Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
Only as soon as I come to this decision — of telling Lucas — I find out that the tragedy that we knew was just around the corner has come to pass: Lucas’s dad passes away. It happens the very next day from when I was supposed to meet him at that party and the funeral is two days later. Which I attend with a myriad of feelings.
Sadness for Lucas that he lost his father; even though there wasn’t any love lost between them. Nervousness at seeing him because I still haven’t given an answer to his ultimatum and maybe I can’t now, given the changed circumstances.
But most of all what I feel is dread.
Because I know if I’m at the funeral with my parents, he’s going to be there too.
And he is.
Wearing black like the rest of them: a black dress shirt, black dress pants and a black suit jacket.
Among the sea of black, he still stands out though.
His colorful bruises, his spiky hair.
Those broad shoulders and that tall body.
Probably because even though he’s wearing a suit like all the men here, it does nothing to tame his dangerous, bandit vibes. Not to mention, the sun hits him differently than it does the world, recognizing his summer skin and fiery eyes.
Or maybe he hits me differently than the rest of the world.
Because he’s the guy I’m in love with.
He’s the guy I finally understand that I see with rose-colored glasses and a red pulpy heart.
So it’s very hard to take my eyes off him.
To not seek him out in the crowd as they bury Lucas’s father in a polished oak casket.
I try to be respectful though.
To all the people involved. To Lucas, to my parents.
But mostly I try to be respectful to him.
He’s spent years watching me moon over his best friend, be his best friend’s girlfriend. And even though I have zero intentions of ever returning to Lucas, he doesn’t know that and so I’ll be damned if he has to go through it again, even for a single second.
Not to mention, I’ll be damned if he sees love in my eyes and regrets finally acting on his feelings and coming for me.
Although he’s not making it very easy.
Not only because of his dashing suit but also because while I’m trying to be a good girl for him, he doesn’t have to do the same for me.
He doesn’t have to be good.
He doesn’t have to look away from me or not stare at me from across the space.
Everywhere I’ve gone today, his reddish-brown eyes have followed me.
I’ve felt them on the back of my neck, running up and down my spine, caressing my body, my face, my dress.
My braid; the thing that he’s obsessed with.
So when during the reception, Lucas actually seeks me out at his house, I don’t like it.
At all.
He says that he wants to talk to me in private and when I go to protest, my parents insist. And before I know it, I find myself following Lucas through his large living room and into this long hallway that leads to rooms in the back.
And every step I take, I feel him.
I feel his eyes growing even more fiery, more heated. I bet his body is all tight right about now, shaking in the way it does when all his muscles go extra taut and strained. His bruises must be pulsing along with his stubbled jaw.
I wish I could turn around and tell him that it’s okay.
But I can’t.
So cringing and fidgeting, I enter Lucas’s father’s study as directed.
“Hi,” I greet him, not knowing what else to say.
Wearing black like the rest of them, plus a tie — unlike him — Lucas stands at the door, leaning against it, his blue eyes pinned on me. He’s as grim-faced as he was at the burial and my heart goes out to him.
“I’m sorry for your dad,” I whisper, rubbing my hands on my thighs.
He shrugs finally, his shoulders appearing broader in the jacket. “We all knew it was coming.”
“But still, it can’t be easy.”
“Well, he’s gone now and I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay. I understand that.”
For a few seconds after that, he simply stares at me.
There’s a reason he brought me here, and while I’m slightly nervous about it — because I think I know that reason — I’m going to be patient and have him come out with it when he wants to.
“You didn’t show up at the party.”
I knew it.
I wanted to call the very next day and meet up with him. But then we heard the news and I didn’t think it was the right time to talk about this stuff. To compound his already complicated grief.
But I guess, if he wants to talk about it, then we should.
“I was going to but…”