Page 108 of Lovesick
“Come on, dude! If you want to pursue something, you should go for it. I’ve seen you guys together—you’re perfect. She’s spunky, you’re nerdy. It’s like a rom-com waiting to happen.”
His pelagic eyes lighten with laughter, one eyebrow lifted to his hairline. “Crew Calloway? Talking about rom-coms? What has Merit done to you?”
I grab him by the arms and shake him frantically, the butterflies in my stomach doing a gold-worthy triple axel. “I don’t know! I think I’m going crazy!”
I’m the happiest I’ve ever been with Merit. She makes me giddy. Like, to the point where I’d start singing and dancing if this were a musical. I thought this level of bliss was only achievable through high-grade marijuana.
I’m a changed man. An incredibly down bad, changed man. I can’t wait until I can flaunt her around campus.
“Damn, I never thought I’d see the day when Crew Calloway hangs up his notched belt,” Harlan quips, squirreling out of my grip and sliding his travel-sized study guide into his backpack. “You really love her, don’t you?”
“More than I ever thought possible,” I admit with unflinching conviction, adoration revving to life behind the handlebars of my ribs, my mouth sore from the permanent smile on my face.
Merit Lawson has single-handedly caulked the cracks of my life together with her gentle love, and I’ll spend the rest of my time on this earth making it up to her.
Aimless in our excursion, I’m about to redirect the interrogation lamp when Knox, of all people, tracks us down like we’re fugitives on the run, jogging over to us with an air of cordiality. I don’t talk to the guy, so I have absolutely no ideawhat he wants. And frankly, I don’t have time to dog-walk him.
My body hasn’t forgotten about the hell he put me through during practice. Hatred crackles in my belly, and I use the thought of my perfect girlfriend as self-medication to keep me from flipping out.
Harlan is just as confused as I am. “Knox?”
Knox scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “Hey, uh, I just wanted to see how Merit was doing. I know we don’t really talk, but Friday was kind of intense.”
He wants to know how Merit is? Has he been possessed by some extraterrestrial being? I got the impression early on that Knox doesn’t really care about anyone but himself, and he hasn’t shown me otherwise. It’s taking everything in me not to laugh right in his face.
Warily, I cross my arms over my chest, giving him an indifferent once-over. “She’s doing better.”
He rocks back on his heels, his hands twisted in the straps of his backpack. “That’s really good to hear. The whole team has been worried about her.”
Knox? Worried? You mean he’s capable of feeling more than green-eyed envy?
“I heard you took over for her at the auction,” Harlan pipes up, playing unofficial peacekeeper between the two of us.
My best friend doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. I don’t think I’ve even seen him hurt a fly. Every bug he finds in a human-sanctioned zone has to be escorted out safely. No killing allowed on the premises. I, on the other hand, approach most situations with guns blazing and will not hesitate to spray the hell out of a spider in my house.
Knox flushes. “Oh, yeah. It was no big deal really. She did a great job as an auctioneer. I just wanted to try and keep things sailing as smoothly as possible.”
Shortly after Harlan and I arrived at the hospital, Irelyn, Sutton, and Foster were a few minutes behind us.
“Youtook over the auction?” I splutter in disbelief.
“I’m a team player first and foremost,” he replies.
HAH! Team player. Right. Says the guy who was butt hurt that I stole captain from him—which I didn’t. He wasn’t promised that title, okay? The best got it, and, well, the outcome speaks for itself.
I press a fist to my forehead, laughing maniacally under my breath, and the devil on my shoulder is hijacking my morals. “I just…I can’t imagine you being likeable enough to stand in front of an audience for an hour.”
“Crew!” Harlan chastises, thwapping me on the arm.
Knox—putting that one working brain cell of his to good use—surprisingly doesn’t retaliate. “No, I deserve that. I’ve been a complete asshole to you. For no other reason than me being a petty, sore loser, and I’m really sorry about that.”
He’s…taking accountability?
Shock webs my muscles together—swiftly followed by a whit of arrogance—but then the sad, sad reality of me being the bigger person and squashing our beef comes to a head. The right thing to do would be to forgive him. Not just in my own best interest, but in the team’s.
“I appreciate the apology, but why now?” I ask.
Knox’s eyes frost over with something similar to regret, and his voice pours over me, chilled, like a scotch on the rocks. Harlan’s mouth screws up into a preemptive grimace.
