Page 89 of Lovesick
I forgot all about the auction with everything going on. I was vehemently against the prospect of entertaining anyone who wasn’t Merit, and I still stand my ground. Even if it is for a forty-minute date at some overpriced restaurant.
Coach, unfortunately, doesn’t seem to be on my side tonight. “I think that’s a fantastic idea. As long as these ‘dates’ don’t distract my players too much.”
Since I’m within arm’s reach, he leans over to his right and smacks me on the back as an act of good show. I wince.
A smile flourishes over Merit’s mouth. “If the fundraiser is a success, Mrs. Burke might consider bringing me on as an official student teacher to help out with future projects.”
I can’t believe she didn’t tell her parents about us. Is she ashamed of me? Did I do something wrong? God, I can’t get this girl out of my head. She’s crawled underneath my skin, dug into viscera with the intent to scar, and it’s my fault for being far too ready to welcome her.
My brain just constantly chants:Merit, Merit, Merit. When I don’t see her, I have a bad day. When she doesn’t text me, I have a bad day. I’m no better than a dog with separation anxiety, whimpering at the door for its owner to return.
“The marketing class would be so lucky to have you,” Mrs. Lawson commends, opening up a bread roll as steam rises from the two fresh, crater-pocked halves.
“They would,” I agree, practically waving a giant neon sign above my head that saysLIAR, LIAR, SKATES ON FIRE.
Merit glances at me out of reflex, and then she hides her face with a heaping forkful of fettuccine.
While I’m allotted the time to observe her—watching herintently underneath the gaudy chandelier—I note a hollowness behind her eyes that betrays that picture-perfect smile on her face. Her parents can’t see through it, but I can. Maybe it’s because they’re not looking; maybe it’s because they don’t care. Whatever the reason, I’m the only one who seems to be impervious to her unconvincing mask.
She’s a warped mirage rippling up from hot asphalt, and when I try to wrap my arms around what I thought was tangible, I’m met with a blast of wind, as if she was only ever a figment of my imagination.
For the remainder of dinner, I don’t touch the rest of the food on my plate, even though my stomach aches with hunger.
Since my car chose theperfectmoment to run out of gas, Merit is now my chauffeur for the rest of the night. She offered to return my car to me in the morning after she runs to the store and gets a gas can.
I’m so hurt that she didn’t eventryto tell her parents. I had to sit across from them the whole evening and pretend like nothing’s changed.
Merit drums her fingers against the steering wheel, the profile of her face washed in astigmatic shafts of red from the stoplight in front of us. The rain—now playing percussion on her windshield—blurs any movement and bright colors from beyond the laminated glass. If it wasn’t for the miniature storm outside, we would be sitting in complete silence.
I didn’t realize a death knell could be so quiet.
I’m fuming like the soot-rimmed mouth of a volcano. “What the hell, Merit?” I finally say, frustration spuming in my belly.
“What?” The same hostility lines her tone.
“You didn’t think to come clean while we were all there? Iwould have said something, but I didn’t want to do anything without talking to you first.”
A stint of regret fastens to her features. “I didn’t want to blindside them. I just don’t know how to go about this whole thing without making a huge mess.”
Instead of putting myself in her shoes, or, you know, taking a fucking chill pill, I do the unwise thing and mark our graves before the dirt is even freshly overturned. Every hurt feeling rushes to the surface, dogpiling onto the rest of my repressed emotions that should’ve never seen the light of day, much less the light of her car.
“It’s going to be messy! This whole situation is messy. All you have to say is ‘Crew and I are dating!’”
“It’s not that easy.”
“You’re the one who’s making it hard.”
My nasal cavities sting from hidden tears, and my untouchable aura dissolves quicker than sugar in water.
I didn’t realize it before, but here, irradiated in the sickly glow of the shuttling streetlights, her calloused edges have been worn down. It dawns on me that the girl whom I thought was invincible is just a scared soul housed in an encasement of flesh, blood, and bone, as mortal and susceptible as I am.
This can’t be easy for her. I know what I want, but I have less at stake than she does. As much as I view Coach as the father figure I never had, he’sactuallyher dad. I don’t want to create a bigger rift between them, but I don’t want to be her goddamn sidepiece. Trust makes or breaks a relationship. Merit and I aren’t even together, and it’s obvious that we both have trust issues to overcome if we want to make things work.
I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I hate letting her parents come between us. I hate letting myinsecuritiescome between us. Merit isn’t like my past exes. She’s not doing this out of malice. She’s doing it out of fear—something I’m far too familiar with. I can’t fault her for wanting to make her parentshappy. I know I’d give anything in the world to make my dad proud.
I open my mouth to blabber out an apology, but she disbands what would be one long-winded atonement.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell them. I should have. I promised I would. I just keep hurting you,” she says with a shaky voice, that four-fingered tap of hers morphing into an unrelenting grip of the steering wheel. She stares ahead at the mostly abandoned road, a grim expression muddling her red-washed features.
