"Jesus Christ, Everleigh, please open your eyes."

Everleigh put a hand to her forehead and opened one eye at a time. Took a moment to realize where she was, and nearly leapt into Maverick's lap when she realized he'd sat her on the ground of an alleyway in Las Vegas.

"Oh my God, ew!" Everleigh grabbed his shoulders. "What the fuck—"

"Calm down, calm down," Maverick said. His hand was on her shoulder again, trying to keep her steady. Another hand held something under her nose.

"Why are we on the ground?" Everleigh's eyebrows knit together. There were few things that disgusted Everleigh; she had cleaned up airplane bathrooms before. But sitting on the ground in a place that could have anything underneath her was a boundary she did not want to break. Snow be damned, Everleigh hated being on the ground.

"I'm sorry that the fucking White House couch wasn't available, Meadowlark, but you passed out, I didn't know what else to do."

"Probably take me to the hospital, not sit me on the fuckin' ground—"

"I get it, it's gross. But if I trailed you around to my car with you passed out, I'd get arrested. Please stop complaining, I at least sat with you," Maverick said. "And now my ass is wet too. So, if that makes you feel better, there's that."

Everleigh looked down for a moment. "Are you using a joint as a smelling salt?"

"It was that or something I pulled out of the dumpster over there."

Everleigh managed a laugh. "Thank you for not pulling shite out of the dumpster."

"You're sure?" Maverick asked, tucking the joint behind his ear. "I could find some, like, mouldy cheese, or... you know, rat shit or something. Whatever you want. Lady's choice."

Everleigh snorted. "Shut up, Kingston."

Maverick smiled. "There she is."

Everleigh held her hands up in the air and shook them—Vegas Strip back alley jazz hands.

"You scared the shit out of me, Everleigh." Maverick pushed her bangs away from her eyes gently, pushing the longer part behind her ear.

"I'm sorry." Everleigh didn't mean to lean into his hand, but her head still hurt a little. She was disoriented, not thinking straight. And Maverick's hand was comfortable. Sue her—it's not like he pulled it away.

"What happened?" Maverick asked.

"I..." Everleigh's eyebrows knit together. "You don't have to hear about this."

"I just caught you before you cracked your head on the pavement."

"And I thank you for it."

"It wasn't the weed, was it?" Maverick looked genuinely concerned. Like he was close to too many emotions at once. Oh, God. "I promise I didn't do anything to it. I promise."

"Kingston."

"Yes?"

"I'm past the point of thinking you're trying to kill me."

Maverick smiled. "I'm glad."

"It wasn't the weed."

"Good."

"That's a whole can of worms I don't want to crack open with you tonight."

"One night? In the future?"

"Maybe."

"You keep almost agreeing to things, I'm going to think you still want to spend time with me." Maverick laughed, Everleigh joined him.

Maverick's eyes were side lit by the streetlight at the end of the alley as they shone in Everleigh's direction. Rays of sunshine through an iced glass of scotch. Small suns surrounded his pupils like a full solar eclipse. In the right light, Everleigh was sure they'd have the smallest tinge of red to them—like Everleigh's favourite wine. If they weren't clouded with concern Everleigh didn't want, she probably could've stared at them for the rest of the night; lost in the vortex.

"Maybe I do."

"Did you hit your head and I didn't notice?"

"My head is spinning," Everleigh said, "but, no."

Maverick leaned in and hugged Everleigh tightly—she was sure he had to have scraped his knuckles on the wall behind her, but he didn't even peep a complaint. Everleigh tapped between his shoulders a couple times; still not one for hugging. Maverick buried his head in her shoulder anyway.

"I'm really glad you're okay."

"I'd love to eat something, Kingston. Bloody starving."

"Anywhere you want."

"I'd take Maccies at this point."

Maverick pulled away, amusement glistening in his eyes. "Maccies?"

Everleigh wrinkled her nose and put on the most mocking Canadian accent she could. "McDonalds."

"If she wants to go to McDonalds, she's going to get McDonalds."

"She has a name."

"If Everleigh Meadowlark—"

"I thought I said you could call me Leigh."

"I thought I said you could call me Maverick."

"Maverick is for people who don't know your first name."

"Leigh is for lazy people who don't appreciate how fucking cool your name is." Maverick grinned and pushed himself up off the ground, offering his hand to Everleigh. "I'm not lazy. Or uncool."

"You're a little uncool." Everleigh took his hand before he could pull it away and rose to her feet. (Maybe she swayed a little and maybe Maverick's hands landed politely on her waist to keep her up and maybe she didn't stop them and maybe she was a little high.)

"Harsh."

"I mean, comparing my name to a fantasy character in front of your friends?" Everleigh laughed. "Little dorky. We're both... a little dorky."

"The name thing's not untrue."

"Thought it was staying between us, Kingston. Our little secret."

"We can have other secrets."

"Like whoever Rhylan is to you?"

Maverick shook his head and laughed. "She passes out and still sticks the dagger right in and twists."

"Maccies and secret spilling?" Everleigh grinned. "My treat, your secrets?"

"You passed out in a back alley, the least I can do is buy you dinner."

"Would it be too forward to ask if you wanted to go to my hotel room and change?" Everleigh reached behind her—mostly ignoring that Maverick's hand still held her like he was worried she'd fall again—wiping off the back of her jeans with her hand. "I'm assuming you've got your suitcase with your driver considering you arrived not long before the concert."

"You'd be correct."

"Do you want to change?"

"Do you?"

"I don't really want swamp ass at Maccies, so."

"Now that's a way to get a guy to your hotel room, Everleigh Meadowlark."

*

Everleigh changed in the bathroom of the hotel room while she left Maverick in the main room. Changing into a Woodsboro Film Club shirt that Juno had gifted her for her birthday one year and a pair of looser jeans, Everleigh walked back out to find Maverick standing in his boxers when she had specifically left him on the bed playing on his phone.

Everleigh's eyes widened. "Sorry, I thought—"

Maverick jumped at Everleigh's voice but didn't do much more than that as he took a shirt from his suitcase and pulled it on over his head. (Another vintage music shirt—this time it was Nirvana.)

"—you'd change in the loo."

Maverick was on a role with his acting that night. First the beer on Maver and then the fact he didn't look too freaked out when he turned to face Everleigh. (Hands knit together in front of him, even though his shirt passed his... waist.)

"I just... I thought—" There he was. Stumbling over his words. Everleigh's little poet. Maverick collected his jeans from her bed and balled them up in front of him. "I'll be right back."

"I like your... tattoo."

Good God.

Everleigh might as well have openly admitted she looked everywhere.

That being said, Maverick had a rose tattooed on his calf with sheet music as the petals. There were lines around it that made it look more like a sketch than a solid tattoo—a permanent work in progress.

Maverick turned on his heel, little wobbly on a turn-around two-step. A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah?"

"Don't go all doe-eyed on me, poetry boy." Everleigh waved a finger at him. "That was a compliment to your artist, not you."

"Yeah, but it's the closet you've ever come to complimenting me."

"You can bask in it while you put your damn trousers on."

"Trousers."

"You're already in your fuckin' pants, Kingston," Everleigh said. "No shame."

"I had to flirt with dick me down Donny—"

"You did not have to flirt, you had to type my hotel room."

"Was it good?"

"We're not talking about this."

"You're welcome. I flirted."

Everleigh narrowed her eyes at him. "Get your trousers on. We've got Maccies to eat."

Maverick held his hands up in surrender. "Could just order room service."

"Either way you need to—"

"Put my fucking pants on, I know." Maverick laughed. "One second."

"Could've been done by now."

Maverick turned as he entered the bathroom, keeping his head poked out the door. "You're the one who checked me out."

"I didn't check you out."

Maverick laughed. "Just happened to look at the floor and catch the tatt—"

"Shut up."

"Did you ever see the one behind my ear?"

"You have one behind your ear?"

"Checking me out," Maverick sang, laughing.

Everleigh crossed her arms. "I'll leave you here and check into another hotel. Go get dinner by myself."

"Fine, fine."

"One second my ass, Kingston."

"Speaking of asses—"

Everleigh swiped her room key from the dresser. She walked past the bathroom door and out the hotel room. Even when the door closed behind her, Everleigh could hear Maverick laughing in the room. The door unlatched and it took everything in her not to turn around.

"Hope you brought a room key, Meadowlark."

Everleigh held up her card pinched between two fingers but didn't glance in Maverick's direction, not even as he fell into stride with her.

When Everleigh did finally turn in his direction, it was because Maverick nearly fell in the hallway trying to shove his foot into his jeans when he was already wearing sneakers.

"Did you walk out here in your fucking pants—" Everleigh stopped dead in her tracks. "Jesus Christ, Kingston."

"You don't seem the type to bluff." Maverick jumped on one foot as he tried to pull his jeans on. In the middle of the hallway. With Everleigh looking at him like he was insane. Because he was. And anyone who walked out of their room for even a moment would see them standing there, and Everleigh would be stuck in his idiocy with him. Naturally.

"Dumbass."

Maverick forced his foot through the leg of his jeans and finally—finally—pulled them up his waist. Did the button and his belt up, pulled up the zipper. Held his arms out to his sides and grinned at Everleigh like a child showing their mother a reorganized room. (If Florence's kid did that to her, she wasn't sure she could fake being interested.) "Better?"

Everleigh stared at him for a moment. Crossed her arms. "Where would you like to eat?"

"There's a restaurant downstairs."

"I'm not sitting in a restaurant in the building where the crazy DJ ran down the hall in his pants." Everleigh pressed the button on the elevator.

"Why are we taking the elevator?"

"Are you a fan of the stairs?"

"More time to talk."

"Talk talk or you're going to bug me about noticing your tattoo?"

"Talk talk."

Everleigh looked at Maverick. He looked a little more sincere than Everleigh had seen him most of the night. The same kind of look he gave her when he told her about his hearing aids and about how much he loved the crowd.

She managed a nod as the elevator dinged. "Okay."

Maverick smiled, tilting his head. "Stairs are this way."

Everleigh followed him, Maverick holding the stairwell door open for her as she ducked under his arm. Closing the door quietly behind them, Maverick fell into stride as they started their descent down the stairs. Everleigh tucked her hands into her jean pockets.

"So," Everleigh started.

"Rhylan was my fiancée."

Right to it then, okay.

"Kingston, you don't have to do this..."

"I want to," Maverick said. "It's... I figured I may as well rip the bandaid off."

"Quite the bandage. Sure you don't need stitches?"

Maverick laughed as he hopped onto the first landing. "You would know, nurse Meadowlark."

Everleigh smiled but didn't say anything.

"So... I don't know where you want me to start this story."

"Wherever you want."

"I think I fell a little harder for Rhylan than she did for me," Maverick said. "And don't get me wrong, that's okay. Rhy and I are on good terms. My whole sophomore album is dedicated to her and kind of an apology, kind of a thank you."

"Classy."

' "Thank you." Maverick smiled. "So, we called things off. Mostly mutual. Sixty-forty at the most."

"Gotta be more than that if you've kept her as the first thing you see when you open your phone."

"What do you mean?" Maverick pulled his phone from his pocket and turned it on, Everleigh's middle finger greeting both of them. "First thing I see is you."

"Ha ha."

"I don't know why I kept it," Maverick said. "Guess she always felt... safe to me. Even after we weren't engaged any more."

"That makes sense."

"Not really." Maverick laughed. "The day that I met you, I'd been with Rhylan. I mean been with night before and been woken up late the morning after."

"You can say sex, Kingston."

"You're not judging me for this."

Everleigh shrugged. "Hardly my place to do so."

Maverick gave Everleigh a look. Like he was studying her face to see if she was silently making fun of him and not saying so. Everleigh wouldn't. Who cared what he did in his bed? Not her. Maybe fake fans were concerned about Maverick's status with Rhylan. Everleigh wasn't... either, really. Bitchy as that was to say.

Maverick scratched the back of his neck. "That's kind of the reader's digest version of it all. Might cry if I get into any more of it."

"You don't have to do that." Everleigh pulled her phone from her pocket and stopped walking down the stairs.

"Can't text and walk?" Maverick teased.

"I've already passed out tonight, don't need you taking me to the hospital for cracking my head open."

"Fair enough."

"Plus," Everleigh said, flipping her phone to Maverick after she scanned her fingerprint to confirm her purchase. "I had to keep my promise."

Maverick raised his eyebrows when he registered what was going on. "The whole album?"

"Whole album."

"I'm honoured, Everleigh Meadowlark."

"You send me reports of reading the Witchers," Everleigh said, "I'll send you updates on where I am in your album."

"I have two, you know."

"Pushing it."

Maverick laughed and pulled his phone out as well. "Worth a shot."

"Can't text and walk?" Everleigh mocked.

"Ha ha," Maverick said back. "Checking the time."

"Why?"

"Ten," Maverick started, "Nine, eight, seven, six..."

Everleigh smiled and counted down with him.

"Five, four, three, two, one..."

Maverick smiled. "Happy new year, Everleigh Meadowlark."

"Happy new year, Kingston."

The stairwell felt a little cozier than it had before.