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“Charlie.”
I ignore him.
His sudden footsteps are the only warning I have. I spin around in time to catch him reaching for me, and I slap his hand away. “Don’t touch me,” I hiss.
He freezes. Then, his hand drops. “We’re really going to pretend last night didn’t happen?” he asks. His eyes are bigger than usual.
“Ideally,” I say.
He frowns. “But…”
“But what?”
“We had sex,” he says. “Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
I stare at him, wondering if I heard him correctly. “Come on, Lucas,” I say.
His frown deepens, and perhaps he’s not mocking me after all. “It meant something to me.” His voice is almost a whisper.
“Oh god,” I breathe. “You’re serious.”
He stares at me. “Of course, I’m serious. You think I…you think I did all of that for the hell of it?”
“All of what? Are you referring to the fact you fucked my girlfriend?”
He flinches and looks away, his mouth twisting like there are so many things he wants to say, but he can’t. Or he’s stopping himself. Or he’s trying to think of the best way to manipulate me, to get me on his side.
Then, the craziest thing happens, even crazier than what happened yesterday or this morning. A part of me, in my wildest daydreams, would be able to imagine Lucas kissing me. Lucas touching me. Unlikely, yes, but within the realm of possibility. And the fact that he slept with Cleo — well, that just seems painfully obvious now, like I should’ve seen it coming.
But this — this is impossible. This is what makes me genuinely wonder whether I’m hallucinating.
Because Lucas sinks to his knees. The floor creaks with the movement, and I can see the top of his head, the skin of his scalp through his thick hair. His eyes are cast down, and I have to strain my ears to hear him.
“I…I know that I…it’s not like that, Charlie. But I meant what I said. That I did all of it for you. Do you think I said all those things in the heat of the moment? Because I didn’t. I meant them. I’ve wanted to say them for ages. This morning…I was so…” he swallows. “You were gone in the morning. I reached out for you, and you were gone.”
When I don’t say anything — I can’t — his lashes flutter, and then he’s looking up at me, and his eyes are so, so big.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks.
I touch the side of my face. “Like what?”
“Like you don’t understand. Like you think I’ve gone insane.”
I take a step back. Lucas stays on his knees but tracks me with his eyes.
“Because I don’t understand,” I reply. “Because you have gone insane. Look at yourself. You’re on the ground.” I shake my head. “You’re saying all of this stuff and it’s like you’ve conveniently forgotten the fact that you hate me.”
“I don’t h—”
“Fine, maybe hate’s too strong a word, but you don’t like me, Lucas. We don’t like each other. You barely tolerate me. Only a few weeks ago, you said all that crap to me on the couch. And that’s not even taking into account high school, when you were an asshole to me for no reason. You let your friends make fun of me. You shoved me onto the floor in my living room. You never even told me what I did wrong, what made you decide you didn’t want to be friends with me anymore. You never told me why, you didn’t give me any warning, you just looked at me like I was trash, like I was less than human.
“And we were best friends. Before that, we did everything together. I could tell you anything, I could trust you with anything. In primary school, we played together every day. We took baths together. We ran away from our families together — yeah, we only ran away for two hours before we got hungry, but still. And then one day, you decided I wasn’t good enough. And I never knew why.
“Do you know how damaging that is? Do you know how much it hurt, for you to suddenly treat me like that? It was as if you kicked me in the stomach multiple times. Worse than that. Because you knew me better than my siblings knew me, and yet you still rejected me. Do you know what that means? It means that there’s something deep inside me that’s repulsive, that makes even my best friend want to abandon me. That’s what it means.” I inhale deeply. Talking so much has left me breathless, but I’m not even finished. I could rant at him all day.
Lucas stares at me, eyes shinier than usual. Oh god, is he going to cry?
No way. He hasn’t cried since primary school.
