My Lucky Days: A Novel

by S. D. Hendrickson

He rolled his eyes. “I’m already regretting that I said that to you.”

  After adding my number into his contacts, I handed his phone back to him. “You really should have a passcode on that thing. You never know when some crazy fan is just going to walk up and yank it out of your pocket.”

  “Are you always like this?”

  “No. Not really.” My smile drifted slowly away. He brought this side out of me. The flirting and the easy banter. I wasn’t sure how to explain that little fact to him. I was far from this person. But I liked this person. The one who appeared when I started talking to him. It felt good. “I hope you haven’t gotten the wrong idea about me tonight. I’m usually less spontaneous . . . and um . . . glamorous.”

  “Katie, I’d like you even if you wore one of those teacher sweaters. Like the ones with the snowmen all over it. Or cats. You could have one of them, and I wouldn’t care.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I don’t have a cat sweater. But thanks for not caring. And thank you for dinner.”

  “I had a good time tonight, Katie.”

  “Me too.”

  I shivered in the cold air. I needed to go inside. “Well, bye.”

  “So, no good-night kiss?”

  I couldn’t tell if he was teasing or serious. “You might get one next time if you actually call me.”

  But the thought of his lips warmed my freezing body. I really did want to kiss him. Before I changed my mind, I turned around quickly and went up the steps. As I closed the door, I caught one last glimpse of him as he waited for me to get inside before leaving.

  I walked through the quiet house, seeing the bedroom doors shut for both of my roommates. I knew tomorrow would be full of a hundred questions from both of them. Closing mine softly, I went to the bathroom and took a shower, scrubbing all the remaining pieces of my costume from my face.

  Wrapped up in my covers, I tried to fall asleep, but nothing was working. My mind kept replaying the night over and over again. I kept thinking back to little pieces of my conversation with Lucky. He was funny and sweet and a complete mess. But that voice. Good grief. The boy could sing. And that smile. And that hair.

  My phone dinged on the nightstand. Leaning over, I saw an unknown number displayed across the screen. My stomach got a quick rush of flutters as I opened the message.

  A thousand minutes may pass.

  And a hundred thoughts may come.

  But all of those disappear.

  When I’m sitting in the sun.

  Staring into your green eyes.

  Watching them change with your smile.

  I read the text a couple of times before I realized the words he sent were song lyrics. The memory of his voice filled my head. I stored his name into my phone and then responded.

  ME: It’s not the same if I can’t hear you sing them.

  And then my phone suddenly came alive. I sucked in a deep breath.

  He was calling.

  I answered, holding the phone to my ear without saying anything. And then I heard just Lucky without any music. His voice, deep and soulful as it filled the quiet night, as he continued with his song.

  When he finished, I smiled in the darkness. Lucky was unlike anyone I had ever met. He was impossible to resist.

  “So do you sing to all the girls on the phone?”

  “No, just lonely kittens.” He laughed.

  “Oh,” I whispered as my heart beat faster.

  And then I heard his voice again. “Does this count as calling you?”

  My breathing picked up at the subtle meaning to his question. “Yeah, it counts.”

  “Good. But I’ll still call you tomorrow.” He sounded sleepy. “Night, Katie.”

  “Good night, Lucky.”

  And after he hung up, my screen filled with words again.

  LUCKY:

  A glimpse of your smile

  Won’t be enough.

  ’Cause my heart keeps telling me,

  I need more of this stuff.

  I woke up a little after ten, but I didn’t open my eyes. I didn’t immediately get up. Instead, I stayed in that sleepy haze that existed somewhere in the middle, where my thoughts roamed free without any control.

  Last night.

  Lucky.

  I had never done something that impulsive when it came to a guy. I’d gone on some innocent dates in high school before I met Chase my freshman year of college. Our relationship had moved like a snail in a rat race. We had sat next to each other for two months in American History before he ever asked me out.

  Chase had been sweet. Safe. Practical. He took me out on predictable dates. And touched me in all the predictable ways and had sex at all the predictable times. It had felt good. I never complained. And I had never worried about him—even the late nights that he spent with his study groups.

  We eventually broke up last summer when he left for medical school in Portland. And even the end of our relationship was practical. It had made sense. We both knew it.

  I missed him sometimes. But I was used to people leaving. The only difference, I was usually the one doing the leaving.

  I opened my eyes, seeing the same room with the same view out of the same window. Familiar contentment. I never got tired of that feeling—morning after morning.

  When I arrived in Stillwater, I had lived in twelve places in eighteen years. Seven towns. Three suburbs. Two cities. Four elementary schools—or was it three? Two middle schools and three high schools. I was certain of that one.

  The rest of my memories were often scattered. I couldn’t remember what city I learned to ride a bike. I just knew that it was pink with glitter stars across the seat. We had a real Christmas tree one year. It smelled of winter and spice. I think that was in Kentucky.

  The first boy I ever kissed was named Will. His lips were slightly chapped and he smelled of Juicy Fruit gum. That was in either Cincinnati or St. Louis. I never could keep those two places straight.

  My father was a corporate vice president for an elegant restaurant chain called Benton’s. He was in charge of evaluating the different locations, which required him to be onsite in the city. I guess he had options. Have a home base that he saw for a few days a month or relocate.

  He chose to relocate, over and over again.

  Not something a guy with a family should do as a career, but my parents didn’t really operate like people who had a child.

  Corporate would give my father a new location, and then we made the move to the new place. He would spend the next several months overseeing the current management, looking over the finances, firing people, hiring people, educating more on waste and cost and profit.

  As the CEO always raved, my father had the magic touch when it came to the restaurants. He was very good at his job. My family always stayed in a place just long enough for the improvements to take effect.

  Just long enough for me to meet people. Just long enough for me to feel the griping sadness when I had to say goodbye. And sometimes I didn’t even try to meet people, knowing I was just going to leave again.

  My parents were the only constant in my life. And once I got old enough not to harm myself while alone, they usually just left me at the house while they went out with their friends. It was exciting for them. A constant change of scenery as they fulfilled their wanderlust of new people and new places. They never seemed to notice that I didn’t handle the transitions very well.

  I’d come to the conclusion pretty early in my life that my parents didn’t really want kids. I wasn’t neglected. I had clothes and food. But when I got older, I realized other families were different. Mine lacked something. I eventually realized it was warmth. And without warmth, a person felt a little cold on the inside.

  That had been my life as a kid. A lonely existence, but the only one I had ever known. I learned to pack a box before I could tie my shoes. And best friends were something I saw on TV. I never kept anything sentimental because it only took up space when we had to leave. More to unpack. More
to repack.

  The day I pulled up in front of the dorms, I had stared at the brick building for a good ten minutes before getting out of the car. I was the new girl again. The feeling had always caused nervous jitters.

  I watched the students, rushing around in every direction, pushing carts of clothes and struggling to unload truckloads of their belongings.

  And then it hit me. For once in my life, everyone was starting over in a new place.

  Everyone was like me.

  That day had changed my life, something I had desperately needed. For the first time, I was unpacking, knowing I was staying in the same town for at least four years, which was longer than any other place I had lived growing up. It gave me a feeling of peace, a sense of belonging.

  And then I met Peyton and Skylar. My roommates. And my first long-term friends. A year later, we left the dorms together and rented a little house not far from campus. For most students, the move to college felt temporary. For me, it felt like home.

  It was perfect.

  They were the sisters I never had. The best friends I had always wanted. And the stability I had craved. They were both a little over-the-top in their own ways and I was their Katie.

  I was sensible. Reliable. The one who made sure the electric bill got paid. Katie.

  And last night, I had let them push me into being more like them. Something I didn’t allow to happen very often. As I crawled out of bed, the image of his face slipped into my thoughts. And then I was smiling before I even realized I was smiling.

  Lucky.

  I wondered what he was doing this morning with his brother. I didn’t know how he could even see straight today. My own head was clouded with exhaustion as I walked into the kitchen. I needed food. Good thing my Friday class was canceled and I didn’t have to stumble across campus.

  I got out a new package of bacon and a skillet. Placing the slices across the bottom, I cooked the meat until it was crispy and then made a sandwich. I cleaned up the mess and then sat at the table, eating in silence. Being alone. I’d learned to handle it over the years. Not that it was ever really easy. But I knew how to function.

  After finishing my sandwich, I washed the plate off in the sink. I really needed to do homework, but I was pretty tired. Going into my bedroom, I got my box of candles and brought them to the living room. I placed the little glass jars in precise rows across the coffee table. Lighting each wick, I watched the flames take hold and the wax gradually melt. I sucked in a deep breath. Nothing was more relaxing than the scent of lavender and vanilla.

  Old habits were difficult to give up.

  I liked candles. Something simple that could be purchased in any town or city that gave a familiar smell to a new place.

  I wrapped up in a blanket on the couch, flipping through daytime talk shows before stopping on the local news. I wanted to see how cold it would be next week.

  About an hour later, I heard my phone ding in my bedroom. Climbing out of my cozy cocoon, I retrieved it from my nightstand. I walked back into the living room, staring at the screen. Lucky. The sweet thrill of anticipation shot through me as I opened the message.

  LUCKY: It’s after 12. You awake?

  ME: Yes.

  LUCKY: Good. Just saying hi.

  I smiled, picturing that grin on his face.

  ME: Hi?

  LUCKY: Working tonight. Won’t be able to call until late. Or maybe tomorrow.

  ME: Okay.

  LUCKY: I didn’t want to forfeit my kiss by you thinking I wasn’t going to call.

  I laughed out loud.

  ME: No worries. You still have 1 credit.

  LUCKY: Good because I’m planning on using it.

  That time, I didn’t laugh. The warm flutters filled my chest.

  ME: Stop flirting and get back to work.

  LUCKY: For the record, I can text and use a saw at the same time. But Colt said no. I might lose a finger.

  ME: THEN STOP TEXTING ME

  LUCKY: Fine. But I’m still thinking about kissing you.

  I laughed again. He was impossible. Curling up under a blanket, I flipped through the channels, soaking up the smell of lavender. And I found myself thinking about kissing him too.

  Peyton stumbled through the door a few minutes later. “Why the hell am I in this class again?”

  I smiled, seeing the traumatic look on her face. “Because you want to graduate.”

  “Ugh.” She fell on the couch next to me. “Graduating is overrated if it requires crap like this.”

  “You do realize that once you graduate, you’ll have to get up even earlier every day.”

  “No. I’m not taking a job like that. I’ll find a different one. Like where I work ten to two.”

  I laughed. “Good luck with that one.”

  “Or a rich guy. Then I won’t have to work at all. I’ll be a real housewife of some place fancy like Miami or Malibu. I can sleep until noon and have a butler named Harold who brings me breakfast in bed before I meet the other rich wives at the country club and we talk about how much money we have while drinking cocktails in fancy dresses.”

  “I hope that works out for you.” I rolled my eyes, knowing she was dead serious about the idea. She was a complete mess sometimes.

  Peyton pulled part of the large blanket off me to cover herself up. “I love it when you have a lavender séance. So cozy.” She twisted around, getting situated. “So tell me about last night. I’m getting excited just thinking about him again. He was hot. Like normal-guy hot. But damn. Seeing him on stage. He’s like sexy hot. So tell me. I want details.”

  “Well, we ate dinner. He’s funny. Made me laugh a lot. And he flirts. Like a lot. But it’s not in a bad way. He’s actually pretty sweet. He called me last night after he dropped me off. Sang to me on the phone.”

  “What? You’re kidding, right?”

  “Not kidding.”

  Peyton grabbed me in a hug, shaking both of us around with her excitement. “This is freaking awesome. Now does he have any friends because I want a sexy country singer too.” She fell back against the couch. “One who sings me sexy songs in the middle of the night. I wonder if he sleeps naked because that would be so hot. Just his bare ass on the sheets. Singing. You should totally ask him that.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at the dreamy look on her face. “I am not asking that, Peyton.”

  “Well, those jeans were pretty tight last night so I don’t need to use that much imagination to picture how he’d look wearing nothing but a guitar. That guy’s packing.”

  I turned three shades of red, which happened frequently when she got worked up. Some of her moments came out as whimsical hypotheticals and some were the real deal—true stories from her life.

  Since she was the youngest of six kids, I think her parents were just too tired to control her. So Peyton sneaked out and sneaked off more nights than she was at home. The girl had hundreds of sordid and true stories before she ever became my roommate. Some made me laugh while others made my skin crawl. And some made me curious, although I would never admit it to her.

  “Hey, Katie.” Her silly grin faded a bit. “Don’t get scared, okay? Give him a chance.”

  I nodded, feeling the weight swirl around in me. “I’m trying.”

  “And no matter what happens with Lucky, you’ve always got us. I’ll take him down. You know I can. I’ll burn his guitar on his porch. Or slit his tires with pieces of his guitar. Just say the word.”

  I burst out laughing, seeing the serious expression in her eyes. She often had a touch of redneck in her. “You are crazy, Peyton.”

  I went to bed at eleven after spending the afternoon on homework. Peyton and I had ordered Hideaway pizza for dinner. She stayed home and watched a movie with me instead of going anywhere. Sometime around one, I woke up to the sound of my phone pinging with a text message. In a bleary haze, I pulled it off my dresser, seeing his name on the screen.

  I figured he was saying good night, but then I read the message. />
  LUCKY:

  Staring into your green eyes.

  Watching them change with your smile.

  Wanting to kiss your lips,

  ’Cause I need to taste them for a while.

  I fell back against my pillows. He was doing it again. I let out a deep breath, reading the lines for a second time. I sent a reply as those feelings started to simmer inside me.

  ME: I want to hear it.

  A couple of minutes passed and then my phone rang. I answered without saying anything and waited for him to start singing. His voice came through, deep and sexy, making me smile. As he said the last word, I wished for the song to be longer.

  “I liked that,” I whispered.

  “I like you.”

  My eyes closed. I liked him too, but I wasn’t going to say it. Not yet. We listened to each other breathe for a few minutes.

  “I bet you’re tired, Lucky. You should go to bed.”

  “I am in bed.”

  “Me too.”

  I smiled, remembering Peyton’s question from earlier. My mind wandered down the path of her dirty thoughts. Was he naked? In boxers? Or maybe he was a t-shirt guy in sweats.

  In my half-asleep stupor, I went for it. “T-shirt, boxers, or commando?”

  “Huh?” He paused, and then I heard the faint chuckle. “Boxers.”

  I felt the heat in my cheeks. “Nice. My roommate wanted to know.”

  “Sure she did.” And then silence filled the phone line. “Well?”

  “What?”

  “Well, I’m picturing you in bed. And I need to know if you are a t-shirt, boxers, or commando kind of girl so I get the image right.”

  I laughed. “I think it’s too early for you to know that about me.”

  “You don’t play fair.”

  I grinned. “Sometimes.”

  We continued talking for a little longer until our voices slowly faded out from exhaustion. “Go to sleep,” I whispered.

  I heard him yawn through the phone. “I will soon. But I wanted to see if you were busy tomorrow night.”

  “I’m free.”

  “Can I pick you up at six?”