A new looping thought enters the mix, and this one grabs me by the collar and shakes without reluctance.
Why are you freaking out over Leif when Knox fucking Mulligan is in your bedroom right now? Onyourbed?
Knox and I are just friends.
Friends who fake date.
Exactly. So what’s your point, Inner Me?
My point is that you could ditch the friendzoner and take advantage of this entire situation by test-driving the car before buying it.
Test-driving what?
Oh my God, the car is Knox.
Everything clicks for me rather slowly, and when I come to terms with my initial shock, I’m no better than a field mouse shrinking under the shadow of outstretched talons.
I don’t see Knox as a potential suitor…do I? No, I don’t.I can’t.I’m committed to Leif, and I’m a one-man kind of girl. Though, my lucidity doesn’t come without its own pitfall—there’s a flicker of chemistry between me and Knox that I know is waiting to catch fire. A flicker of chemistry that could do irreversible damage to our arrangement.
I need to stop kneading my own worry before it holds shape. Phone still in hand, I glance down at the text message I’ve typed out, and it definitely doesn’t live up to the standards that Knox is familiarly adamant about.
ME
Hi, Leif! I’m so happy you texted me! I’ve been waiting forever. I can come over right now if you’re free? I really want to see you too!
Knox, who leans over my shoulder, tallies up my abhorrent overuse of exclamation points like he’s analyzing forensics rather than the insecurity-projecting truth of my lovelorn heart.
“Yeah, absolutely not. Keep typing so the text bubble shows up on his end, but don’t actually send anything,” he instructs jadedly, as if he has a master’s degree in flirtation.
My brows squeeze together. “What? Why?”
“It’ll drive him crazy. Trust me.”
With nothing to lose, I do as my new love guru says, keeping the text bubble open as I wait for some satisfactory results. And sure enough, within seconds, Leif’s own bubblepops up in the message thread, disappears, reappears, then repeats that cycle a countless number of times.
I think this is the first time Knox hasn’t led me astray.
“Oh my God, it’s working.”
“See? Now just type out ‘Sure’ with a period. No exclamation points, no paragraph-long response, and especially no emojis. Make him work for your attention.”
Knox and I have been physically close before—whether it’s because I’m trying to scoot past him in a tight space, or he’s eclipsing me with that six-foot-three height of his—but feeling the plumage of his warm, minty breath on my neck is a first.
From our position, I can make out the map of veins over his forearms, the mere size of his one-man gun show honed to raise my goose bumps from the dead. The addictive scent of his cologne is more powerful than morphine, healing a painful loneliness that I hadn’t realized I even had. I don’t disclose the golf-ball-sized lump that has since formed in my throat.
Wordlessly, I delete my embarrassing confession, sending a condensed message instead that will hopefully preserve my dignity and Leif’s interest.
ME
Sure.
Leif texts me instantly—something he’s never done in the two years that I’ve known him.
LEIF
Perfect. I miss you so much. Are you free tonight? We can have a trashy rom-com movie marathon and drink every time a character gives us secondhand embarrassment.
My eyes gravitate toward the time. Nine-thirty p.m. On any other normal night, I’d already be in bed.
