Page 30 of Lovesick
“If Ievercatch you talking to her again, I’ll rearrange your fucking face across the ice, do you understand?”
Why is this awakening something inside me? No! Bad, Merit. This is a dick-swinging contest and nothing more. So what if Crew puts some weird claim on you? That’s exactly what your dad told him to do. It doesn’t mean anything.
When Volesky doesn’t respond, Crew shoots his hand out against the lockers, the slam reverberating so loudly that I’m afraid the noise will attract my dad’s attention.
Crew comes centimeters away from his teammate’s face—his lips pulled back from his incisors as they flash beneath the fluorescents—and he vibrates with rage. “Did I stutter?”
“No, Captain,” Volesky whispers, the tips of his ears turning red from shame.
“Speak up. Say it with your full chest.”
“No, Captain,” he repeats louder this time, head bowed and eyes transfixed to the sodden tiles underfoot. “I’ll never talk to her again.”
“Good, now apologize to her,” Crew spits, a rumble bellowing in his throat—the sound more potent than downing a shot of tequila or inhaling smelling salts. It’s jarring, and my legs nearly fold underneath me.
“I’m sorry,” Volesky blubbers.
Jeez. Remind me to never get on Crew’s bad side.
Crew looks utterly disgusted. “Get out of my goddamn sight.”
With his tail between his legs, Volesky lumbers into the shadows, and the rest of the team returns to their tasks like a testosterone bomb wasn’t about to annihilate the entire building and torch any form of life within the fallout zone.
Did that seriously just happen? Oh my God. This is so embarrassing. I don’t need some hockey player fighting my battles for me, especially if said hockey player is Crew. Andnow the entire team probably views me as some damsel in distress that needs to be saved.
When the locker room resumes its bustling, I stomp my way in front of Crew and push him squarely in those inflatable pecs of his. “I was handling everything myself!”
Unfortunately, my push is the equivalent of a light nudge to him. “Oh, really? It didn’t look like it from where I was standing.”
“Nobody asked for your opinion.”
“So what? You were just going to let him talk to you like that? His behavior was completely unacceptable.”
It feels like my head is swimming through gossamer webs, my thoughts masticated to the point where I’m entirely too reactive to discredit his previous claim. If my solution to everything is physical violence, I’m going to end up in jail before I’m twenty-five. And people like me don’t do well in jail.
As much as I hate to admit it, Crew did me a solid by putting Volesky in his place. Who knows how many innocent girls he’s catcalled without repercussions.
“Stop trying to play hero all the time,” I snap.
His leftover fury hasn’t eddied. In fact, it’s grown to the size of a tropical hurricane. “I don’t play hero because I think you’re some helpless damsel who can’t handle herself. I play hero because youshouldn’thave to handle assholes like Volesky by yourself.”
My belly pirouettes at his sentiment—a cocktail of lust and admiration sidelining my rational senses—and I’m one wrong move away from disregarding my father’s words altogether and jumping Crew Calloway’s bones in front of his teammates.
I shouldn’t be swooning. I should be…brooding! Yeah! I wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for Crew.
Stripped of a good comeback, I settle for a begrudging “thanks” before beginning my march toward the exit, feeling like I’ve been gutted down the middle with a hunting knife.
But of course, Crew’s lack of social awareness and affinity for getting on my nerves intercedes my departure because his hand encircles my wrist before I can escape.
“Wait, why did you even come in here?” he asks me.
I’m about to tell him to sit on my middle finger and rotate when I get a brilliant, evil idea. If I want to be a good leader, I have to compromise, and I think I know just how to get what I want.
Ugh, and forCrewto get what he wants.
I may have wanted to jump ship the moment that I found out I had to work with the Minnesota Mustangs, but this fundraiser is important. I’m not the only one who is affected by it—thousands of kids are counting on me. I have a duty to uphold, and it supersedes my fragile ego. The only other person my dad will listen to is Crew, and if I can get him on my side, maybe there’s a chance for the hockey team and the fundraiser committee to live in harmony.
“Actually, I need your help,” I admit.
