Shit. Oh, shit. Crap. Crappity crap fucking shit. I never wanted Knox and Leif to meet. It was already a close call at the bar. I’ve only known Knox for a few weeks, but I wouldn’t put it past him to embarrass me in front of my crush. This isn’t happening. Can I fake a heart attack? Maybe I can crawl under the table and make a break for the exit?
You just have to be cool, Staten. You’re not doing anything illegal. You’re tutoring your client in a very professional setting. Pfft, it’s not like you guys just shared your deepest, darkest fears with each other.
“Hi, Leif!” I half-shout with a little too much enthusiasm.
Someone huddled in the corner—clutching their deckle-edged book like Gollum—shushes us rather aggressively.
What the hell is Leif doing here? I mean, yeah, this is a library, and yeah, most students utilize the resources here, but he seriously couldn’t ambush me at a better time?
I glance at Knox—who’s glued to this approaching disasterof an interaction—and the only two men in my life are on a collision course that’s ironically going to hit me the hardest.
Leif’s eyes flick to my “study buddy,” a friendly, naïve smile dimpling his cheeks. Leif, like the majority of the male population, can be clueless at times, and thankfully, this is one of those times. “You didn’t tell me you were studying today. I would’ve joined you.”
I parse through possible responses before the devil on my shoulder proposes a little white lie—one guaranteed to preserve my picture-perfect image. I purposefully keep my home life a secret. I don’t need people knowing that I’m struggling, and I don’t want people to treat me any differently if they find out I’m a scholarship kid, Leif included. Does that make me a bad friend? Maybe, but I’m not ready to lose the only person who’s been by my side this entire time.
“Uh, yeah! Yeah, we’re just studying. I love studying. Studying is so much fun. I could study all day every day,” I blabber uncontrollably, my pulse ticking into tachycardia territory, and my fingers scrunching an innocent piece of binder paper.
Beautiful, oblivious Leif doesn’t clock the fact that my nerves are riding shotgun. And some might say that they’re even more murderous than Knox and his negligent driving.
Leif hikes the strap of his backpack higher on his shoulder. It’s almost endearing how socially unaware he is. “Cool, cool. I’m glad I ran into you because I was meaning to talk to you. You down to go watch the mathematics competition this Friday night? I heard it should be a pretty tight race.”
A mathematics competition? What part of reciting pi and watching nerds (nonderogatory) throw playground insults at each other screams romantic? I’m all for supporting my fellow peers, but respectfully, I’d rather cliff dive into shallow waters.
For the first time in forever, Knox and I are seemingly on the same page, and even he looks unimpressed.
“A mathematics competition?” I parrot, needing to hear the absurdity out loud to confirm that it isn’t, in fact, a figment of my imagination.
Oh, what I’d give to fast-forward through this humiliating conversation. Along with my newly accustomed embarrassment, disappointment is a serrated blade that pits itself between the slats of my ribs, just inches from nicking my pericardium.
“Yeah. If you bring a friend, you get a free hot dog with any purchase at the concession stand. I don’t know any better way to spend a Friday night.”
Friend.
God, I’m pathetic. Leif may have been the one to put me in the friend zone, but I’m the only obstacle standing in my way. I’m too self-conscious to pursue things with him. I’d rather suffer from a lovelorn heart than disrupt our dynamic.
I don’t want to spend Friday night eating a lukewarm hot dog in an uncomfortable, plastic chair while algebraic formulas lobotomize my brain. I don’t want to spend Friday night pretending that I’m not hopelessly in love with my best friend. I want to go on a date, in a nice dress, with the man of my dreams. I want to share chocolate mousse and laugh at his jokes and have the waiter compliment us on being the cutest couple in the restaurant.
But that’s a reality that just won’t actualize.
I open my mouth to say something—anything—yet I don’t have the heart to decline his invitation. So, as the painful syllables are halfway to egressing from between my clamped teeth, a prayer in the shape of Knox Mulligan saves me from making a gargantuan mistake.
He immediately grabs my hand, interlocks our fingers, and addresses Leif for the first time since he crashed our intimately non-intimate tutoring session.
“Sorry, bud. I’m taking Staten out to dinner that night. Ather favorite restaurant. The one…um…the one with the”—Knox scrunches his nose and snaps his fingers—“fancy booth. Yep, and the…fancy lighting.”
What. The. Holy. Hell. Is. He. Doing.
I don’t jerk my arm away in pure revulsion. I’m too shocked. Honestly, this would all be comical if it didn’t feel like my stomach was freefalling out of my ass. My palm grows clammy, but it’s not enough to deter Knox and his savior complex.
Leif blinks. Once, twice. Stares at the evidence of our neatly dressed lie. I can practically see the unoiled gears in his head turning, and when he comprehends Knox’s territorial claim—the equivalent of a wolf scent-marking his mate—his eyes double in size.
“You two are together?” he exclaims.
I pause. Shit. What am I supposed to say? He’s going to see through me like a poorly executed hammer play.
“Um, well…”
Knox’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and he discreetly crushes my hand hard enough to leash my tongue. “It’s all super new, but I knew from the moment I saw Staten that I wanted to be hers, you know? I mean, how can anyonenotbe infatuated with her?”
