How was I supposed to juggle that? A no-string-attached deal was one thing. But the developing feelings, emotional baggageand all the other complicated things that came with having an actual, full-fledged relationship, well, that was something else entirely.
More than that, what would Lucas say if he knew the intelligent, ambitious student he admired so much wanted three men at once, two of whom were his friends? Would he look at me the same way or would that ruin any chance I had of being more than just a foolish student to him?
As my mind started doing laps, he seemed to sense that I was distant. Lucas reached out a hand and smoothed out the skin between my brows.
“You frown when you’re overthinking,” he said simply. Then his gaze shot over to the nearest empty pool table. He jerked his head in that direction. “Up for a game?”
“I don’t know how to play,” I confessed, still troubled but welcoming of the distraction.
“I can show you,” he said, getting up from the stool and offering me a hand.
He briefly explained how the game worked in that calm, measured way he ran his lectures. He racked up the fifteen balls in the triangle, then handed me a pool cue. “What I’m about to do is called “breaking” the rack. This sets up the table and from here, we decide who plays with stripes or solids depending on who sacks whatever ball first. The first one to clear their group has to sink the eight-ball, and there you go.”
Seemed simple enough. I watched with fascination as he took the stance, leaning over the table. His tall, muscled body looked surprisingly lithe and graceful as he drew back his arm, then struck out with more power than I expected. The loud crack of the head ball echoed in my ears as the rack dispersed, one of the colorful balls slipping into a pocket.
“Guess I’m stripes,” he said, repositioning himself to take his second shot. He was good. He hadn’t bragged about it, which only made it more impressive that he actually knew what the hell he was doing. And from the looks of it, playing pool was a sort of outlet for him. Kind of like rowing was for me.
He’d pocketed one more ball before my turn came. I took my first shot with about as much grace as a drunk panda and to his credit, Lucas didn’t say anything. But I didn’t miss the laugh he stifled with a fake cough.
“Your technique just needs a little bit of work, that’s all” he said helpfully, taking the opportunity after his next turn ended to correct my stance. “Start with your feet. You need a solid foundation.” He very gently knocked his foot between mine, effectively breaking my position. “You’re right-handed, so step forward with your left foot.”
I listened, adjusting my body accordingly. He hummed. “Almost there. Try bending your back leg a bit. Distribute your weight evenly so that you’re not overshooting.”
His arms came around me, gently helping settle my arms in the correct place. I could feel his soft breath against the back of my neck as he leaned down, feeling the heat of his body through our clothing. The intimacy of it all took me by surprise and just like in the boathouse, everything around me disappeared. There was just Lucas. The strength of his body, his patience, his competence.
If I wasn’t careful, I knew that I was going to make things even harder for myself.
“So your teaching skills extend beyond just urban planning,” I said with a lightness that didn’t correspond with what I was actually feeling.
I felt his smile rather than seeing it.
“I’m a man of many talents,” he replied.
“At least you’ll have an alternative for when you eventually leave NEU,” I said. Lucas froze, seemingly shocked as he pulled away.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.
For a moment, I panicked. I didn’t want him to misunderstand what I was trying to say. “Nothing. It’s just that from our conversations I figured that you had bigger dreams for yourself than just being a professor. You’re brilliant at your job, and I know that you enjoy it. But your eyes don’t light up when you teach the way you do when you talk about actually being in the field.”
He looked taken aback at my observation. I recognized the expression on his face as something similar to the one I wore when I was debating on whether or not to tell someone something they’d already picked up on.
It was mostly the fear of being seen more than I was willing to allow. I planned on changing the topic and moving onto something else to try and recover his comfort but then he slowly began to smile and it was the youngest I’d ever seen him look. Now he did really look his age, someone barely older than I was.
“You’re perceptive,” he remarked, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t know. My family has always highly valued academia, probably because I was the first one who was actually able to graduate and go into higher learning. When I told my parents I was considering becoming a professor, just temporarily, they were elated.”
I could see where this was going. I leaned back against the pool table. “And now you’re scared that if you tell them you want to do something else with your life, that they’ll be disappointed in you.”
He didn’t say anything but the tension in his body was obvious. I reached out a hand and only hesitated a moment before placing it on his shoulder. Part of me wanted to offer him some of the same comfort and care he’d shown me during my interview with Johnson. That tenderness that he offered was a strength of its own.
Another part of me I was coming to discover with mild horror, actually really wanted to see Lucas happy. I was stacking more and more complications on an already complex situation. But when he looked so unguarded and uncertain of himself, it was hard to not want to help.
“I don’t know your family, but I know you. I think that they’d be proud of you no matter what you decided to do with your life,” I told him. He blinked at me. “And I think that you’ve achieved so much already to be proud of, that it’s time to do something that actually makes you happy. You deserve it, Lucas.”
His eyes softened, momentarily looking red-rimmed. Was he going to cry? But then, instead of responding to what I’d just said, he simply took my arms and faced me back towards the table.
“We should probably finish the game,” he said quietly.
His arms came around me again as he helped me line the shot. But he stood even closer to me this time, close enough for me to feel his heartbeat against my back. I let myself tentatively rest against the frame of his body, and the way we fit together was so perfect that I didn’t want it to stop.
