Page 26 of Lovesick
Let her warm up to you, dude. She’s been through a lot. Don’t make things weird. There’s also probably a reason why she covered everything up in the first place, and it’s none of your business.
I know I probably shouldn’t be thinking this—let alone say it out loud—but I’m not going to let the opportunity slip through my fingers. “You look beautiful.”
The blush feathering over her cheeks is almost unnoticeable, like her magnitude for feeling things has dimmed since the last time we were together, and she gestures to my unripped and undirtied ensemble. “You clean up nicely yourself.”
“Merit, was that a compliment?”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“But seriously…are you okay?” I ask softly, offering her adequate space so she doesn’t feel cornered, though I’d give anything in the world to wrap my arms around her and absorb all the pain she’s probably still feeling.
She shuffles her heels against the floorboards, her eyes pinned to a discolored stain begriming the ground. “I’m fine. I just want to forget that night happened, okay?”
How could I justforget, Merit? How do you expect me to forget about the way you felt in my arms? How do you expect me to forget about the way my heart pounded with this renewed sense of liveliness that I haven’t felt in years?
I nod in understanding. “I get it. It was traumatic. I won’t bring it up again.”
“And thank you…for saving me.”
“Of course.”
It feels like I’ve been hit with a bullet, no exit wound. “I’m sorry for the things I said to you. I was so heated in the moment, and I lashed out.”
Her eyes flick up to me, those blue beauties sending my heart into a directionless frenzy. “I’m sorry too. Iantagonizedyou. I didn’t even let you defend yourself. I just made all these cruel assumptions about you because I was so jealous.”
Jealous? If anything, I’m jealous of her. Of her relationship with her father—of her happy, whole family. And the sad thing is, she’ll probably never realize how good she has it.
“Trust me, you have nothing to be jealous about.”
I’m usually a great conversationalist, but I have no idea where to begin. This is one of the rawest talks we’ve ever had, and I’m not particularly inclined to unwrap layers of personal trauma tonight. I need to change the subject.
“Uh, what have you been up to lately? You know, besides…”
“Not much. Reading seems to take my mind off things,” she answers, relieved to be discussing something other than a therapy-reserved talking point.
She’s a reader? God, this girl just gets hotter and hotter.
“I didn’t know you liked to read.”
Her whole face lights up, as if nobody has ever shown interest in learning about her hobbies before. I have no idea why they wouldn’t—Merit Lawson is the most interesting person in the world. I can’t think of a better way to pass time than listening to her talk about what she loves.
“Yeah, it helps me escape from the real world.”
I understand a lot more than she thinks I do.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what do you read?” I inquire, half-expecting her to stray from the question altogether. It’s usually fifty-fifty on whether I can add a new, hard-earned fact into my Merit memory bank.
“Smut,” she replies without hesitation.
“Smut?” I echo, having absolutely no idea what she’s talking about.
“Softcore porn. Sometimes hardcore.”
Dear God. I think the Lord is testing me.
I smother a smile, shaking my head. “I never would’ve guessed.”
Her big shot attitude is back in full force, and she places her hands on her hips. “Why? Because I give off virgin vibes?”
