Chapter 18
HOW THE TABLES HAVE TURNED
STATEN
“Why did you call an emergency meeting?” Hassie asks, plopping down on my bed.
“I’m having a crisis,” I tell her, pacing frantically around the perimeter of my bedroom, probably close to creating a trench in the floorboards.
“A sex crisis?”
“What? No! Jesus. No—a regular crisis.”
Well, I don’t think it’s a sex crisis. God, I’d take that over the Knox rabbit hole that I seemed to have tumbled down. At least I’d be getting railed while confronting the life-ruining emotions that have made my heart their new stomping grounds.
Ever since Knox and I rejoiced over his essay grade, I’ve been second-guessing every interaction we’ve had. Dissecting. Digesting.
He’s getting worse at hiding his feelings, and I can’t believe I’ve been this stubborn to accept it, but he…
he may like like me. His drunk confession, our not-so-platonic eye fucking session, all the little touches and compliments in between—they all point to something more.
Something I’d hoped would stay at bay while I try to decide what to do about Leif.
Leif is the one I want, right? I mean, he’s the reason I agreed to this fake dating ruse with Knox.
I’ve wanted Leif for years, but…fuck. Of course Knox Mulligan had to make my crush obsolete with his all-American appeal and those eyes of his that are bluer than a stovetop flame with too much oxygen.
I can’t escape him—not when I’m sleeping, not when I’m working.
I wonder if it’s a side effect of being touch-starved for so long, clinging to the first person who views me as more than a walking cheat sheet.
I don’t know how much longer I can convince myself that he’s not wedging himself under my skin like one hard-to-reach splinter.
When I’m with Knox—whether we’re studying or getting food or simply just talking—I forget about our arrangement altogether.
I forget that our relationship is a product of monetary gain rather than real, human connection.
That’s a feat, you know—to have the ability to distract me, of all people, from my finances and the tedious routine of my work.
Nothing mutes my brain quite like Knox does.
I dial my voice an octave lower. Ridiculous, seeing as there’s nobody trying to eavesdrop on our conversation. “I think Knox likes me.”
Admitting it out loud is the equivalent of hearing a gunshot go off in the middle of the woods, on the outskirts of suburbia, where it doesn’t belong. Insidiousness infecting innocence, marking a quiet, unproblematic town as the next hotspot for true crime.
Hassie’s eyebrows pique, and she gives me one of her famous seriously? looks. “Yeah, I would hope so.”
Shit. That’s right. I failed to mention to my best friend that my relationship with Knox is fake.
My feet skid to a halt, and I wring my hands together, my nerves going absolutely haywire at the prospect of spilling a secret that’s only half mine to share. My stomach somersaults as my heart thunders like a hundred hooves slapping against fallow farmland.
I take a seat next to Hassie, internally prepare myself for the hell that’s about to ensue, and then utter the truth that’s had me playing tug-of-war with an immovable object. I.e., Knox.
“We’re not actually dating. It’s…it’s all fake. I just wanted to make Leif jealous,” I admit shamefully, plucking at an undone thread that’s eaten a hole through the kneecap of my aged jeans.
A minute elapses before either of us say anything, and Hassie occupies herself by staring at some exceptionally fascinating wood grain on the ground.
I can practically see the blinking cursor above her head.
I know my best friend is more understanding than most people in this world, but that doesn’t mean she won’t murder me for lying to her.
However, disappointment is a runner-up to confusion. “Wait a second, you like Leif?”
“It wasn’t obvious?”
Hassie mentally leafs through her filing cabinet of group memories before conceding with a prolonged “ohhh.”
She shakes her blonde hair, letting a few strands cascade down her small-framed shoulders. “So, you’re fake dating Knox to make Leif jealous?”
“Bingo.”
The humorless laugh that spews out of me sounds deranged at best, similar to a hose bursting with excessive water pressure. This whole ordeal has taken years off my life. I’m going crazy. Like, straight-jacket crazy.
“And you think Knox misunderstood the arrangement and actually has feelings for you?” she elaborates.
Oh, I don’t think, sweet Hassie. I know.
“Yep,” I eke out, my throat scratchy like a hangover-turned-cold just clocked in for work, the single syllable soaked in coldblooded fear.
“Is that such a bad thing?”
Is that such a bad thing?
Uh, yes, Hassie. Yes, it very much is. Knox Mulligan is so far out of my league that I constantly doubt his feelings toward me.
Plus, it doesn’t help that Mustang Mania has already weighed in on our relationship and deemed it “highly improbable but cute.” Half of the female student population wants to see my head on a stick.
“Knox can’t like me, Hassie. He just can’t.”
“Because you’re afraid you might feel the same way?”
I’m afraid of so much.
The area between love and lust is a gray one—not saying that Knox loves me or anything—but even I can distinguish the way in which Leif and him both look at me.
Infatuation versus genuine affection. Leif wants what he can’t have, and Knox wants what he might lose.
Love triangles are only supposed to exist in stupid teen dramas, not my real life.
“I don’t know anything about being in a relationship. Fake or not. Knox…he…we’re just supposed to be friends.”
God, I feel like I’m an animal being hunted for sport, unknowingly bobbing in the scope of a rifle, unaware of the horrors that await one measly trigger pull. Maybe it’s the melodrama talking, but death seems less nerve-wracking than the web I’ve caught myself in.
Hassie suddenly grabs my hands and holds them in hers, looking me straight in the eyes.
“Staten, I say this with all the love in my heart, but you’re overthinking this.
You don’t need to punish yourself for feeling a certain way.
What if Knox likes you, and you like him back?
Why would that be the worst thing in the world? ”
Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I’m a schedule follower and I’m not equipped to handle both of my admirers going off script.
Maybe because both guys bring great things to the table, and I don’t want to be responsible for breaking one of their hearts.
Guys don’t have crushes on me. Guys like Knox Mulligan don’t have crushes on me.
My mind is a freight train screeching against steel tracks. “I don’t want to ruin my friendship with Knox. And I…I’m afraid of listening to my heart rather than my head,” I admit.
I already ruined my friendship with Leif, but Knox is different. I don’t have to put on a facade for him. I don’t have to hide my financial status. He accepts me for who I am—he appreciates my flaws just as much as my strengths.
Sympathy drapes over Hassie’s face. “I know you don’t want to hurt either of them, but the only one you’re hurting right now is yourself.
You deserve to experience love, Staten. You deserve grace when you make mistakes.
That’s just a part of life. You’d be doing a disservice to yourself if you didn’t hear Knox out.
I know you’ve had your heart set on Leif, but if Knox is showing up when you didn’t expect him to, maybe it’s time to rethink your priorities. ”
I hate it when she’s right. Come on, Staten.
Who’s been by your side through this entire thing?
The minute Knox entered the picture, Leif made you feel like…
like you had to choose between the two of them.
He ignored you. He belittled you. He only wanted you because, for the first time in the two years you’ve known him, he saw you as desirable.
But Knox—he didn’t have to wait around for competition.
He knew what he wanted from the start, and he’s been determined ever since to get your attention.
He was there for you when you were on the verge of tears and hysteria.
He was there for you when you were at your lowest. He was there for you when you were convinced you’d be alone forever.
When you really break everything down, why is Leif even a contender?
Jeez, that’s saying a lot. The guy who hit me with his car has been a better friend to me than the guy who I met in a crimeless orientation group.
My nerves have a vendetta against me, and although I’m never one to shuck off my emotion-resistant exoskeleton, I know that suppressing my fears will only make them more resentful. It feels like there’s fiberglass scraping against the mesh of my lungs with microscopic pinpricks.
“What if I lose him forever? I don’t think I can risk it.”
Hassie’s frown broadens. “Do you really think that stringing him along is the way to keep him? You have to come to terms with the truth at some point.”
This is my worst nightmare. I think I’d rather flunk all my classes than have to deal with the responsibility of two different hearts. And that’s saying something.
“Knox and I are from two different worlds. We don’t make any sense together.
Maybe I’m just misunderstanding this whole thing, you know?
Maybe he’s just a really good actor,” I ramble, unsure of who I’m trying to convince at this point, all kinds of harebrained explanations forming a queue in my head.
God, even an amateur poker player can bluff better than me.