ᴛᴏᴏ ʏᴏᴜɴɢ » ᴢᴀᴄʜ ʜᴇʀʀᴏɴ

Chapter Twenty

May 17, 2018

The light coming from the laptop's screen was the only source of brightness in the room.
   
Maeve was sitting in a swivel chair in front of the hotel desk in her room. Her computer was open to one of the last homework assignments of her junior year of highschool, but she wasn't looking at it.
   
She was sitting back, her knees pulled to her chest—a position she often folded herself into absentmindedly—with her eyes raking over darkness, as if answers were hidden there.

Throughout the six days since she met up with Kendra, she'd pondered and worried and doubted; her sister's words had been clear, and she couldn't forget.

But she had come to a sort of a conclusion: she wasn't entirely sure she knew what love was, but sometimes she thought she did.
   
It was in the way she shared a look with Zach after he caught her staring at him, unable to tear her eyes away. It was in the way she adored the grin on his face when he spotted her after one of the shows, slightly breathless with messy hair. It was in the way she felt when he touched her, like for a moment she had no control over herself.
   
And thinking all of that was unintentional.
   
But when she thought of love, she thought of Zach.

***

The laptop had long since blanked dark from being unoccupied when there was a knock on the door. Maeve looked over to the tiny sliver of yellow light peeking under the door from the hallway. She got up, stumbling a bit as she crossed the room from sitting still for so long. Corbyn was standing in the hallway.
   
"I'm so sorry, were you sleeping?" he asked, peering over her shoulder into the dark room.
   
Maeve shook her head, moving inside so he could follow; he obviously wanted to talk about something. Reluctantly, she flipped on the lights, blinking as she settled in on the bed. Corbyn did the same, glancing over at her with his kind eyes. She watched him expectantly, but she already knew why he was here.
   
"C'mon, Wendy," he prodded softly.
   
She shifted her gaze to her lap, messing with her sweatpants.
   
A long while passed, Maeve finally meeting Corbyn's eyes with her lips set in a thin line, a telltale sign she was working to keep her emotions in check.
   
She told him everything. About Kendra and how she reacted to her apparent interest in Zach, how she felt all sorts of doubt, all down to what Zach had said to her the other night. How she could talk to him about anything, and how much she wanted to, making everything that much more difficult.
   
It was the first time she'd ever said it out loud—her feelings for Zach.
   
"I like him," she admitted softly, eyes down. "I do."
  
The moment swelled around the pair.

Corbyn wanted to smile, but kept it to himself. She had finally said it out loud—he'd known for months, maybe even before she did—but she finally said it.
   
Her voice interrupted his thoughts.
   
"Am I too young to be in love?"
   
He was taken aback. Eventually, he shook his head.
   
"No."
   
She looked at him.
   
"Love is weird," he said. "I think that... one second you could be standing next to a person and the next second you realize you don't see them as just a friend. You want more than that with them."
   
She'd had friendships with a couple boys in the past, but it was never like what she had with Zach. No other guy had ever cared for her as much as Zach did, and none of them made her smile like an absolute idiot. He was different.
   
"You're thinking about him," Corbyn said, and it wasn't a question.
   
They were both trying not to smile then, knowing his statement was correct. He broke first, however, looking down as he shook his head.
   
"I think I fell in love with Christina when I was sixteen," he said. That smile had made its way to his voice.
   
Seriousness seemed to wash over him again.
   
"I know you love Kendra. I know you trust her because she's been your supporter your entire life, but... Maeve, you're not too young." He paused. "You're seventeen. And you have feelings for him. I don't think your age has any power over what you feel."

***

Corbyn shut the door to his hotel room gently, assuming Zach and Jonah were already asleep, but when he turned around Zach was still sitting up in bed. He set down his phone.
   
"Where were you?" he asked.   
   
Corbyn moved further into the room, shrugging off his jacket.
   
"Maeve's room," he replied. "Talking to her."
   
Zach's eyes shifted. Though most had stayed the same between him and Maeve the past couple of days, he had noticed her uncharacteristic silence around him at times.
   
Corbyn watched the younger boy sit up a little. He already knew what he wanted to ask.
  
"She said she's going to shower, but you should go see her afterwards."

***

No girl had ever caused Zach's breath to hitch in his throat. That was before Maeve.
   
She opened the door he had knocked on, wet hair hanging in waves around her shoulders. She was wearing a Why Don't We sweatshirt that was a size too large—"Clothes that are too big are more comfortable," she'd told him once—and black joggers.
   
He tried to appear unaffected, but honestly, he didn't care if she knew how much he wanted her right then.
   
Neither of them broke eye contact as he leaned against the doorway, now only a few mere inches apart from her.
   
"What happened?" he asked quietly.
   
Her eyes dropped to his chest for a moment before she looked back up at him.
  
"Can I tell you later?"
   
She wasn't ready yet. He, after all, was the main reason she hadn't kissed Greyson, why she was now pushing against what Kendra said.
   
His gaze softened at the vulnerability behind her question.

"Yeah, of course," he said.
   
She managed to smile faintly, nod slowly.
   
Then he slid his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close. He rested his cheek on her head and stopped moving, simply holding her.
   
She closed her eyes.
   
When she thought of love, she thought of him.