Page 112 of Lovesick
I never thought I’d be one of those people who partake in public displays of affection. In fact, there was a time in my life where I wasthisclose to throwing rocks at happy couples that I’d see on the street, but Crew Calloway is the change I didn’t know I was searching for.
We’re not in a hurry to seek solace underneath an awning. He releases me with anticipation cloistered in his eyes, the tip of his nose splashed in a red hue from the dropping temperature.
“How did it go?” he inquires, slipping a strand of hair behind my ear.
I uncork a sigh of relief. “Surprisingly well. Mrs. Burke was actually really understanding.”
A smile crawls across his lips as pure happiness overflows in the crinkles by his eyes. There’s a tranquility about him that’s been exhumed—one that I never thought I’d see again, andone that I’m so honored to be a part of.
“I knew she would be. You did amazing with the fundraiser, Princess. You should be proud of all your hard work.”
Accepting compliments has never been my strong suit—mainly because I’m always convinced that I could do so much better—but I’m beginning to yearn for Crew’s words of affirmation like parched tillage yearns for rainfall.
This time, I choose to rush his lips in a kiss of gratitude, dopamine running hot through my veins as if someone has stuck a sixteen-gauge needle into my arm and tapped it directly into my bloodstream. Crew welcomes me earnestly, making his mark on collagen, and it’s a contact sport driven by reverence. No tangling of tongues or fast hands—just a melding of souls through life’s oldest language.
When we eventually disengage, he pouts. “You know, I hate that I have to go on a date.”
“I didn’t ruin that for you, did I?”
“Unfortunately not.”
I ruffle his hair, relishing the silky feel of it between my fingers. “I’m not in love with the idea either, but the date is going to be at a nice restaurant. No silly business on the menu. And it’s for a good cause, remember?”
An unhappy grumble stirs at the base of his throat, and he buries his face into my shoulder. “What if I write your name on my bare chest? That’ll dissuade her, right?”
“You will do no such thing,” I chide.
Even acting like a giant baby, he still knows exactly what to say to resurrect the pulse between my legs.
“I thought you liked me half-naked.”
Stay strong, Merit.
“Crew…”
My voice is less of a warning and more of a beg for mercy, especially with the sizable bulge in his pants impeding part ofmy torso. I vocalize the quietest whimper, sinking my fingernails into his back to anchor myself.
I can feel him smirk against me. “Yeah, you like it.”
All I do is laugh and shove him lightly on the shoulder, stooping down to pick up my binder. We begin to walk toward the quad—our fingers interwoven with one another’s—passing students making the same tiresome trek. Crew has learned to shorten his strides so he doesn’t speed off without me.
“Did you know that Knox saved the auction?” I question.
“I honestly couldn’t believe it at first,” he replies, petting the angular bend between my thumb and forefinger, the MU keychains on his backpack jangling with each step.
“And nobody is talking about my fall at the auction.”
“Of course they’re not. They know better.”
Neurons firing and confusion prickling over the gray matter of my brain, I hoist my head to look at him. “What are you talking about?”
A growl sticks to the sides of his throat like a burr. “If anyone messes with you, Merit, they’re picking a fight with the hockey team. And we’re known to be pretty good with our sticks.”
My belly hardens into lead. “That sounds…potentially violent.”
“I promise to use my big boy words first. No violence necessary—unless they ask for it.”
I don’t want to imagine what Crew’s bad side looks like. He’s royalty around here—going against him would be treason. And to make enemies with the entire hockey team? I pity the fool who discovers what a hockey puck to the back feels like.
