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I sigh and purse my lips, looking Alex up and down and deciding, maybe the truth is better in a situation like this. It’s not like the sex was bad. And most likely, Rachel isn’t going to stop liking the dickwad anytime soon.
“You’re in,” I say, grimacing at how hoarse my voice is. I don’t really recall using it all that much, but then again, everything seemed to go by in a whirlwind of events.
Maybe I had been crying out?
The thought makes my frown deepen, but I’m unable to think much on it as Alex’s smile widens and his eyes fill with joy.
“That’s wonderful,” he says simply.
My frown dissipates, and I say nothing as I slip out of Rachel and slowly rise. I turn away, searching for my clothes and hating the flush taking hold of my face.
22
LUCAS
Istaredownatmy phone with my parents’ contacts taking over the screen. Releasing a sigh, I turn my gaze out the window. My fingers tap on the coffee table.Don’t do this,I tell myself.You’re not going to be happy with the aftermath. It’s not worth it.
I turn to Jason, manning the cash register and smiling happily at a customer.But I can’t do this,a dark thought whispers in my ear.I’m not cut out for this.It’s the truth. There have been so many cases since the beginning of the semester when Jason should have fired me, and he didn’t. I don’t know why, but I suspect Rachel has something to do with it.
My hand on my phone tightens, and I punch the call button. I drag the device to my ear. Holding my breath, I listen to the ringtone. Part of me hopes no one picks up. The other part hopes Mom and Dad will welcome me back with open arms.
And when have they ever done that? Most likely, they will be the condescending assholes they’ve always been.
I count the ring tones, telling myself that if they don’t pick up after the tenth ring, I will hang up and pretend like nothing happened.But what if they call back?I close my eyes. One problem at a time.
“Five,” I whisper as the ringing carries on. “Six.” My stomach twists painfully. If someone does pick up, what will I even say? What if their butler picks up? What will I tell him?
Nothing. If the butler picks up, you hang up. He doesn’t need to be your little messenger boy. Dad and Mom probably put him through too much as it is.
“Eight,” I whisper, my eyes slowly opening. I stare out the window, my breath coming uneasily as I watch a girl walk her Pomeranian. “Ni-”
“Hello,” comes Dad’s irritated voice.
My heart stops and my hand shakes. I open my mouth, but the words don’t come.Hi, Dad, how are you? Oh, I realized I can’t function on my own and need your money. Say, one million dollars? That should suffice right?
My mouth snaps closed. I can’t say that. That sounds absolutely desperate and deplorable. I’m not doing that bad, it’s just… things are harder than I thought they would be.
“What do you want, Lucas? I haven’t got all day.”
I frown and my gaze darkens. He hasn’t been worried about me at all? I haven’t spoken to him since that brunch in Paris and that’s what he says to me? He doesn’t want to know how school has been or if I’m okay?
I should have expected as much, but it still hurts knowing—knowing that my father has only ever cared about himself.
“I-I just wanted,” I start, but I don’t know how to continue.How have you been? Is Mom okay? My classes are going well.But I can’t voice those words, because I already know how he’ll react.
Distant. Uncaring. Bored.
“I knew you’d call me eventually,” Dad says haughtily. “Need some money, don’t you?” I bristle at the sound of Dad’s bitter laughter on the other line. “You’re so easy to read, Lucas.”
My eyes sting with unshed tears and I grind my teeth to keep myself from shouting into the receiver. “Never mind,” I say, my tongue numb in my mouth. Without bothering to say goodbye, I quickly hang-up and shove my phone into my apron.
Bastard,I think while leaning back in my seat, trying to calm my breathing and the surge of emotions threatening to swallow me whole.
“You okay there, Lucas?” Jason asks from the counter.
I rise from my seat and stride towards him, moving around the bar and grabbing the towel from the sink. My focus turns to work, knowing it’ll take my mind off my parents. I wipe vigorously at a mug, trying to ignore the bitterness in Dad’s voice. Dad was right. I did call wanting to ask for money, but there was something lying dormant deep within me. Something I didn’t want to acknowledge but had appeared to me within seconds of hearing my father’s voice.
I wanted them to miss me. I wanted them to worry for me. It sucked when they left Paris after our terrible fight. It sucked that they didn’t call to make sure I was prepared for my final year at Aurora. They weren’t like other parents, and it hurt knowing that.
