Page 69 of Lovefool

Stomach turning like a backed-up cement mixer, I urgently crank the air conditioner up to cool the beads of sweat on my forehead. If it wasn’t for the road’s unfilled potholes jittering the car each time—an actual safety hazard the town board reduced to an everyday nuisance—I’d wonder if she could hear my heart sprinting against my ribs.

“Right…okay.” Her tone possesses the tiniest shred of skepticism as she squints her eyes at me, though some of the tension does ease from her shoulders.

I like to think of myself as a pretty romantic guy, and I wanted to plan a date that would make her feel special. The movies are a cop-out, a coffee shop is a bit too underwhelming for my liking, a hike is suspicious and definitely some form of cruel and unusual punishment, and if I told her to wear something nice, she’d sniff out the truth.

So, employing the single combined brain cell between me and my friends, we came up with the perfect idea. Knox suggested a picnic, and Crew suggested stargazing for when it gets darker. It’s low energy, and it’s intimate.

I packed all the necessities—probably too much, but better safe than sorry. A fresh fruit platter that could be featured in a gourmet magazine, artisanal lemonade from this upscale grocery store down the street, a charcuterie board with an array of spicy pepperoni, homemade sourdough, and espresso lavender cheese, my famous chocolate chip cookies, and two massive prosciutto sandwiches for the main course.

So much has happened in the span of a few days—the Mustangs are going to the Frozen Four. I’ve been training for this for months. I’ve known Lake for months. She’s been writing articles about the team for months. Realistically, we were only supposed to work with the school newspaper for a month or two, but that was before we made it to the national championship. Now her boss has instructed her to cover the championship games.

All this good luck just gives me an excuse to spend more time with her, and that’s the biggest win of all.

I periodically glance over at her as she leans her head against the passenger window, staring out of the glass. Her face is rictus except for the way her teeth toy with her bottom lip. She’s still on high alert.

Maybe I should just tell her that I’m kidnapping her for the day. She won’t be mad, right? I mean, she did tell me she was free. I did anything a sane, levelheaded person would do: I planned a whole day just for her.

I’m about to spew my not-so-secret game plan when Lake’s stomach grumbles audibly and she sighs.

I immediately launch into fix-it mode. “You’re not eating enough,” I tell her bluntly, though my delivery could’ve used some consideration.

She slowly side-eyes me with a muted anger that’s usually reserved for opinionated boyfriends. Her voice fractures a register while she probably imagines biting my head off in the middle of driving. “Now you’re keeping tabs on my eating habits?”

“No, I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I…”

Sensing that I just stumbled into a metaphorical thicket of bad decisions, I pop open the center console as an apology, imploring her to look over and see the emergency stash of pink Starbursts I’ve been hoarding for a moment just like this.

Her eyes widen. “Where the hell is all your stuff?”

I ignore her question. “They may not be nutritious, but at least it’s enough to hold you over until we get⁠—”

Oh, fuck.

Suddenly, Lake sits up straight, straining against her seatbelt. She’s like a fearful little cat that just realized we’re heading to the vet instead of the Starbucks drive-thru for a kitty cup. “Get where, Sutton?”

Her tone is surprisingly calm considering I just popped the thin membrane of our fantasy.

“Um.” The nerves in my gut have a vendetta against me.

DO NOT RUIN THE SURPRISE.

“Where are you taking me, Sutton?” she presses again, glaring at me with unblinking eyes, looking more murderous than she usually does.

Hah, I’m very much in danger right now.

I miss the exit for the college. She notices I miss the exit for the college.

“It’s a surprise?” I offer weakly.

“A surprise?”

Luckily for me, the clearing I’ve scouted for our date is only a few more minutes down the road. I don’t really know what kind of reverse psychology she’s subconsciously thumbtacked into my brain, but my anxiety lets like blood from my body.

I lay my scruples to rest in an unmarked grave. You know, considering I practically kidnapped her.

“I promise this will be better than having to work on your article. You deserve a break, and I doubt you would’ve taken one if I’d suggested it,” I coax.

Lake opens her mouth to discredit my statement before slamming it shut. She knows I’m right. She doesn’t stand still in one place for very long, and I don’t hold it against her. I think she feels like she constantly has to be working to make up for her mother’s lack of effort. She’s going to burn out, and it’s my unofficial duty to make sure that doesn’t happen.