Page 36 of The Underachiever’s Guide to Love and Saving the World

brYCE

I’d been hurled into a fantasy world, was almost punched by a stocky barman, and knew some Evil One was lurking, but the scariest thing yet was participating in a semi–emotionally deep conversation with Courtney.

She didn’t believe in love, and suddenly, I was consumed with the desire to change her mind, even though I knew happy endings and love didn’t go hand in hand.

Maybe it was the argumentative nature of our relationship; if she said something, I instinctually wanted to prove her wrong, no matter what that thing was.

Or maybe I wanted her to believe for the same reason parents lie to their children and tell them Santa is real; experiencing the magic was worth the letdown.

Except I’d never believed happiness was worth the letdown, so it was troubling that I wanted to convince Courtney it was.

I clenched my fingers around the pebble in my pocket. Something about the rock grounded me. It warmed until I could imagine the heat of Courtney’s hand against mine when she’d pressed the stone into my palm.

We reached the burial ground by late afternoon.

It was just a big, empty field surrounded by trees and lit by golden-hour sunlight.

It looked like the default background on a new laptop, all big blue skies, swaying grass, and wildflowers.

The only reason we knew we were in the right place was because there was a stone marker that said: Burial Ground.

I scanned the grass and darkening sky. No dragon, though massive claw prints marred the earth, dirt staining the grass. “So, we just… wait and see if it shows up?” I asked.

“Weren’t you listening to Amy’s dragon-fighting lecture?” Courtney asked, eyes dancing. “We must search. Not, like, for the dragon, but for ourselves , and each other .”

I chuckled. “And don’t forget, we have to feeeeel.”

The jovial mood disintegrated at the mention of feelings.

“I’m gonna just”—I jerked a finger over my shoulder—“do stuff… over there.”

“Absolutely,” she said. “And I’m going to”—she pointed in the opposite direction—“do things over here.”

“Good.” I smiled in what I hoped was a warm, unconcerned way.

“Fantastic!” She gave me a slightly unhinged thumbs-up before spinning on her heel and practically skipping away, going so far as to whistle as though she hadn’t felt the same tension in the air that I had.

Hours passed. It was nearing evening now, and if we didn’t find the dragon soon, we’d never make it back in time for the tournament in the morning.

We spent the time wandering the field, avoiding each other, and fiddling with our many weapons, hoping to spontaneously develop mind-blowing fighting skills. The only thing I spontaneously developed was mind-blowing shoulder pain after hyperextending my arm trying to throw a dagger.

A little way away, Courtney drew her bow from her back and notched an arrow. She pulled the string and went to let the arrow fly, but her fingers slipped. The string slapped against her arm, and the arrow fell pitifully to the ground.

Clutching her arm, she let out a unique arrangement of curses—something about fudgebiscuitsmotherfuckingfuckfuck , and I tried not to find it adorable.

I walked over. “Let me see.”

“I have been filleted,” she announced in a raw whisper, baring her arm and averting her eyes as though she feared what she might find.

Her forearm was slightly pink. Considering neither of us was even strong enough to pull the bow back all the way, I doubted it hurt as badly as she claimed. I cleared my throat. “Court.”

“What,” she whimpered.

“I don’t want to alarm you.”

“Oh my god.”

“Have you ever seen Cast Away ? Where the guy had to pull his own tooth?”

“Bryce.” She said my name like a plea, and I hated how much I liked it. “Where are you going with this?”

“We’re going to have to amputate. Here. Right now. I know it’s not ideal, but you won’t survive otherwise. You’ve lost too much blood.”

She risked a peek at her arm. Her wide, scared eyes narrowed to slits, and she yanked her arm away. “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you go fuck yourself?”

“And deny you the pleasure?” I fired back before I thought better of it. We’d made it all day without talking about last night, and here I was getting dangerously close to it.

Her stomach growled, snapping me out of it.

“Tell you what,” I said. “You recover from your mortal injury, and I’ll see what the mouse packed us to eat.”

Before she could protest, I swiftly walked back to our horses.

We were on the cusp of something. A boulder resting on the edge of a cliff. All it would take was one featherlight touch, and everything would crash down. I’d always known Courtney caused avalanches, just like I’d always known touching her was a bad idea.

Last night would’ve been a mistake. Who did I think I was? If her shoulder so much as brushed mine, my brain imagined deeper attachment. No way could I detach my idiotic feelings from my dick enough to pull off “strictly physical” with love isn’t real Courtney.

It would be fine. These types of feelings never lasted anyway. I just had to wait it out like you’d wait out a hurricane or a stock market drop or any other undesirable thing.

I unhooked the leather bag from Courtney’s horse and flipped open the top.

The logo of the store where Courtney worked greeted me, printed on a plastic bag.

It was so unexpected, I almost dropped the bag.

Then I realized what it meant. Courtney had mentioned she had groceries when she came through the portal.

Greg the mouse must’ve returned them to her. My heart drummed against my ribs.

Courtney walked up behind me, her hip bumping mine. Gritting my teeth, I tried not to sniff her hair like a weirdo. “Well? What’s in there?” she asked. Her stomach growled again.

“Nothing.” I tried to flip the top back over the bag, but she snatched it away.

She pulled out the grocery bag, fished around inside, then produced a box of pizza rolls.

“No way am I letting pizza rolls that have been left out for three days inside my body.” But my stomach growled, and questionable pizza rolls would be better than foraging for probably poisonous mushrooms.

Courtney dove back into the grocery bag. “I had stuff for peanut butter and jelly, but maybe the mouse ate it? Mice like peanut butter, right?”

Then she froze, letting the bag drift down to her side. “We have condoms.” Her tone was unreadable, and it was hard to make out her features with the setting sun behind her.

It was as I’d suspected. Condoms. Delivered from above. I heard angels singing.

I hushed the angels. Things were too rocky. If a feather would send the metaphorical boulder of doom off the metaphorical cliff, then sex would crack the world in half. Which would be inconvenient, considering our mission to save it.

Gently, I removed the bag from her fingers. I almost couldn’t resist the tantalizing idea of pushing aside her uncertainty and admitting I want you so badly I can’t breathe . “Food is more important.” I didn’t recognize the robotic voice issuing from my mouth.

Courtney looked at me like I’d unironically told a Why did the chicken cross the road? joke.

Maybe I did owe her an explanation, but there wasn’t a good way to say, You’re not my arch nemesis, and maybe you never were, but you have to be, because if you so much as hug me again, my pathetic ass will offer you my heart as a sacrifice and thank you when you inevitably destroy it .

No. That was too complicated. So I grunted, “Food,” again, my jaw locked to hold back everything else.