Lucas:I’M DYING
Lucas:but yes I’m legal beagle lol I’ll be 26 in nov.
Once again my muscles dramatically relaxed and a groan bucked at the back of my throat. I tapped out,thank god, sent it, then realized that perhaps I was showing my hand a bit too freely.
Lucas, however, did not seem at all bothered, because he sent me a winking emoji followed by a cheeky question as to what I was wearing. Without missing a beat I replied,a three-piece suit.Dior.And something incredible happened.
I heard him laugh through the wall.
The timbre of his voice was somehowgolden, bright, like the rich tone of distant music. He sounded like the human embodiment of warm sunlight against the side of my face. I was filled with a happy prickle at the thought that I’d made him laugh, the idea that he was just a few meters away, smiling down at my words.
In less pain, if only for a few moments.
August 9th
“Where am I supposed to be right now?” I asked Maggie, fully committing myself to the role of clueless celebrity talent. We were doing last-minute promo shoots for the play, and the pre-show buzz was now an event that lasted days.
I was filled with a wonderful, horrible tension that thrummed like rubber bands and was successfully distracting me from the dread of opening night. I was Peter Pan, lighter than air, and I’d barely even considered a certain Skyler Evans in a certain capacity for almost a week. Well, a couple of days.
An hour.
Except that was a total lie.
I kept thinking back to the conversation we’d had about Delia and how to remain friends with someone you wanted to kiss the ever-loving shit out of. That wasn’t the exact wording, but it had been heavily implied. What was I supposed to do about the fact that he was too wonderful and it was physically impossible for me not to be in love with him and that I was also Robin Finch, prima donna.
Maggie finally looked up from her clipboard and acknowledged me by rolling her eyes. “We’re done with the ensemble shots, so yeah”—she waved me back toward the stage—“it’s time for your favorite part of the day.”
I forced a grin. “Glamour shots?”
Sure enough, the moment the words left my mouth, I was pounced on by Kita and Lawrence, who insisted on redoing my makeup and hair before the shoot. I was trying to get lost in the pre-show euphoria again, I really was, but I’d fully jinxed myself by letting my brain whisper his name.
This had become my new normal—I’d be doing something else,anythingelse,and out of nowhere the thought of Skyler would drift closer in the back of my mind like a megalodon rising silently from the depths.
Once Lawrence had made my face one giant cheekbone and Kita had gotten my hair fluffy beyond comprehension, I headed out onto the stage. The set remained hung from the last dress rehearsal; it was the matte painting of Neverland, but with elements of barista-ing hidden in the details, and of course the prop coffee counter stood off stage right. There were a few people milling about in the orchestra pit, mostly crew and some cast members who were sticking around to watch how the lead (that would be me) was fawned over by the media (the one guy hired by the theater department). There was a blond leaning against the stage, a fancy-looking camera hanging around his neck.
When he saw me, he hopped lightly onto the stage, extending a well-manicured hand.
“Hey, I’m Lucas Barclay, I’ll be your photographer today.” He had a goofy smile, and it didn’t matter how messed up I was feeling, I couldn’t help butlikeLucas Barclay.
I grasped his hand and pumped it twice, grinning up at him. “I’m Robin Peregrine Finch. Pleased to meet you, Lucas Barclay!”
Lucas Barclay...
“This looks like it’s going to be amazing,” he was saying, but it sounded like it was coming from a long way off. “Amazing and weird. Like, why is there an espresso machine in Neverland, right?”
“Why indeed,” I managed, frowning up at him. Why did that name sound so familiar? Lucas Barclay,LucasBarclay, who the hell was LucasBarclay? Why did I know that name?Lucas Bar—
“Oh my god, you’re Martha Stewart!” I shrieked. “You’reLucas Barclay!”
“Y-yes ...?” He coughed, clearly startled, but still keeping that sweet smile. “Um ... have we met?”
I shook my head, ruining whatever effect Kita had been going for. “I work for Armand! Your roommate? The guy youneversee?”
Lucas’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped a little, but before he could say anything, I grabbed his upper arms and pushed him back.
“Oh wow, let melookat you!” I took a few steps back, then scanned him up and down.
He was tall, though not as tall as Armand, and built like a fitness model, with the kind of face that put you in mind of the boy next door. Thehandsomeboy next door. The handsome and stylish boy next door.
