Page 81 of Dear Future Husband

Maybelle’s hands curled into my shirt. She wasn’t pulling me close—not yet—but I could see the war. The desire and restraint battle within her.

She wanted me.

Oh, I wanted to give in. To fall into her silent pleads, but an idea crashed like lightning against my skull.

This. This was how I would get her back.

I wouldn’t get her back playing friends or letting her sideline me. No. I was going to make this feisty, stubborn girl see me. See us. I didn’t need to win her back because she was already mine.

I pushed forward, leaving no doubt that I too would give into temptation. Maybelle fell for the bait, closing her eyes, tilting herself up, inviting me to kiss her. That’s where I halted.

“This whole friend thing isn’t sounding so fun now, is it?” I whispered.

Her eyes opened wide just in time to see me wink and push off the door, leaving her still pressed into the immovable surface.

You want to be friends, Mayhem?

Fine. Game on.

28 Big News

Maybelle

A week had passed since that long, awkward ride back home to Chelsea. I almost kissed the ground when Trey and I arrived home, freeing myself of the painfully quiet vehicle. Trey seemed unbothered by the tension that made me bite my right thumbnail down to a nasty nub.

Trey and Chelsea went out to dinner that Saturday, early evening, for their mother-son date, and I was beyond thankful for it.

I didn’t see Trey again before he left back to school. He took off early that Sunday morning.

He didn’t text or call me that week. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss him, but if I learned anything from my weekend at college, this was how it had to be, or I would risk everything.

Not only was my stupid, vulnerable heart on the line, but acknowledging that I hardly knew Trey caused a lot of unrealized insecurities to tunnel through my chest.

The main one being that the Turners were the only individuals in the world offering to care for me, to give me a place to come home to, support me and be a family for me.

If things went bad between me and Trey—I couldlose the only people I had in the world.

And Chelsea—Chelsea loved me.

Would she still love me if her son and I crashed and burned? I liked to think I knew them well enough. That the Turners would never abandon me. But there was a deep-rooted fear inside me, needling me with the idea that I was being too trusting.

Anyway, this week was far too busy to think about Trey.

Fat lie, but that’s beside the point.

I’d been cooking up a plan, finalized all the details Thursday but was waiting to announce my news until Trey was home to hear them in person.

I was giddy with excitement as I slipped on a fitted, spring leaf green, capped sleeve tee with whitewash jeans in the bathroom.

Today was a good day, and I knew it would only get better because I did the impossible this morning.

I ran.

Granted, it was more like a bouncy, fast walk that was a spectacle to witness and left my joints screaming. But it was enough, and I didn’t fall. Next up, sprinting, and tonight was the first step to getting there.

I paused, making eye contact with myself in the bathroom mirror, giving my image one last once over before exiting.

New, more apparent freckles smattered across the bridge of my nose and tops of my round, rosy cheeks. My hips were fuller and the green top I wore made my eyes favor a sea foam color. My arms looked powerful under the fabric. My honey gold curls coiled around me as I combed my fingers in the roots and fluffed to add volume.