Maya’s chin jutted out defiantly. “Versailles.”
“Basic.”
“Villa d’Este.”
“Overrated.”
“Brooklyn Botanic.”
“Please.”
I liked all of those places, but we weren’t talking about gardens, and I enjoyed seeing her so flustered. Any emotion was better than no emotion.
Dev’s eyes ping-ponged between us, his brow creasing with confusion. “Uh, why does he call you Sal?” he asked. “I thought your name was Maya.”
“It is,” she said through gritted teeth. “He calls me that to piss me off.”
Dev’s frown deepened.
“We went to boarding school together,” she clarified. “We were neck and neck for the valedictorian spot, but I got food poisoning and bombed a major test. I ended up as salutatorian, hence the shortened version of the word as my nickname. Sal.”
The test had been the morning after she threw up post-debate, but the effects from her food poisoning had lingered.
“Ah.” Dev’s brow cleared. He glanced at me. “Kind of a dick move, dude.”
“No one asked you,” I said coolly. “It’s an inside joke between us. You wouldn’t get it.”
“It’s not a funny joke. I hate it,” Maya said.
“Really?” I leaned forward. “Then why haven’t you told me to stop?”
Don’t stop. Please.
Another memory from last night resurfaced, and my body tightened in response.
Maya’s lips parted. Either we were on the same wavelength, or she’d picked up on the subtle shift in the atmosphere. Whatever it was, the effect on her was obvious. Her fingers curled tight in her lap, and her chest rose and fell with uneven breaths.
The enjoyment I got out of teasing her earlier vanished.
I didn’t want to be in this boat, engaging in frivolous banter while people I didn’t care about watched. I wanted to grab her and whisk her away somewhere, anywhere where I could kiss her again. I yearned to touch her so desperately that I ached from it, but even though she was sitting less than a foot away, she felt impossibly out of reach.
“I did tell you.” There was a catch in her voice.
“I don’t remember.” My eyes fixed on hers. “Tell me again right now, and I’ll stop.”
She didn’t.
Other than the lap of water against the boat and the cry of a bird circling overhead, it was eerily quiet.
Maya’s silence didn’t mean she was going to bend. Resolve hardened her features, and I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or scream.
She was so damn stubborn, but that was one of the things that drew me to her. I didn’t want her despite her thorny edges; I wanted herbecauseof them. She was the lightning to my storm, the fire to my darkness.
No matter where we were or who we were with, she would always be the most beautiful, interesting person in the room. I could meet a million people across a thousand lifetimes, and that would never change.
“Oh, shit.” Dev’s annoying voice sliced through the moment. “Do you two have a thing going on? Because I didn’t mean—”
“No.” Maya’s answer was swift but unconvincing. “Nothing. There’s never been—no.”