Page 56 of Lovesick
My tone is laced with dubiety—maybe a hint of disillusion. “He just wants what he can’t have.”
“Or maybe—stick with me here—he actually likes you,” she offers with a beguiling twinkle in her mossy eyes, shaking the crimson ringlets that rest pliantly on her shoulders.
Crew Calloway has already tilted my axis a full one-eighty. Entertaining the possibility that helikelikes me is catastrophic for the little shred of sanity I’m still clinging on to. My perfectly composed seams—the ones I pride myself on—are slowly but surely being ripped apart by a fine-point needle.
If Crew views me as anything but his intelligent, hilarious, and drop-dead gorgeous acquaintance, it’s going to deconstruct our dynamic completely. And how am I supposed to live in a world where I can’t insult him whenever I feel like it?
When my best friend goes to tidy up the edge of the tape, I grab her by the shoulders, stare deeply into her eyes, and shake her like a Shake Weight. “He can’t, Irelyn, okay? He just can’t!”
Fear dances in her irises. “Jeez, okay.”
And, just on time, the anxiety rears its ugly head, simmering something mean in my stomach and consequently making me regret the chicken teriyaki wrap I had an hour ago.
Oh my God. I can’t do this. I wasn’t built for socializing and partying. I was built for lounging on the couch and squealingover fictional men in books. Real men? They’re terrifying. A relationship? HAH.
Panic usurps complete control over the situation. “What if he tries to kiss me tonight?”
Irelyn deadpans, “Um, you let him?”
“But then that can lead to feelings, and what if my father finds out somehow? I think he got me microchipped when I was a baby. Holy shit. What if heshows upto the party?!”
She cautiously removes my death grip from her shoulders, consoling me like one would a cornered, rabid dog. “Whoa, okay. Calm your spirit. Halt your spiral of self-doom. Your dad isn’t going to show up at a frat party on a Saturday night, and if he does, he’ll be turned away at the door. You know frat guys don’t let anyone in unless they’re accompanied by a throng of half-naked women.”
Okay, she makes a fair point.
“Plus, why are you still structuring your life around what your parents want? You moved back to Minnesota because they demanded it. You left your friends and withdrew from one of the most prestigious dance schools in the country. Now you’re giving up the chance at something serious with a guy all because he’s your father’s player? Don’t you see how you’ll never be happy if you keep prioritizing their feelings over yours?”
I hate when Irelyn makes sense. She’s right. I’m indebted to them for…what? For taking care of me and raising me like they were supposed to? If my parents really had my best interest at heart, wouldn’t they want me to be happy? Wouldn’t they want me to experience the world instead of keeping me sheltered?
Just because the last frat party that you went to was a total shitshow doesn’t mean this one will be.
As I look in the full-length mirror, taking in my risqué outfit, smoky cat eye, and wavy hair, regret looms over me like aconstant raincloud, drenching me in its merciless downpour. “I don’t do anything for myself,” I whisper under my breath.
“No, you don’t,” Irelyn agrees.
I straighten my spine and push my shoulders back. “I need to start.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I’m tired of always playing it safe. I’m tired of always doing what’s expected of me!” I shout to no one in particular, riled up from Irelyn’s “Yes Woman” mentality.
“Yes, you are!” she yells with equal enthusiasm, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she thrusts her fist triumphantly into the air.
“If Crew Calloway kisses me tonight, I’ll let him. Hell, I’ll do him one better—I’ll ride that thang like a cowgirl!”
The shared hysteria falters for a second, and Irelyn blinks in shock.
“You’ll—oh, wow. That’s…”
I cringe. “Is that too far?”
My best friend just pretends to wipe an invisible tear away, a cheek-plumping smile gracing her lips. “Merit, I’ve never been prouder.”
When we pull up to Sig Chi’s frat in Irelyn’s rickety, well-loved Mazda, the nerves are back with a vengeance, my anxiety snowballing into this dense amalgamation that I don’t have the facilities to disperse. It’s just a party. I’m just meeting Crew. Maybe nothing happens tonight, you know? I’m getting myself worked up for no reason.
The frat house is packed. There’s a line of questionably dressed college students wrapping around the block, with the occasional straggler puking their guts up in the juniper bushes.I can hear the trap remix from outside as it booms into the starless night, and if Sig Chi wasn’t on fraternity row, I’d pity their poor neighbors.
Canary light trickles through the slats of their boarded-up windows, illuminating the front yard and inching into the deserted street. Thick coats of nightshade smear across the sky, the usual, cold chill blustering around warm bodies and mingling with their humid breaths.
