Page 79 of Lovesick
“They have a good way of hiding it,” I laugh humorlessly.
He perks up, and I can practically see the gears in his head turning. “I know something that can take your mind off everything.”
Uh-oh. That sounds…surprisingly unsuggestive. It does sound dangerous though. Crew can’t stay in my room. I can’t leave.
I titter. “What? Are you going to jailbreak me out of here?”
Crew leans in far enough to cup my face in his hands, the chill from his palms zapping aftershocks through my body. If we were chest to chest, there’s no doubt that he would feel the unabashed sprinting of my heart.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” he insists with far too much confidence.
Does he want to send my father into cardiac arrest?!
My heart is fully freaking out now. If I don’t get my hormones in check, this ring is going to give me away faster than Crew can swan-dive out of my window.
“Crew, you’re playing with fire.”
A knee-weakening smile splits his lips. “Baby, that’s my favorite pastime.”
I’m beginning to think that Crew is doing some crazy witchcraft on the side because not only did he manage to convince me to climb out my window but also to sneak into the hockey rink on a weekend. Pre-Crew Merit would be clutching her pearls.
I left my phone in my room so my parents couldn’t track my location, and as an added precaution, I became a twenty-something cliché by stuffing two pillows underneath my sheets as a decoy.
Why does Crew have a key to the rink? I don’t know, but I’m too afraid to ask questions.
Normally, I’d be against disobeying my parents’ wishes, but after the fight we had, I’m done blindly following their rules when they have no regard for how it affects me. Not to mention that an afternoon with Crew trumps doomscrolling on my phone.
The air in the rink is exceptionally cold, even with Crew’s spare hoodie thrown over me. I cling to the boards as my legs wobble with uncertainty, a nervous sweat beading on my upper lip despite the chill from the set temperature.
“This is your great distraction?” I mutter, trying to quell the shiver that ripples down my spine.
“It beats being trapped in your room, doesn’t it?”
Crew—never passing up the opportunity to show off—takes to the ice naturally. Watching him skate from the stands is so much different than witnessing him up close. His legs are an extension of himself, and his body is aerodynamic even thoughit’s ripped with muscle. There’s an effortlessness to his movement—an artistry to the intricate figures that his blades score into the tempered surface.
Anxiety squirms in my belly like eels. “Yeah, if I trip and cut off my arm with my skate, this ringdefinitelywon’t alert my parents.”
Crew jerks his body parallel to mine, coming to a halt in front of me and kicking up a spray of ice. I glare at him as white shavings cover me from head to toe.
“Princess, that’s never going to happen. And wait a second—do you not know how to skate?”
I scoff, though my grip on the polyethylene is unrelenting. Pathetic, I know. My father’s a hockey coach, and I don’t know how to skate. I guess he never wanted to teach me in case the exertion strained my heart. In his defense, I never wanted to learn. Dance and ice skating may be estranged cousins, but at least dance doesn’t demand that I do death-defying tricks on three-millimeter-thick blades.
“Pish, I—I’ve dabbled,” I lie.
“Uh-huh. Very convincing.”
“I don’t need you to hold my hand.”
Longing is sewn into his features, and he levels a look at me that has my heart flip-flopping. “What if I want to?”
I’m like a ship thrown off course, and I’ve got the coordination and balance of a newborn colt right now. As embarrassing as this is—acting like a big baby in front of Crew—hanging on to him while he skates around seems like a humiliation ritual. I pride myself on being at the top of my class—in school and dance. I don’t ask for help, even when I should. I don’t like people knowing that I’m not…perfect.
“It’s fine. I can do it,” I grumble, though I haven’t moved an inch since we got on the ice.
Crew rolls his eyes. “Jesus, you’re stubborn, woman.”
“Well, you’re persistent.”
