by F. X. Scully
"What was it like being raised by him? I get the feeling it would be a party every night."
Lucas laughs loudly. "The opposite, really. Well," he snorts. "At least back then. When he first came back, I was stoked. Back in high school my brother was...he was legend. So I was sure my life was about to get ten times better." He laughs again, shaking his head. "Boy, was I wrong. It got better, because he was there, but Ross was hard ass. He kept me on the straight and narrow. No one thought he could, didn’t think he could handle raising a teenager. I think he just wanted to prove everyone wrong. He did everything by the book, even made me go to Sunday School. Every bit of trouble I got into was behind his back." He sighs. "That's the thing about him, under everything he's just a normal guy. Sometimes I wish that's what he'd let them all see. But these days, he just lets 'em all see what they want."
"What does your tattoo mean?" I blurt out the question and watch as a knowing smile spreads across his face.
I've been dying to know since the other night and I'm hoping, after a confession like that, he'll tell me.
Lucas turns onto his side. He stares at me for a long moment, but it isn't the least bit uncomfortable. It's almost like he's trying to read my mind.
"I won't tell anyone," I whisper. "I swear."
"I know." He slowly unbuttons his shirt, revealing the curling black ink.
Instinctively, I reach my hand forward, tracing the lines again.
Lucas closes his eyes. "When my parents went away, I was sad and angry at the same time. I loved them but I hated them for what they did to our family. And, in a way, those emotions were the only things that kept me sane—kept me here." He opens his eyes to look at me again. "Everything in my life was blowing up and all I could do was sit around and watch while it all burned down. Then my brother swooped in and..." He lets out a chuckle and shakes his head. "When I say I owe him everything, I mean it. I'd do anything for him. I live the way I do because of him and I'd die anyway, just for him."
I shrug off a shudder and rest press my palm against his chest. His heart beats out a familiar rhythm against my skin. "That's...kind of beautiful," I say, a hitch in my throat.
"Yeah," he smirks. "And tragic. But it means something. So I got this tattoo to remind me of what I've lost and what I have and that with the right amount of strength from the right people, I can handle it all."
I roll onto my back again and so does he. After several minutes of staring at the night sky, he reaches for me, pulling me closer. We lie like that, his arm around me, my head leaned on his chest for a long while, until I glance at my watch and realize how late it is.
"I have to go," I whisper, not wanting to disturb the moment.
Lucas tightens his grip on me for a second, then lets out a long sigh. "Okay, I'll drop you off."
As we stand in the school parking lot twenty minutes later, the memories from our first night together have surfaced and I can see them floating in his gaze as he watches me open my car door.
"I had a good time," I say.
Lucas doesn't say anything and though I know I should step back, I inch forward instead, sighing as his hands cup my face and his lips meet mine. The kiss is slow and deep. Our tongues sliding together in perfect rhythm. His hands move to the back of my head, pressing me closer and I snake mine around his waist, gripping the back of his jacket.
"We should do this again," he says as we finally come up for air.
"You're leaving," I respond.
"So?"
"So what's the point?"
He kisses me again as if to prove it and by the time, he pulls back I'm pretty sure he has.
"We should do this again," he repeats.
"Lucas, I can't. I'm...I have to concentrate on other stuff right now. And you're going away. Maybe...when you get back. Now's just not a good time."
"It's the worst timing," he says. "But, like I said, so what? It's just a date. I'm about to travel around with my brother for three months. I've done nothing but study for the past three years. In the week and a half since I met you, I've had fun. Sure, I could just walk away right now. We both could. And maybe we will see each other in September. But maybe we won't. Maybe you'll meet the guy of your dreams this summer and forget I ever existed. Maybe you'll be married with kids by the time I get back."
"With kids?" I laugh.
His lips curve to one side and he still holds my face. "I just want to enjoy you while I can. What's so wrong with that?"
"I have a busy week," I say. "I'm booked until Thursday and you leave at the end of the month. There's no point."
"The point is that we have a good time together."
I shake my head and finally step back. "I've got a lot going on. But here." I take a folded up piece of paper out of my back pocket and hand it to him.
I debated whether or not I should give him my number since that afternoon he sought me out at work again. I figured it'd be easier than standing in line for twenty minutes just to talk to me. But the more I've thought about it, the less likely he's even going to get a chance to use it before he leaves. It's not like we'll be able to take this thing anywhere. He's going away and I'm going back to the way things used to be. My head in the books and my legs closed. But there's no harm in talking to him once in a while. And who knows? Maybe, once he gets back, all this crap with Sheila will be sorted out and I'll be able to think about starting something with him.
"Call me when you're on the road," I say. "You can tell me all about your adventures. When you get back, we'll see how things go."
"Can I call you tonight?" He twists his mouth to the side.
"Call me tomorrow," I say though I have no intention of being near the phone. "I don't want to wake my parents."
"Tomorrow then." He gives me one last kiss before helping me into my car.
Luke
I wonder if it's possible to fall in love after knowing someone for such a short amount of time. I wonder if that's even what I'm feeling. Or am I just whipped, like my brother? I rub my eyes with the heels of my palms. It can't be that. I've seen the way Roscoe looks at Maya, not like he wants to take her somewhere quiet and pick her brain, more like he can't wait to rip her clothes off.
Shannon is incredible. Her body is unreal, her eyes are like one of those swirly hypnotist things—only blue. A deep blue, deeper than the color of the ocean. I could drown in those eyes. And she's got this sexy voice that I could listen to for hours. And as much as I enjoyed our antics the first night we met, there's more to it than that. At least I think there is.
I push my bowl of Cocoa Puffs away and get up from the table. The house is wonderfully quiet for once—the perfect time for a long hot shower and a good book. I can't remember the last time I've had either. And in just a few days, I'll be all out of time to do the things I want.
Shit.
I'm leaving at the end of the week. What then? Am I really going to be able to forget about her? It shouldn't be hard. I just met her. We've only gone out twice, well, technically once. You can't really be whipped if you haven't had sex. Can you?
I let out a long low breath through my teeth as I climb the stairs to the bathroom.
Shannon. I don't even know her last name, but I doubt there'll ever be another. I asked, but she wouldn't tell me. She insisted it was better this way. I'm leaving and by the time I get back, she'll be done with school and the things we did—as innocent as they were—will be nothing but sweet, sweet memories.
I strip down and turn on the shower and out of nowhere comes the image of Shannon, propped up on the hood of her car, her fingers in my hair.
Shit.
I'm going to have to get this girl off my mind somehow. I stand under the water allowing its heat to scald my skin. I'm tempted to use thoughts of Shannon to take myself over the edge, but I know it won't do her justice. Nothing could, goddammit. She's like a fucking dream that came true. One I didn't even know I wanted until I got it.
I shake my head. "Stop acting like a lovesick idiot,
Luke. Get over it already. She's just a girl." But I know it isn't true. She's much more than that.
After only ten minutes under the water, I hear a door slam, so I shut off the shower and wrap my towel around my waist. So much for having the house to myself.
After I brush my teeth, Roscoe still hasn't started banging on the door so he's probably hung-over. Either that or he's dragged some girl into his bedroom. Which means I've still got time to smoke a little something and enjoy the rest of the day on my own. I drop the damp towel in the corner with the rest of my dirty laundry, snatch up my last joint from the top drawer of my dresser and flop down on my bed.
I haven't lied down for a few seconds before I bolt up. "What the...?"
"Oh, my god." A surprised face appears from underneath a mop of dark hair. "Luke?"
"Sheila?" Not that I'm not used to this, but I'm definitely not in the mood. "What the hell are you doing in my bed?"
Her gaze travels across my naked body and I grab a pillow for shelter.
"I'm sorry," she says again. "I didn't know you were home. Roscoe said I could crash in here."
Well, that didn't take long. I figured he'd sleep with her eventually.
She falls back on the pillow and I notice for the first time she's in nothing but a thin pink bra and matching underwear. She drapes an arm over her eyes. "I'm so hung-over. Last night was...oh, my god...so memorable, but so wrong." She moans and turns onto her side, revealing a tight little ass and a narrow waistline. "What the hell does Ryan keep in that flask? Moonshine? You missed a great party though. It literally ended like an hour ago. Crazy."
I pick up a pair of boxers from the floor and slip into them, my back to her. "So you didn't sleep with my brother last night?"
"No!" She sits up quickly, then holds her head in her hands. After a few moments to gather her wits she says, "We were all hanging out at Ryan's. Where were you?" She peeks at me through her hands.
"Out with a friend."
"Oh." She combs her fingers through her hair and drapes it over one shoulder. "A girlfriend? I thought you said you didn't have one."
I open my mouth to respond, but then think better of it. I hardly know this girl and who I spend my time with isn't really any of her business.
I pick up my book and head toward the door. "You rest. I'll be in the den," I call over my shoulder.
"Wait." When I turn back, she's on her knees, eyes wide and pleading. "I don't mind sharing."
I chuckle. "I can think of a few people who might mind," I say.
"I don't bite, Luke." Sheila frowns. "You might as well get used to me," she continues as I step into the hall. "Otherwise, it's going to be a long summer."
I sigh as I close the door behind me. A long summer indeed, but I'm not sure I'll ever get used to any of it.
I hold the phone in my hand, gaze still locked on the paper in the opposite one. It's tomorrow. I smile. She said call tomorrow. I don't want to appear too eager, but then again, why not? She's prepared to let this all end, just like that. I'm not. I still have a few days left and I'm determined to make the best of them.
I punch out the numbers on the cordless and hold the phone to my ear, chewing at the skin on my bottom lip as it rings.
A woman answers. "Hello?"
"Is Shannon there?"
There's a long pause and for a second I think I've lost the connection.
"May I ask who's calling?"
"Uh, it's Luke." Shit, I've forgotten what she told me about her parents. "A...um...a friend from school." Perfect cover. "We go to UI together. I was hoping to get her help with one of my finals." I roll my eyes as I ease into the sofa and prop my feet up on the coffee table.
"Oh." There's a hint of a smile in her voice now. "One moment, Luke. I'll see if I can find her."
There's a shuffling sound, then some whispers that grow more intense as the seconds pass. After a minute or so, Shannon speaks into the phone.
"Hello?"
"Hey," I say, casually as I can.
"Lucas?"
"Have I mentioned how much I love that you call me that?"
"Um...what do you mean?"
"Lucas. I like that you call me Lucas."
"As opposed to...?"
"Uh, well most people call me Luke. But, I mean, it's okay. You can call me whatever you want." I clear my throat. "So, it's tomorrow." I squeeze my eyes shut. Idiot. Just be cool. "I was...um...what are you up to later?"
"I told you, I'm busy." She doesn't sound the least bit annoyed, but I still feel like a fool for calling and asking a question I already knew the answer to. "I have a Youth Group meeting at the church. I'm secretary, so I have to be there. Otherwise..."
My heart literally skips a beat and I've never felt like more of a pussy. Otherwise. That's promising.
"I just thought I'd call to say, hey. I mean, I was hoping you'd be free, but I guess you weren't kidding about being all booked up."
"No," she says. "I wasn't."
"Do you think you could squeeze sometime in on Saturday night?"
"Don't you leave Saturday?"
"Sunday morning."
"I don't know, Lucas." Her voice drops to a whisper. "I have to work and I have church on Sunday. I usually get there pretty early. I'm a..." She laughs lightly.
"You're what?"
"A Sunday School teacher. I teach the pre-school class."
"Wow." I'm truly stunned, unsure of what else I can possibly say to make her see things my way. I have to see her again. I. Have. To. "You didn't tell me you taught Sunday School."
"Because I knew how you'd react."
I chuckle. "Fair enough."
There's movement in my peripheral and I turn to see Sheila enter the room. She's fully dressed now. Well, not really. She's got on a white tank top that's thin enough for me to see her bra, and a pair of Daisy Dukes. She smiles at me and sits in the chair across the way, crossing her legs and flipping through a magazine.
Jesus, I thought this girl had a hangover.
"Look, I have to go." Shannon clears her throat and I turn my attention back to our conversation. "But good luck with your trip okay and make sure you call me when you get back."
"Wait," I say, quickly. "That's it?"
"What do you mean?"
"This is goodbye?"
"I told you...I'm busy."
That missing heart beat must finally be kicking in because it feels like someone just punched me in the chest. "You're just going to say goodbye to me over the phone?"
"I thought we said goodbye last night. You can call me while you're gone. We can talk."
Sheila moves to the sofa beside me. She folds legs underneath and her arm brushes dangerously close to mine.
I angle my body away from her. "I don't want to talk," I practically snap and rub my forehead. "I mean...I don't only want to talk," I say more gently.
Shannon sighs. "I know. Me neither. But...well, this is how it is. It's only three months. What can possibly change in three months?"
"A lot," I say.
She laughs, softly and I instantly feel a little better. "I promise not to get married or have any kids in the next three months, if you promise to call me the first chance you get. We can figure it out from there. All right?"
I nod. "Cool. But next time, could you answer the phone? Your mom's like a fucking warden."
She laughs again. "Promise."
I hang up, frustrated as hell. I didn't realize she actually considered last night a goodbye. I was sure I'd be able to convince her to go out again. Positive. I guess I'm not as charming as I thought.
"Trouble in paradise?" Sheila asks. She reaches out to touch the tattoo on my arm.
Damn it, I should have put on a shirt. This girl is doing everything to get under my skin. And as much as I'm trying to avoid her, she's making it damn near impossible. Why the hell would Roscoe let her in here dressed like that? Why would he hire her at all? It's just asking for trouble.
I get up from the chair, to return the
phone to the kitchen. "Not at all," I call over my shoulder.
Nothing I can't fix anyway.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sheila
Getting Luke's attention is becoming a chore I'm not sure I want to bother with anymore. After our night at Chagrin's, I was sure I was getting through to him. Especially after we sang that song together, but I've finally figured out what my problem is. Another girl.
It should make me feel better. But of course it doesn't. Now I just want to know what the hell she did that I can't.
He probably still thinks I'm trying to sleep with him after finding me in his bed like that too.
I groan and squeeze my eyes shut. Why the hell did I have to drink so much last night? It's Roscoe's fault. To be fair, I'm the one who suggested we play I Never, but he's the one who made it especially hard on me.
I never sang in the church choir.
I never wore a dress.
I never had a crush on Vanilla Ice.
I never saw Cole Rose in the buff.
I never eye-fucked Roscoe Black.
Ugh. I can't even believe I admitted to that last one. I should have backed out while I had the chance. But it's like the drunker I got, the less I cared how stupid I looked.
Then I went and agreed to a game of cards. I laugh, just thinking about it. I've been playing Crazy Eights since I was four. My grandpa taught me. As competitive as I am, he's the only one that would ever play with me. Now it seems I've found my match with Roscoe. He plays Eights like he's betting everything he's got. Which is why I thought it would be safe to turn it into a drinking game.
How wrong was I?
Now Luke thinks I'm even more of a trick than he did before. Why can't my one on one encounters with that guy ever be half-normal? And then I follow him downstairs? What was I thinking? I wasn't. I was still half-drunk. So much for sound decision-making. Maybe I should stay away from every mind altering substance from now on. At least when there's a chance I'll run into him.
