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I find myself in a McDonald’s with my clothes soaked. At least it’s late at night and it’s located in the middle of a suburb, so there aren’t many patrons around. Even if there were, I’m not sure if I would care that much.
I order a hot chocolate. I don’t make the conscious effort to do so and just find myself in front of one of the electric machines that takes your order.
Once I have the warm drink between my palms, I take a seat in the corner of the restaurant and call my sister.
“Charlie?” Jemima answers.
I burst into tears.
“Charlie, what is it? Charlie? Charlie, tell me.”
“It’s Lucas,” I say, and I can taste salty teardrops against my lips. I’m incoherent, voice wobbly with sobs. “H-he lied to me.”
*
It’s two in the morning when I return to the apartment. It’s hush and still, and all the lights are off.
“Lucas?” I call out.
No response. I turn the lights on, but there’s no sign of him.
After I finished sobbing to Jemima and ended the call, my screen lit up to tell me I had 37 missed calls from Lucas, and I figured it was time to go home.
But he’s not here. I pull my phone out of my pocket and call him. He picks up on the first ring.
“Charlie?” he sounds breathless.
Suddenly, I feel sheepish, though I’m not sure why. “Hi,” I say, and my voice is raw after crying in the McDonald’s.
“Where are you? I’ve been looking everywhere.”
“I’m back at the apartment,” I tell him.
“I’m coming.” He ends the call, and I’m left staring at the empty apartment.
Fifteen minutes later, the front door opens. I jump up from where I was waiting on the couch. “What happened to you?” I ask.
Lucas walks over and takes my shoulders. His hands are ice-cold, and I can feel them through my shirt. “Where did you go? I was looking all over for you.”
“In the rain?”
He’s dripping with rainwater. His shoes are soaked, and droplets are leaking from his hair, over his cheekbones, and settling at the corner of his lips. His clothes are drenched, sticking to him like a second skin. In fact, they leave nothing to the imagination, clinging to his pecs and abs, and normally the sight would fluster me, but now the only thing I am is concerned. “Lucas, you’re freezing. You need to take a hot shower.”
He shakes his head like it’s nothing, like he didn’t even notice. “What happened? I saw Cleo chasing you, and the look on your face…”
I shut my eyes. I was momentarily distracted by the empty apartment, by rain-saturated Lucas, but now everything comes rushing back.
“I ran into her at the party… She told me the truth.”
“What?” Lucas asks. His voice is demanding, but I can hear the note of fear underneath it. “What did she say?”
I open my eyes and meet his. Grey. Stormy. Scared.
“Why did you lie to me?” I ask. “Just when I thought that I could trust you, I found out that you lied the whole time. And what was the point? To make me feel worse? To rub salt in the wound?”
“Charlie,” Lucas pleads. “What did she tell you?”
I exhale. “She told me she had sex with Gilly. Not you. You lied.” I can’t help repeating the last part — I must’ve said it a hundred times to Jemima — he lied, he lied, I can’t believe he lied to me.
