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35 - Lucas
Although we had totake Jess home that night, we all slept in the same bed anyway. Usually, Manson’s bed was the one we all congregated in; tonight, I wandered up to the attic after I’d returned from dropping her off.
Vincent and Manson were both showering. Jason was sprawled on the bed, his hair damp, wearing sweatpants and nothing else as he played a game on his phone. Lying down beside him, I reached up and patted my hand on his head.
He slowly put down his phone, giving me a questioning look. “What are you doing?”
I smirked. “Aftercare.”
Laughing softly, he repositioned himself to snuggle closer. “You dumbass. Aftercare, right.”
His finger tapped rapidly across the screen as he played through the next level of the game. I didn’t know how he kept track of all the explosions, abilities, and sparkly graphics. I could handle games that were straight forward: go somewhere, shoot something, pick up items. That’s it. Some games he played were ridiculously complicated.
It was a good feeling — lying there with him. We’d been living together for years. He was one of my best friends. But our relationship was one I’d neglected, almost taken for granted. It was complicated to admire someone as much as I admired him, while also feeling this almost irrational need to protect him. From the world — from myself.
I’d felt like a threat to him when I’d first met him. Like I’d fuck up his life. I supposed, subconsciously, it made me keep him at a distance.
But feeling lonely and isolated for so damn long was exhausting; I didn’t want to do that anymore. Being cared for was frightening, so I pushed away the very people who cared about me most. In an effort not to lose the love I’d found, I almost destroyed it.
I’d heard the pain in his voice that night I’d called him after the sideshow. The idea of me being hurt, the idea of possibly losing me, had clearly shaken him. I wasn’t good at reading people’s emotions, I couldn’t always discern hidden meanings like Vincent or Manson could. But the anger and fear in his voice had been obvious.
This man I’d tried so hard to protect wanted to protect me in return.
My fingers were tangled in Jason’s hair when I said, “You know I love you. Right?” That was a shitty-as-hell way to frame that. Can’t just say “I love you” like a normal human, hell no; I had to go and qualify it like a demand.
Jason tipped his head back to look at me. “Of course I do. You know I love you back.”
I knew that, but it still felt damn good to hear it.
***
Ihated avoiding confrontation. It was the opposite; Irelishedit. If someone had a problem with me, I wanted to have it out. I’d take yelling, swearing, fighting,anythingother than simply trying to ignore it.
Hanging my cigarette out the window, I stared up the street toward Jessica’s house. Her mom was outside, wearing a massive sun hat as she pruned the rose bushes. She had long acrylic nails, like her daughter, and even while working in the yard, she was dressed like she was about to go to a fancy brunch. She’d probably been a party girl in her younger years, the woman people were irresistibly drawn to. Big hair, big personality, and an even bigger attitude.
Avoiding Jess’s house so we wouldn’t rile up her mom was something I did forJess’ssake and no one else. But it grated on my nerves. If Mrs. Martin had a problem with me, I’d rather have her say it to my face. Let’s get the yelling and screaming out of the way already; none of this sneaking around.
Jess would probably be pissed, but I’d made up my mind. I wanted to see her and I didn’t want to wait for her to sneak out of the house and formulate some ridiculous excuse for her mother.
Jess was stuck with us. She could make whatever plans she wanted; move across the state, the country, the goddamn world. We’d just go along with her. It didn’t make much sense, but even my best laid plans rarely did. I didn’t “think things through”; I made a decision and went for it.
There was no way in hell I would lose Jess now; I’d already made up my mind she was ours. So her mother would have to get with the program.
Discarding my cigarette in the ashtray, I got out and took care not to slam the door for once. This neighborhood was too damn quiet, and it made me uncomfortable. There had been noise at the trailer park constantly. Dogs barking, babies crying, music playing — always someone shouting. Jess’s neighborhood felt like a muted version of WhoVille.
