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I whipped my head to look at him, and he looked back at me. I pulled the letter from his hands, and he let me.
It was Joan’s handwriting.
I stared.
I shoved the letter back into his hand. Thankfully, I didn’t have to respond because the bus arrived, and I quickly climbed on.
The next day, Lucas started going out with Joan. One week later, he dumped her. Joan never gave me any indication she’d received a love letter, or that she knew I’d written it. If I had any more crushes in high school, I never made a move. I knew not to bother.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Now
I wake up at 7:30 and get out of bed, careful not to disrupt Cleo who’s still sleeping. After getting ready and changing into fresh clothes, I grab my laptop and set myself up at the kitchen bench, sitting on one of the stools with a mug of milky coffee and watching a lecture recording on double speed with my earphones in.
At eight, the front door opens and Lucas walks in. He’s wearing his gym clothes, and the apples of his cheeks are shiny and pink. His arms are ridged with muscle, his long legs hard as if carved from stone and dusted with light brown hair.
“What are you doing?” he asks, passing me to get himself a glass of water. He smells like deodorant mixed with the strong scent of sweat. Somehow, his sweat doesn’t smell like the usual foul, acidic scent of most men’s body odour. Instead, it’s kind of…pleasant. Not that I’d ever tell him. He’s already got a big enough ego as is.
“Watching a lecture.”
He nods over the top of his glass. Last night, after our conversation, I returned to my room. The worry that had been chewing me up inside had faded away. Perhaps it was Lucas telling me about his first time, letting me know that it’s a universal experience, that it’s okay things didn’t play out like a romance movie. Perhaps it was simply talking to Lucas, sitting together on his bed, in the middle of the night.
Maybe things are good between us.
Then Lucas says, “When’s breakfast?”
I pause the lecture. “What?”
“Breakfast.” When I don’t answer, he continues, “You are going to make breakfast for Cleo, aren’t you?”
“Ha! You do know her name.”
He rolls his eyes.
“How did you know I was going to make her breakfast?” I ask.
“Because you’re a gentleman.”
I give him a flat look.
“So,” he prompts. “Breakfast?”
“What makes you think you’re getting any?”
“Because I know you, Charlie, and you’re a very kind person. What’s on the menu? Bacon and eggs? Eggs Benedict? Pancakes?”
“Pancakes,” I say. “But I doubt they’ll have the amount of protein you’ll need. Sorry.”
“That’s alright. I’m sure I’ll still enjoy your cooking.”
“Why are you so eager to eat my pancakes?”
“Because it’s every man’s dream.”
“What are you on about? What’s every man’s dream?”
He gives me an arrogant smile that usually makes me want to punch him in the face, but this morning it’s kind of…endearing?
