Page 51 of Confessions of a Virgin on a Dating App
“Alright,” I sighed. “I’ll go see a doctor.”
Devin looked relieved. “There’s an emergency room up the street. They take walk-ins.”
“I’m not going to th—”
“You should, Avery. They can run tests and figure out what’s wrong with you. Tonight. Don’t you want to feel better?”
I clenched my teeth as another wave of pain shook my body. “Yes.”
“Good.” Devin stood up. A loud rubbery whir echoed across the cheap tile as he pushed hischair in. “Now let’s go.”
I froze. “We?”
“Yes.”
“Devin.” I frowned. “I can drive myself.”
“Not when you’re hunched over in pain every five minutes,” he replied in a flat, sharp tone. One that indicated there was no talking him out of this. “Besides, didn’t you ride here with Cass?”
Shit.
My eyes flicked to the doorway. In the main storefront, the low drone of chattering voices carried into the breakroom. I didn’t want to pull Cassidy away from prerelease. Like me, she’d had a rough week, and she deserved to have fun tonight.
“Don’t you have a shop to run?”
“Jordan will be fine without me.” Devin stepped toward the doorway, gripping my bicep with his hand as I struggled to walk. In any other situation, Devin’s touch would’ve sent warm pulses buzzing through my skull like caffeine. But right now, I was in too much pain to care.
“Fine,” I grumbled. “Let’s go.”
“Great.”
More pain, this time so severe it nearly made me fall over.
“Here, hold onto me,” he wrapped an arm across my shoulder. “Otherwise, I’m gonna have to carry you again.”
I scoffed. His tone almost sounded flirtatious.
We approached the front door, barely noticed by the busy prerelease players in the opposite room. And I realized that in a sick, twisted way, I’d gotten my wish. Devin was talking to me again. We’d still have to discuss that night eventually, but at least he was no longer pretending that I didn’t exist.
Maybe he didn’t hate me.
Maybe we could still be friends.
As we strode across the parking lot, I collapsed in the middle of the road. My muscles tensed as his hands gripped my legs and back, once again lifting me up.
“It’s a good thing you’re tiny,” Devin chuckled as he walked across the parking lot, carrying me in his arms. Once again, the softness of his sweatshirt fabric contrasted with the firmness of his grip, and I had to resist the urge to press my head against his chest.
My heart plummeted.
I was never going to get over him.
I had never been inside Devin’s car before, and being lowered into the passenger seat sent a weird tingle down my spine. It made me suddenly aware of how little I knew about him outside the realm of the game shop.
It felt so foreign, but it was also exactly what I had expected. The car was a dark grey Ford Escape, not brand-new but no more than a few years old. The backseat was piled with cardboard boxes full of bulkC&Ccards, but the interior looked freshly vacuumed without any crumbs or dust on the floorboards. A set of fuzzy dice hung from the rearview mirror, bright red and shaped like d20s.
I slumped in my seat as Devin hopped in and turned his key in the ignition. The car roared to life as incredibly loud punk rock music blared from the speakers.
“Sorry,” Devin muttered, turning the stereo down and flipping the transmission into reverse. I slouched down further, my body curling in on itself as another wave of pain pummeled my abdomen. I gritted my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut, determined to ride out the worst of it without making a sound. I didn’t want Devin to think I was being dramatic.
