Page 118 of Love Sick

I told myself I wouldn’t pressure her. I’d follow her cues. I wouldn’t ask for more than she was willing to give. But it’s so fucking hard. Guarded and cautious, she’s been one step behind me in the Feelings Game since we met.

My subconscious warned me against this. It knew she had the power to break me. It tried for months to keep me safe in the shallows.

Be careful with this one, Julian. She’s the real thing.

I ignored the hell out of it and dove right into the deep end. How do I ask if she’s swimming beside me without seeming desperate? Without applying pressure?

How did I become the clingy one?

In early February, the printout of my CREOG score crinkles in my sweaty hands.

“Your score dropped significantly from last year, Dr. Santini.”

Sitting in the chair at his desk, I stare at Dr. Chen in silence. The open blinds of his corner office frame the hospital behind him. His TCU Horned Frog plush sits beside the gold nameplate on his desk. Behind them, a scattered pile of papers and a large bag of candy take up most of the free space.

Chen offers me a mini Snickers. “Did something happen?”

“No. Well, yes. I mean, no. Nothing happened.”

She still hasn’t said it.

Behind his glasses, Chen’s eyes narrow.

I rub my eyes beneath my own glasses. “I’ve just been distracted.”

“Focus is important, Dr. Santini. If you don’t test well on this, you may not pass your board exam.”

“This score doesn’t even matter right now. I have two years before boards.”

Dr. Chen’s black gaze penetrates deep. “It goes faster than you think.”

Sighing, I nod. “Yes, sir.”

He hands me a Reese’s cup. “Do the right thing, Dr. Santini. You can go.”

Outside his office, I snap a picture of my score, then shred the evidence and send the picture to Maxwell.

Maxwell:You’re off your game, bro.

Me:It’s just a test.

Maxwell:BrOB-GYN hang out tonight. You in?

Me:Nah. Hanging with Grace.

I’m in my car headed home for the day before Maxwell answers.

Maxwell:You think maybe you’re spending too much time with her?

Me:No such thing.

The last four weeks with Grace have been blissful despite my shitty second-year schedule. A few of our friends have discovered us, but we’re still keeping it private. We hide in our apartments and date in places we likely won’t be seen.

Sometimes we don’t leave the bed.

It’s paradise, but I’m smothered beneath its crushing weight—preoccupied and distracted to the point of bombing national assessment exams. My mind flitters from one thought to another, always straying back to her.

I’m dangerously in love with her.

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