by Debra Doxer
I can almost hear Myles’s mouth dropping open beside me.
“Yeah, another time,” I answer awkwardly not sure what’s going on exactly. One minute he’s being a rude asshole to me and the next he’s shyly asking me out with big puppy dog eyes.
“Okay, then. Later,” he says before turning and strolling down the hallway.
When I turn around, Myles is shaking his head at me.
“What?” I ask.
“I wouldn’t have thought he was your type.”
“Please, he’s not. I just needed to ask him a question this morning. I guess he read more into it.” I shrug.
Myles keeps shaking his head as we walk toward the caf.
“Okay, stop it,” I scold. “You’re going to give yourself whiplash.”
He comes to a halt in front of the cafeteria entrance and faces me. “Look, Raielle. I know you’re not naive. I don’t know what your issues with guys are, but please don’t hurt Lucas. He’s a good friend, and he’s been through a lot. If you’re interested in someone else, don’t string him along, okay?”
For a moment, I’m too shocked to respond. “I’m not,” I finally say. “I wouldn’t do that. Besides, Lucas hasn’t asked me out or even acted like he wants to.”
Myles takes a deep breath. He seems disappointed. “Don’t play dumb, okay? It’s not an attractive look for you.”
Then he goes inside, leaving me standing there.
I’m sullen and quiet during lunch. If Gwen and her friends notice, they don’t say anything. I mostly nod as Gwen describes our evening at Atlas. I’m stewing over Myles’s accusation, feeling wrongly accused. If Lucas is telling Myles he’s interested in me, but he’s saying nothing to me, it’s not my fault. Lucas is mostly silent and cryptic when he’s around me. He shoots me these heated looks occasionally, but I’m not a mind reader. I’ve done nothing wrong. Have I? It’s true that I’ve been trying to ignore the attraction I feel for him, but Lucas doesn’t know that. Does he? Even if he did, what does he expect me to do about it? I’m not going to throw myself at him. If he’s interested in me, he should say something. Actually, no he shouldn’t because I’m not ready to hear it. My emotions would be all over the place if I let myself get involved with him. Just standing near him sends my pulse into overdrive. I can’t imagine what it would be like to actually kiss him. My cheeks grow warm and my palms start to sweat just thinking about it. There’s no question about it, getting involved with him would not be smart. What the hell did Lucas say to Myles anyway? What did Myles mean when he said Lucas has been through a lot? I think about him far too much. Yet I know virtually nothing about the guy.
I’m getting too worked up about this. I need to calm down and clear my head so I can keep my emotions in check. I abruptly excuse myself and walk quickly out of the cafeteria, purposely not looking at the usual table where Myles and Lucas sit.
In art class today, our assignment is to use pastels on paper to interpret the way we’re feeling. Beside me, Grady, a beefy guy who has never spoken a word in class, is drawing two stick figures who appear to be having sex. He has a creepy little grin on his face as he’s eyeing his work. The girl beside me is sketching the beach. I pull out a black pastel and proceed to cover my entire paper in solid black. I’m done in less than five minutes, and I spend the rest of class watching the clock. When the teacher comes around to collect our assignments, she’s too astounded by Grady’s picture to notice mine.
I manage to cool off as the afternoon drags on. But a minor run-in with Kellie threatens to throw me off kilter. “So, it’s Chad now,” she taunts as she passes me in the hallway. “You do get around.”
I don’t bother to deny it. I say nothing and hope that Myles is not the one spreading that rumor.
As I’m emptying the contents of my locker into my backpack at the end of the day, Lucas appears beside me. He doesn’t say hello. He just stands there waiting for me, his face a mask of coolness. I clench my jaw and decide that Myles has no idea what he’s talking about. I zip my backpack closed and automatically head toward the back stairwell.
“I’m parked in front,” Lucas says, indicating the front stairs that I’ve been avoiding.
I nod and turn around. Lucas is behind me as I quickly move down the stairs, careful not to come into contact with the other students who are descending with us. I finally stop and wait once I’m out on the sidewalk in front of the parking lot.
“You in a rush?” Lucas asks, eyeing me with what looks like disdain.
“No,” I reply, trying not to sound out of breath.
He walks ahead of me toward his truck. “I thought we’d drive over to the industrial park,” he says without looking at me. “There’s a section of parking lot there that’s usually empty, and there are some private roads in the back we can use.” He’s the one moving quickly now, not bothering to see if I’m even with him as he speaks.
“If this isn’t a good time, we can cancel the lesson,” I offer since he seems less than thrilled about giving it.
He stops short and whirls around at me. “Do you want to cancel?”
I rear back, startled by his reaction. “No. You just don’t seem like you want to do this. If you’ve changed your mind, it’s no big deal. Just tell me rather than acting like a dick.”
To my surprise, his glare softens. Then he nods once. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m in a shitty mood, and I’m taking it out on you. I still want to do this if you do.”
I briefly consider calling it off, but I then I think about Myles telling me that Lucas has been through a lot and decide to give him a break. Finally, I just nod at him and he opens the passenger door for me.
“I’m sorry for calling you a dick,” I tell him once we’re moving.
He smirks at me. “Sure, you are.” After a few moments of quiet he asks, “Are you nervous for your first driving lesson?”
“It’s not exactly my first lesson,” I say sheepishly.
He turns, raising his eyebrows at me.
“One of the foster kids I lived with for a while liked to jack cars and take them for joyrides. I’d go along, and he’d let me drive sometimes.”
His eyes grow round. Then he laughs. “I wasn’t expecting you to say that.”
I shrug, amused by his reaction. “My checkered past again.”
He smiles at me, and I have to look away before I start wishing I could see that smile directed at me more often. “Why are you in a shitty mood?” I ask, watching the scenery out the window.
He sighs, pulling my curious eyes back to him. His fingers open and flex before closing over the steering wheel again. “I’m going to suck it up and be honest with you,” he says.
My brows arch up. “Oookay…”
He’s looking at the road when he says, “Chad Bleeker isn’t good enough for you. He treats girls like dirt. You deserve better than him.”
I sink down into my seat and shake my head. This school is unbelievable. CNN’s got nothing on these kids. “I’m not involved with Chad Bleeker.”
He glances at me. “You’re not?”
“I sought him out this morning to ask him a question, and I guess he misinterpreted our conversation. He thinks I want to go out with him or something.”
“Or something,” Lucas remarks dryly. “Does this have something to do with why you wanted to talk to the bass player the other night?”
“Yes.”
“If I ask you again what that was about, is there any chance you’ll tell me?”
While I consider my reply, I reach back to lift the hair off my neck. The interior of Lucas’s truck suddenly seems hot and cramped. “I know you were at Myles’s house when he learned I was moving here. But I don’t know how much you might have overheard about what happened before I came,” I begin.
Lucas’s eyes travel from my exposed neck, to my face, and then back to the road. “I know your mom had some,” he pauses, “issues. So you spent time in foster care growing up. I know she died just before you move
d here.”
I shake my head ruefully. “Did Chloe give my story a G rating or did you?”
“I guess I did.” One side of his mouth curls up sympathetically. “This is it,” he says, maneuvering behind a brick building and into a large parking lot that has only a smattering of cars. After putting the truck in park, he sits there and looks at me. “I’m really sorry about your mom,” he says quietly. He sounds so completely sincere I suddenly feel the threat of tears. I take a deep breath as I try not to cry in front of him.
“Thanks,” I answer quietly. I’m still not sure exactly what Chloe divulged that day, and I’m reluctant to explain any more than he already knows. Despite the little voice in my head warning me not to say anything, I find myself doing it anyway. “I recognized the bass player. Just before I came here, I saw him back in San Diego, talking to someone in front of our apartment building. I wanted to know what he was doing there. That’s all.” I shrug, pretending it’s not bothering me as much as it actually is.
He wrinkles his forehead. “The bass player for Isolation? Are you sure it was him?”
“No. I’m not one hundred percent sure, but…” I glance down at my hands, positive that Lucas is going to tell me I must be mistaken.
“But you think so,” he finishes.
I nod.
“Did you find anything out when you talked to Chad?” Lucas asks.
“Chad told me he works as a janitor and that he’s probably never left New York State.”
Lucas doesn’t say anything.
“When I approached him the other night after the show and grabbed his arm, he looked at me like he recognized me, too. Actually, he looked like a deer in the headlights when he saw me, and it seemed like he just wanted to get away from me as fast as he could.”
“You shouldn’t have gone up to him that way,” he says in a serious tone.
I nod even though I disagree. I have no idea why I’m even telling him this much.
“Maybe there’s another way to find out more about him,” Lucas suggests.
I glance at him, surprised that he seems to be taking me seriously. “I know his name now. Rob Jarvis. I could probably try Google next.”
“If you do find anything, don’t approach him again. Okay? Call me and we’ll figure something out.”
I laugh ruefully. We’re back to this again. Not too long ago he said he wasn’t made of ice, and that I could talk to him. Then he turned all rude and moody the very next day when I told him I wasn’t sure about going to Atlas. Right now, his suggestion seems beyond ridiculous to me. “Lucas, I’m not going to call you. Why would I call you?”
He shifts toward me in his seat. “Because I’m trying to be your friend here.” His eyes are snapping with irritation now. “Why do you want to make it so hard?”
I flinch at his words and drag my gaze away from him.
I hear him let out a heavy breath. “I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I just… I don’t know how to talk to you.”
Hearing his defeated tone, I immediately regret my words. I look at him again, taking in his eyes, dark with frustration, and his somber expression, which he’s not trying to mask for a change, and I note his presence. It’s heavy and potent, and it charges the air around me. I’m staring at him so long that his expression softens, and his gaze begins to search mine.
“Myles thinks I’m going to hurt you,” I say, not sure why I’m bringing that up now.
A sad resignation flickers across his features. “He’s probably right.”
“The fact that I could would surprise me.”
He offers me a small smile and leans in closer. “I’ve screwed this up six ways to Sunday, haven’t I?”
I study him, but as usual, I find no clue as to what he’s thinking. “What do you mean?”
The intensity I’ve become familiar with saturates his face. “I saw you the first night you came here, Raielle. It was dark, but you were standing under the streetlight, lit from above just like an angel, and I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.” His gaze leaves mine, like he’s embarrassed by his admission.
My breath grows shallow as his words wash over me, and I remember back to that night when we first saw each other across the darkness.
“Then you were at school.” His eyes meet mine again. “I couldn’t believe it when you turned up in all my morning classes. I figured I’d catch your eye and smile at you. We’d talk, and I’d ask you out or maybe you’d ask me out. But you never looked my way. Not once,” he says with disbelief. “I’ve never wanted anyone this much before, and you’re the only girl in school who doesn’t want to go out with me. At all,” he adds with a miserable laugh. “I figure this must be karma or something.”
I can feel my heartbeat echoing in my ears. I don’t know whether to throw myself into his arms or call him a conceited idiot. I do finally know that the way I’ve felt from the first moment I saw him is not one-sided. This is why the air seems like it’s sparking with electricity when we’re together. But if I admit my feelings to him, feelings I’ve hardly even admitted to myself, what will that mean? I’m thrilled and terrified and suddenly paralyzed. And underneath it all, I realize I’m angry with him. That’s the one clear emotion inside me right now, and I hone in on it.
I realize that I’ve been staring at him silently when he finally says, “Anyway…” Then he runs both his hands through his hair. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to tell you that. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.” Then he gets out of the truck, leaves the door open and comes around to my side. He yanks my door open and waits for me to get out. When I don’t move, he says, “If you’re going to drive, you kind of need to sit in the driver’s seat.”
He’s standing over me with his arm resting on top of the open passenger door. He’s trying to appear casual, but I can feel the tension rolling off him.
“This is why you’ve been acting so cold to me?” I ask. “You were upset because you think I don’t want you, unlike every other girl in school?”
His jaw tightens when I paraphrase his words back to him. The part of me that was initially overjoyed at his confession is completely overtaken by the part that feels wounded by the passive aggressive way he’s handled himself around me. “That first day in school, when you told Hailey to leave me alone, you didn’t say a word to me. You just scowled and ignored me.”
He rubs a hand over the back of his neck uncomfortably. “I know. I’m sorry about—”
“I don’t care. Okay? You’re the one who set the tone between us. I’m sorry I didn’t notice you in class that first day. I was a little distracted by my screwed up life. When I did notice you, you were a silent, glaring ass to me. So don’t stand there and tell me that I don’t want you. You don’t know the first thing about what I want because your pride was too wounded to ever give me a chance.” With that, I jump out of the car and stomp around to the driver’s side.
Lucas is on me immediately. “Wait a minute,” he demands. “What does that mean?”
“You’re a smart guy,” I snap. “Figure it out.”
When I move to get into the truck, he takes my hand and turns me around. “I think we both know I’ve got a speed limit IQ when it comes to you. You’re going to have to explain it to me.”
The suddenly hopeful look on his face chips away at my anger. I sigh and feel deflated as my head of steam evaporates, replaced by nerves and the realness of an uncharacteristically vulnerable Lucas standing before me. My eyes move from our linked hands to his expectant expression. After everything he’s just told me, I have to be honest with him. Anything less would be a betrayal.
“I felt it, too. The first night I saw you,” I admit, hearing the nervous tremor in my voice. “This thing between us. I feel it every time I’m near you, Lucas.”
His hand tightens around mine and my blood heats. “But it doesn’t matter,” I whisper, trying to reclaim my hand.
He won’t release me. “What do you mean? It doesn’t matte
r?”
“Myles is right. I am going to hurt you. And you’re going to hurt me, too.”
He takes my other hand. “Myles is not right.”
I shake my head miserably.
“Even if he is, maybe it’s worth it,” he says, and I don’t miss the subtle plea in his tone.
“You don’t understand.” I can’t drag him into all my crap. I can’t have an honest relationship with anyone. I can never tell him everything. He’d think I’m either crazy or a freak, and he wouldn’t be wrong.
Lucas sighs in frustration and drops my hands. “You’re right. I don’t understand.”
His pained expression pierces my heart. I need him to know I’m not saying this to hurt him. I recall the way my mother used to describe the way things needed to be. She compared the way we had to live our lives to the ocean and its currents. She told me our preservation depended upon our staying in the calm shallow waters near shore. If we ventured out, we risked getting swept up in the currents and being taken out to sea, losing control, and never reclaiming it again. If I let myself fall for Lucas, I risk losing myself, and I don’t know what that might mean for both of us.
“Look,” he takes a step closer to me. “Here’s what I’ve got so far. I want you, and it turns out you want me, too.” He eyes me expectantly. When I reluctantly nod my agreement, he raises his hand and pushes a lock of hair away from my cheek. “Then let me explain something to you. Now that I know how you feel, there’s no way I’m going to forget it or pretend there’s nothing between us. I can’t think of one good reason why you would want me to.”
Then he closes the remaining distance and wraps his arms around me. At first, I don’t give in. I remain stiff in his embrace and pretend that being held by him isn’t the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt. I can’t remember the last time someone hugged me or touched me in a way that expressed affection of any kind. But it’s too hard to resist him, and I decide I’m not going to anymore.
