Page 48 of The Underachiever’s Guide to Love and Saving the World

brYCE

I simply did not have the testicular fortitude needed to make grand declarations.

We did have a moment in the rain. I did have feelings.

This was the point where we should be confessing them.

I liked Courtney. Really liked her. She finally let me in on her joke.

While everyone else strove for success, she’d already won.

The whole time I was hiding inside, she was living, too brave to conform.

My head was dull and fuzzy, and every beat of my heart hurt. My soul felt fractured, broken on the outside, but with tentative rivulets of hope trickling from the cracks, stinging my wounds. She didn’t want me and wanted me at the same time. What was I supposed to do with that?

I could ask her to explain.

Or I could tell her how I felt.

If we would have admitted neither of us cared about being Chosen Ones from the beginning, we might’ve worked together and been home by now. A misunderstanding. Which led to more misunderstandings. Which led to dragons and skeletons and Amy, oh my.

I paced around the same way I had on The Infamous Day of Buzzing, when I’d listened to Courtney’s beautiful moans through the wall in agony, unable to decide what to do with myself.

I’d finally sat at my computer and typed and deleted three different names for my Wi-Fi network: YoureKillingMe.

LetMeComeOver. FuckMe. That last one had been both a curse and a request.

In the end, indecision had run out, and I’d ended up typing nothing. All the possibilities of what might have happened if I’d knocked on her door stayed locked away in fantasy.

Not this time. I’d take a page out of Courtney’s book. She didn’t filter herself, and neither would I.

Before I could change my mind, I raced across the hall and barged into Courtney’s room. Her bed sat empty.

Cold sweat broke out across my skin. I charged into the hall, where I almost bowled over a maid.

“Don’t get yourself worked up.” The maid sighed. “ Honestly. She’s only in the library.”

She gave me directions, and I was off, careening around corners and sliding through doorways.

I found the library and quietly went inside. Utter darkness consumed the room, save for a faint glow from the far side. The glow—candlelight—flickered through tall bookshelves, barely providing me enough light to navigate the room.

The library had that musty, ancient smell to it, a room locked away from time itself. Books overflowed the wooden shelves, dusty tomes stacked in tall haphazard piles. One of Amy’s signature purple robes draped over the back of a chair. He must spend a lot of time here doing various Wizard Tasks.

I weaved among stacks of books and overstuffed chairs until I spied Courtney through a gap in a bookshelf.

She sat on a wooden stool at a cluttered desk, one foot pulled under her, a cloak wrapped around her shoulders.

Her messy hair stood on end, bright blue, backlit by candlelight.

She hunched over a giant book, finger trailing over the page.

I started forward, stubbing my toe against a tower of books. I stifled a curse as it toppled, dust flying and pages scattering over the floor. Courtney whirled.

“Bryce?” She squinted into the darkness. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to tell you something. What are you doing in here?” I didn’t know why I was whispering, only that it was a library, and it felt like I should.

Courtney avoided eye contact, faking casual a bit too hard, considering our last interaction. “I’m trying to find information on dragon hunting. No luck so far. I did find this weird potion book, though—”

“Who cares about that,” I said, even though a dragon terrorizing the countryside was arguably a higher priority than my feelings. I strode across the room. “You know what the leading cause of death and trauma is in books? Hint, it’s not what you think.”

Pushing back her stool, she looked up at me. “Gee, BuzzFeed, I don’t know.”

“Miscommunication. It’s miscommunication.” I hoisted myself onto the desk and scooched her stool with my foot until she faced me. “We need to talk this through, but don’t freak out. It’s not like we have to act on anything.”

Courtney pulled her cloak tighter around her nightgown. “Act on… what?”

“From now on, no more hiding things. This is about survival. We need to communicate.” When she nodded, I steadied my resolve and blurted, “That starts with me saying I have a moderate-to-severe feeling. For you.”

Courtney visibly recoiled. “Oh my god, Bryce. It’s not rheumatoid arthritis.” She made a face. “Is this supposed to seduce me?”

I caught her knee and leaned forward. “Courtney, would you listen for a second?” My voice rose to a level that was probably making every librarian alive feel a prickle in their neck. “I’m trying to wax poetic, and you’re being such a dick about it.”

She threw up her hands. “I already know what you’re going to say. I know you think you like me, but you don’t. You really don’t. You only like me because you’re impressed with how hard I’ve been working.”

“If I were attracted to people who worked hard, do you think I’d be attracted to you ?

” I scrubbed a hand down my face, regaining control of my soaring emotions.

“You know what?” I said, softer. “I’m scared of pretty much everything, but you’re the real coward.

You’re so afraid of people finding you unlovable that you’ve made yourself unlovable. You won’t even try.”

“I am unlovable, Bryce. I am what I am, and no one can tolerate it.”

“You are what you are, but you act like you’re not. Hate to break it to you, but you’re still wearing a mask, Courtney, a mask for yourself.”

“Wow, very deep. Thanks, Dr. Phil.”

“Shut up. You are. You pretend not to care about anything, but you steal chairs for people and make daisy chains for little girls and save dying old guys, and you help me view myself and the whole damn world less seriously, and I can tolerate that, Courtney. I’ll tolerate the shit out of you.”

Scrambling off her stool, Courtney gripped my shoulders and gave me a little shake.

“You want to communicate? Fine. You’ve built a fantasy of me in your mind, and one day, I’ll let you down.

A handful of redeeming qualities doesn’t make me unique or special.

I don’t have some deeper insight into the world.

I’m just a girl who’s tired .” Her eyes shone, refracting glimpses of something shattered within her.

“You know why this can’t work? You have abandonment issues, and I have commitment problems. Don’t you see?

My favorite thing to do is quit things, and I can’t make promises to someone who deserves promises of forever. ”

My heart fluttered in my throat. She cared, and that was the issue. She cared too much.

For the first time in my life, a feeling of wild recklessness seized me. “Maybe we could learn,” I whispered. “Maybe we’re capable of more than we think. Maybe you’re the type of girl who can keep a promise, and maybe I’m the type of guy who can learn to play tag in the dark.”

I bent to the side and, with one quick puff of air, extinguished the candle.

“Bryce?” Her voice came softly through the shadows.

Reaching out, I pressed my palm to her cheek. “Tag. You’re it.” Your move.

I hopped off the desk and darted away. It was nearly pitch black, a soft touch of gray on the horizon outside the window providing the only light.

Vague outlines of objects kept me from becoming a complete bull in a china shop.

Even so, I slammed right into two more stacks of books, sending them thundering to the floor.

Courtney’s surprised laughter rang out behind me, free of irony, full of genuine happiness.

My pulse raced, a few of my old fears trying to creep back in with every murky shadow I passed.

I skimmed my fingers over a shelf, guiding my way.

Her footsteps padded behind me, closer, closer, closer.

My breath quickened. Every cell in my body strained, screaming to shut this down because whatever happened next was sure to kill me with happiness. I wanted to run.

I came to a stop.

Courtney slammed into my back, flinging her arms around my waist to keep from falling. “Tag.” She gasped for breath. “Take off your shirt.”

My fear morphed into a rush of exhilaration. Maybe she was right. Activities were more exciting in the dark. “You sure you want to start that game?”

“Take it off.” Then she was gone, footsteps receding into the shadows, rows of books muffling their noise.

I started after her, fingers working my shirt buttons loose. I shrugged it off, thin material fluttering to the ground. My other senses expanded in the darkness. “Cooouuurtney?” I drew out her name. “Where are you?”

A flutter of paper to my left. I pivoted, stalking the sound. THUD. A book hit the ground to my right. I spun. She played dirty. I’d play dirtier. Feeling around, I found a bookshelf and leaned against it. Closed my eyes. Focused.

I pictured Courtney, waking up early to hang Christmas lights in her yard. Pictured her saying rude things to scare me out of being scared. Pictured her hands in my shirt and her lips against mine.

“Bryce, that’s cheating!” came her yell.

“Gotcha.” A triumphant smile spread across my face, and I opened my eyes. A blinding orange light shone a few aisles away.

I took my sweet time. There was no point in her running.

She obviously hadn’t figured that out, because she still tried, an orange blur streaking among the books. No longer feeling patient, though, I ran after her, cornering her quickly in a dead-end aisle.

She turned, arms crossed, pale orange magic floating around her skin like a beacon.

I strode up to her and poked her in the forehead. “Take off your nightgown.”

“That’s not how strip games work.” Courtney scowled. “You have to work up to it.” She yanked the cloak off her shoulders and tossed it at my head. Trying to catch me off guard, she lunged forward, but I jumped back and took off.

About ten seconds later, a telltale tingling warmth trickled down my neck, and I drew up short. It was the intensity of someone’s full attention mixed with the soft feeling of drifting off to sleep on the couch in the middle of the day.

Blue light swirled from my skin in wisps. She had me. I glanced over my shoulder. A blur of orange grew brighter.

I was off, Courtney right behind me. Blue and orange flashed among the bookshelves.

Laughter and giddy breathlessness wrapped up in anticipation.

The sun outside finally burst over the horizon.

Sunbeams gleamed through cloudy windows, swirling with lazy dust mites.

For a moment, we were cocooned in our own little world of joy and safety.

My lungs ached and my pulse raced by the time she caught me back by the desk, slamming into my chest so hard I nearly fell over. I kicked off my socks and tagged her before she could run.

She wiggled out of her own socks and tagged me right back.

We panted, standing frozen in a sunbeam. Golden light cast long shadows across her face. Her smile faded. So did mine.

“Courtney,” I said, voice hushed, “it’s been one interruption after another.

If we’re going to do this, we should do it.

Now. Before we get eaten by a dragon or speared by a skeleton or some new horror finds us.

” I pulled a condom from my pocket. “I didn’t want to presume, but, well, after last time, I figured it was better to be prepared—”

A gleam ignited in her eyes, and she crashed into me, smooth palms skimming down my bare torso, my skin quivering at her touch. I stumbled back and would have fallen if I hadn’t backed into the desk.

“Fuck,” I cursed, reaching back to grip the edge of the wood.

“That’s the idea,” she whispered, breath hot against my lips.

My hands grasped her hips, yanking her hard against me, and I brought my lips down on hers.

Tongues and teeth and lips mingled, overwhelming me in sensation.

I splayed my fingers over her jaw and neck, thumb brushing hair from her eyes.

Her lips were soft as they ravaged mine, the sweetest oxymoron I could imagine.

She flicked her tongue into my mouth, and I chased after her when she pulled away, cradled her neck, and drew her back. The table dug into the backs of my legs as she ground against me, breaths soft and shallow.

Pushing off the table, I turned us, pinning her against the space I just occupied. Toeing her feet apart, I stepped between her legs, hoisting her onto the desk, her butt crushing many an ancient tome.

Reaching behind her, I shoved everything I could reach off the desk. Books, jars, and other library junk crashed to the floor, plumes of dust swirling into the rays of light surrounding us. Every librarian alive probably just woke up in a cold sweat.

Our lips met again. I slid my hands up her nightgown. Her thighs were so soft, I let out an almost pathetic groan. She shivered, shifting closer, smiling against my mouth. With frantic fingers, we helped each other free of our clothing.

“We could be in one of your books,” she whispered. “Library sex seems like a thing people with pebbly nipples do. This must be like a dream come true for you.” She pressed her lips tight, eyes dancing.

I grinned. “It would be something like, His tongue worshiped her heaving bosoms, suckling one pebbled peak after the other. Her silky flesh writhed and undulated against his steely, incredibly muscled body in response to his ministrations. He knelt before her sweet love canal— ”

“It’s not a fjord, Bryce.” Courtney dissolved into giggles.

“Shh, respect my craft.” I raised my voice over her snorts. “You could say the noble, and impressively well-endowed duke, knew a thing or two about fording fjords, and as a result, was skilled in the art of… fjordplay.”

Courtney covered her ears. “La, la, la, stop it! I’m not listening!”

I smiled, letting my gaze drift over her. “Good. I’m done talking.”