“I’m sorry, this couldn’t wait,” I preface, planting her outside and subsequently shoving my essay in her face.
She grumbles a few expletives under her breath but eventually concedes, taking the wrinkled paper and locking her eyes on the giant B+ still sitting pretty on the front. And just like that, her irritation becomes a nullified threat.
“Holy shit!” she squeals loudly, shedding her backpack so she has full articulation of her body. “You did it!”
It feels as if there’s an arrow fletched with affection, bound for one destination and one destination only—my heart. Almost throwing up my lungs was so worth getting to see her reaction.
My mouth hitches into a shit-eating grin. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Going into this arrangement, I never expected Staten and I to reach an armistice, but I can say, with full confidence, that the rod of tension between us has finally snapped.
She launches herself at me, twining her arms behind my neck and almost knocking me off my axis. In this split second of monumental history, neither of us admit that we prefer each other’s company to empty space.
My essay flutters to the ground, but I’m more focused on squeezing Staten back than preserving my first B plus. Elation is syrupy, sticky,sweet. Relief is similar to lighting a match on the first try, despite the howling winds that forbid it.
I can feel her heartbeat hammering against my chest—can smell the hints of lavender tucked beneath the waves of her hair. I hug her so hard that her feet come off the ground a few inches, and she yelps into the alcove of my neck, tightening herhold around me. I wish that I could freeze time. I wish that I could relive this memory over and over again.
When Staten’s heels reacquaint themselves with the ground and we both pull away, she pitches forward enough for it to be noticeable, her lips slightly off the mark of mine, like she was just about to?—
“Were you about to kiss me?” I ask, noting the call and response of our bodies, as well as the exodus of belly-dwelling butterflies traveling up the canal of my throat.
Her voice shoots up uncharacteristically high. “What? No! Of course not. I—it—I just tripped over my feet. Kiss you? Hah, please. That’s hilarious. I-I would never kiss you.”
Even though I don’t believe her for a second, the words still pistol-whip me. There’s a thumbprint of disappointment in between my ribs—one that raids any unspent confidence still lingering in the shadowed corners of bone.
“Ouch,” I joke.
She trembles a little. “Shit. No, that—that came out wrong. I just meant…”
I run my tongue over my canine, hitting her with a nerve-neutralizing smile. “Relax, Ace. I’m just messing with you.”
“Right.”
Would I have opposed being on the receiving end of Staten’s affection? No, no I would not have. Will that ever happen when Leif the Cockblock Kennedy stands in my way? No, no it will not.
I don’t remember a time when I felt this…content…with myself. It makes it harder for me to be selfish with Staten. I have to remind myself that her happiness comes before anything else in this world, and that she made this arrangement under the understanding that me helping her get Leif was a part of the package.
“How’s it going with lover boy?” I inquire, surmising that a change of subject will do both of us some good.
Staten’s jaw hardens. “It’s okay, I guess. He’s not giving me the cold shoulder anymore, which is good, but he’s acting strange around me.Possessive.Like he has something to prove,” she explains.
Ugh. Just what I wanted to hear.
Deep-rooted disgust agitates the baseline acid in my belly. “He’s marking his territory.”
The way she rears back is almost comical. “Excuse me?”
“Now that you’re off the market, his interest has gone up. Guys want what they can’t have. He never saw you as an option before because you were so readily available to him, but the minute you’re all over his ‘competition,’ he’s suddenly the one vying for your attention.”
Leif is punching out of his goddamn weight class. He should want Staten whether she’s entertaining another guy or not. He should want her because she’s…well,her. Freakishly intelligent, selfless, empathetic. It’s a miracle that he even thinks he has a chance with someone like her.
I’ve learned to read Staten pretty well over this past month—to the point where I can usually anticipate her next set of words—but nothing could prepare me for the question that punctures through me like a bullet with no exit wound.
“Is that how you feel?”
My fuckboy software glitches. “Huh?”
“Have you ever wanted something you couldn’t have?” she reiterates, imploring me with her large, doe eyes, waiting for me to spill the ubiquitous truth of the male species.
