Chapter 18 #2
Hassie doesn’t indulge in my drivel. Instead, she drops my hands and pulls out her phone, something similar to nonchalance crossing her expression like this is just another one of my early-morning spirals.
Honestly, it kind of is. Except I’m tackling something way more important than grades or schoolwork or the cobwebbed pockets of my wallet.
I care for Knox in a way that terrifies me above all else.
I’m like a soldier caught in the trenches with nowhere to run, cornered by a familiar enemy.
I don’t even realize Hassie is scrolling on her phone until she shoves the screen of her device into my face. “Does this look like the face of a man who’s acting?”
I rear back so I can analyze the full picture, and lo and behold, Mustang Mania has posted one of Knox’s and my private moments aired for everyone to see.
He’s staring at me with admiration gleaming in his eyes—a searchlight in the darkness—and it’s one of those looks that I, foolishly, have never noticed before.
The world around me narrows to a focus point, blurring the sidelines of my periphery.
All I can see is the tilt of a smile on his face, the way he’s actively listening to whatever I’m boring him with, the eyes that revere me with a deep-seated respect I’ve never even received from my employers or professors.
Longing squeezes my insides, triggering my limbic system.
I blink back the tears that trespass on my waterlines.
I’ve yearned my whole life to be seen like this—for who I am rather than what I’m capable of.
Knox saw me first without even really knowing me.
And now, the proof is in the grainy picture.
Embarrassment threads through my voice, and I’m halfway to needing a new pair of pants as my fingernails demolish the denim.
“I…I don’t know anything about being in a relationship.
I don’t know anything about fornication.
I wasn’t made to be the girl who gets the guy.
I was made to be the quirky sidekick who’s perpetually single. ”
“Maybe start with not calling it ‘fornication’?” Hassie offers.
After spending way too long ogling Knox’s ridiculously good-looking face, I spring to my feet, eye twitching and hair all frizzy like I just trudged through a static storm.
Also known as my pre-caffeine, post-schoolwork, meltdown-prone craziness.
You’d think I spent all night trying to find the cure for cancer, not trying to recreate my own version of The Bachelorette.
“And my flirting is even worse! I don’t know how to flirt! All I know is how to maintain eye contact with a person.” I go stock-still, widening my eyes as I stare into the soul of my best friend.
Hassie shudders. “Okay, yeah. Definitely don’t do that.”
“What do I tell Leif? I don’t want to hurt his feelings. He’s going to think I’m a total bitch for switching up on him.”
“Considering he’s been a total dick to you these past few weeks, I think you get a pass.”
“I don’t want to lose either of them,” I whisper beneath my breath, yet the words sound louder than the explosion of a nuclear reactor.
With a sigh, Hassie rises to a stance, enveloping me in a hug that I didn’t know I needed. Her arms tighten around me just enough to steady me.
“And if they both really care about you, you won’t. They’d want you to be happy,” she says.
Happiness is something that has always come second for me. My accomplishments have, without fail, been more important, and I have nobody to blame but myself for setting such high expectations.
But here, as I stand in my bedroom, choking back tears, I’m not as fireproof as I once thought I was.
I want to know Knox like the back of my hand, I want to taste the sin on his tongue, I want to proudly display the mark of damnation he’s bitten into soft, feeble skin.
I want to be his, and I want the whole world to know it.
I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to realize how good I have it.
Hell, Knox paid for my hospital bill. (I mean, he kind of should have, but still.) He kept trying to make amends even though I did everything in my power to push him away.
He put my desires before his own because he knew how much Leif meant to me.
I always thought that having a selfish heart was one of the worst things you could do on this planet. Little did I know that trading contentment for contempt is an equally punishable crime.
I pull back from Hassie, a serpent winding around my neck and augmenting my pulse. “What am I supposed to say to Knox? Where do I even start?”
She purses her lips in thought. “The carnival is coming to town in a few days. Why don’t we make it a group thing?”
Ah, yes. Maple Grove’s very own Spring Fling Carnival shows up for one week in April, decked out in confectionaries sweet enough to give you a toothache, jumbo-sized stuffed animals that’ll have you playing the same rigged game over and over again, and a plethora of rides that are so poorly built they probably violate some kind of safety code.
The whole town shows up for the festivities.
I wasn’t planning on going, but this could be the perfect opportunity to get closer to Knox. Plus, maybe there is something romantic about being shoved into a rickety, semi-private gondola.
“Do you think Knox will say yes?”
My best friend’s self-assured smile sharpens. “Staten, I’m pretty sure that man would say yes to watching paint dry just to spend time with you.”