“I… I…”
I didn’t know how to respond.
How could I tell him physical contact made me uncomfortable? That my dad had beat the hell out of me so many times, and when people touched me, it brought back those feelings of being closed in and helpless. Of being the victim.
“No, I’m sorry,” he said, putting more distance between us. “I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. Dammit, I just screwed everything up.” He stood up, but didn’t walk away. “I thought I was getting vibes from you that you liked me, but shit, I was wrong, huh?”
Not liking the rapid height difference, I stood as well. I wasn’t as tall as him, but at least it put us more equal than I’d been on the ground.
“It’s complicated,” I said, shaking my head and taking a step back. Making the gap between us even bigger. He’d taken it as I punched him because I wasn’tintohim, when really it was because being touched caught me off guard and put me in a panicked head space. “I’mcomplicated.”
Something passed across his face.
“So it’s not me?” he asked.
“It’s not you,” I reassured him. “I… I like you, Mav. Probably more than I should. But it just… it can’t happen. I’m sorry.”
Without waiting for a response, I took off into the woods, getting as far from him as I could before I changed my mind.
“Avery?”
I kept walking.
“Hey, don’t go,” he called again. Rustling sounded behind me, as if he was trying to follow me. But I knew my way through the trees, and he didn’t. “Avery!”
Picking up my pace, I jogged through the dark. His calls echoed behind me, but then they drifted off before stopping all together. My eyes stung as I made my way through the dense woods that came out around my neighborhood.
We could never be anything more than friends. We were too different.
If he saw the real me—the scars, the self-loathing, the fact I’d never amount to anything—he’d leave anyway.
Why not just quit while I was ahead?
“You okay?” Declan asked as I came through the front door. He was sitting on the couch watching TV. Part of the screen was discolored because the TV was on its death bed, and we only got the free channels. His brown eyes narrowed, and he sat forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees. “You seem off.”
Every other time he’d asked me, I lied. Or I’d brushed off my problems and made them seem less than they were. I hadn’t ever wanted to worry him.
I was tired of pretending.
“Honestly? No,” I admitted, feeling my eyes water. “I’m messed up.”
