Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
Jenna yelled something murderous from her room.
The knocking came again. Louder.
I threw on a hoodie that may or may not have been clean, and padded down the hall in my short shorts.
“Who is it?” I called, voice scratchy.
“It’s Axel!”
Of course it was.
I opened the door, and there he stood. Fifteen pounds of enthusiasm packed into 210 pounds of actual muscle, wearing a too-thin jacket, beanie askew, and holding a coffee cup.
“Morning, Mac! I brought you breakfast.”
I blinked at him. “Why?”
He pushed the coffee into my hands. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”
“No, I absolutely want the answers. I—”
Before I could finish that fever dream of a sentence, he lifted a paper bag from under his arm and thrust it toward me. “Sandwich. Hash browns. A donut because sugar.”
I opened my mouth to say something else, but he was already jogging down the walkway.
The day only got weirder from there. Between classes, I was heading through the arts courtyard when Bear intercepted me like a bearded heat-seeking missile.
“Crys,” he rumbled.
“Bear,” I answered with a healthy amount of skepticism.
He thrust another cup toward me. “Steamer. Peppermint.”
“Okay, what the hell is—”
“Have a great day!” Then he walked away very quickly, which Bear never does. Bear moves like a glacier unless food is involved.
At lunch, I walked into the Douglas café, fully planning to grab soup and sprint to class, when Rory popped up in front of me like a jack-in-the-box.
“Hey! I’m buying you lunch today.”
I crossed my arms. “No you’re not. Not unless you tell me what’s going on.”
He scoffed, the picture of innocence. “Can’t we show a little love to one of our biggest fans?”
I stared him down. “Rory.”
He mirrored my pose. “Crystal. You can tell me what you want or I’ll order you my favourite.”
“Which is?”
“Burger. Four patties.”
I pursed my lips. “Fine. Panini.”
“Got it. And a cookie!”
The final straw came after my last class. I was packing my bag when the classroom door swung open and in walked Nick. Holding flowers.
“For you,” he said brightly.
I threw out my hands. “Okay, seriously. Is someone dead?”
Nick laughed, handing me the bouquet. “Nope. See you tonight. You’re coming to the game, right?”
“Yep, I’m—” I froze.
Well, you can’t just give it to them. You have to make them earn it.
Okay, I’ve got it. I’ll email them.
Logan frigging Kemp.