Page 77 of Lovesick
He waited for me?
“When Irelyn came back, I asked her where you went. She checked your location and said that you were at your parents’ house,” he explains.
Shock snaps, crackles, and pops down my spine. “So you came here? Knowing that if you were caught, my dad would beverysuspicious?”
Crew’s voice is coated in warmth, much like burnt molasses. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I think you’re worth a little trouble.”
Oh, Crew.
I know I should be worried about my parents potentially barging into my room at any given second, but all I can think about right now ishim. He’s sitting a respectable distance away justadmiringme. I don’t know if he’s afraid to touch me because he’s on enemy territory, or if there’s another reason unbeknownst to me.
The scent of petrichor mushrooms into the space, endowing my lungs with clean, fresh air. He’s taken a proverbial defibrillator to my chest and revitalized my heart.
My voice climbs an octave. “About last night—I wanted to thank you. For taking care of me.”
“You don’t have to thank me for anything. I wanted to take care of you,” he assures me.
God, he’s so beautiful up close. Faraway. In between. He’s like a poet’s muse come to life, a walking sonnet of a hopeless romantic’s innermost desires. The soft glow from my roomhighlights his hewn features, whereas the dreary eventide would normally wash him out. The tepid waves in his eyes are so inviting as they call to me in their mother tongue, coaxing me beyond the shore, promising me eternal?—
“Do you remember anything from last night?”
Uh, that doesn’t sound good. Crew certainly wouldn’t be asking me if I didn’t do something embarrassing. Fuck. Did I do something embarrassing? I mean, besides proving to him that I can’t handle my alcohol.
“I don’t remember much,” I admit in a hushed whisper.
“You told me about the scar on your chest. About your heart,” he informs.
The lightness of the situation vanishes in a millisecond, like a gale of wind whispering through a copse of cypresses. Sympathy etches into the worry lines of his face—an expression that wounds me every time I have to witness it, whether it’s from complete strangers or the people closest to me.
No. No, no, no. I—I didn’t want to tell him. I didn’t want him to know. Why did you have to go and ruin everything, Merit? This is all your fault. Look at the way he’s staring at you! Like you’re a pathetic, cowardly animal that’s barely hanging on to life…that needs to be killed because it’s the merciful thing to do.
A doe that’s been shot in the belly, bleeding out against freshly fallen snow, too weak to run from the guilt-stricken hunter who’s come to finish the job.
I don’t know what to say.
“I…”
His words wield a pain I know all too well. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Instead of giving him the honesty he deserves, I get defensive, backing away from him. “It’s a part of me that I don’t want people knowing about.”
“But I’m not justpeople, Merit.”
“Do you even realize how you’re looking at me right now?” Isnap, the vulnerable side of me crawling back inside my skin—no matter how claustrophobic it is—because insecurity is somehow more manageable than judgment.
Crew rears back. “What? I’m not looking at you any differently.”
“Yes, you are.”
“So what? You kept it a secret from me because you thought I’d feel bad for you? How is that fair? You keep pigeonholing me into this stereotype when I’ve proven to you that I’m not the kind of person you think I am.”
“Why do you think you’re entitled to know everything about me? It’s not like we’re together, Crew.”
His throat works, and his frustration bellies up. “Yeah, I’m well aware of that.”
I don’t want to talk about this. Every conversation I have is always about what’s fucking wrong with me. I don’t need to be reminded of it every second of the goddamn day. Having a heart murmur and overcoming surgery isn’t inspiring—it’s a constant reminder that I’m always going to be more broken than the person next to me.
“Just drop it, okay? It’s not important.”
