The first was for Lucas to continue spending money on me without my being able to reciprocate; the second was to force Lucas to cook for me; and the third was to do the cooking myself.I also didn’t want to leave the flat, so technically there were four things, but that last was the easiest to get past given how much practice I’d had in recent months.
So when Lucas said he wanted to go out, I couldn’t say,Nah, love, because that implicitly meant I was either asking him to cook or offering to cook (and I cared too much for both of us to attempt that).We usually got takeaways from my favorite haunts—which were rarely sit-down establishments—so when the time came to go out, it was invariably Lucas’s pick.
And with the noted exception of myself, Lucas’s tastes ran posh.
I’d managed to convince him to stay in Croydon, and he’d gone ahead and found a family-owned Nepalese restaurant with some of the most beautiful decor I’d ever seen, five quid garlic naan, and mercifully, almost no other patrons on a Wednesday night.Lucas took photos of the food, took photos of me eating the food, and right when I thought he might actually eat something, fiddled with his phone, muttering about hashtags.
I placed a hand on his arm.“Love, post it later.Once we’ve left.”I tried not to sound desperate, but Lucas narrowed his eyes.
“Babe, are you worried about geolocating?Has someone been weird—”
“No,” I said, perhaps too quickly.I bit my lip.“I’m paranoid.Humor me?”
He rolled his eyes and set his phone face down on the table.“Fine, I’ll be in the moment or whatever.”Then he stole some of my chickpeas like a sweet squirrel of a man.
I pushed my plate toward him and smiled, resting my chin in my hand.Lucas was happily tasting every dish on the table, giving an adorable shoulder shimmy whenever something turned out to be exceptionally delicious.
“Are you aware,” I asked, “that you are quite possibly the cutest person on the planet?”
Lucas’s cheeks colored.“Oh sure, cute like a little pig.”He gave two derisive snorts and set his fork down.
I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I simply ladled more daal onto his plate.“Lucas,eat, love.”
After a few moments he reached for the aloo chop.I smiled and made a point not to watch him eat.
“So, I know we technically don’t need to do any more officialSurrogate Goosesightseeing”—Lucas looked at me through his lashes—“but you know what I’ve always wanted to see?”His voice had the familiar weedling tone he used to get me to pose.
“What?”I asked tiredly.
“King’s College.Isn’t it the oldest university in England?”
My stomach went cold.“Er, no, that’s Oxford, actually.King’s was founded later, a-as a secular option.”I was babbling.I had to come out and say it.“I, er ...”I swallowed.“I w-went there, actually.”I swallowedagain.“For a time.”
Lucas gave me a sweet, furthering smile.“Wow, really?What did you study?”There was no accusation, unspoken or otherwise, no suggestion that he’d noticed I’d somehow failed to mention this in every attempted interview and timeline construction we’d done for the anniversary event.
“A-arts and Humanities.”I took a painfully large swig of water.“Didn’t finish.”I coughed.Lucas was still watching me, and my face had grown so hot I was sweating.I had to say something more.Give him a reason that wasn’t ...true.“Money troubles.”
It wasn’t a complete lie.
“Oh.”Lucas frowned, his mouth working for a moment as if there was something else he wanted to say.“I’m sorry.”
I shrugged and pushed the hair out of my face with both hands, trying desperately to think of any way to change the subject.My mind had gone blank.
“You know”—Lucas picked at his saag paneer, and I knew what was coming—“I’d never post anything you don’t want people to know about.”
“I know that, love.I do.”I tried to smile.“It’s just, I wasn’t there for very long, so it didn’t seem important.Thank you,” I added as Lucas poured me more water; my earlier attempts to drown myself had left my glass quite empty.I gently nudged the last vegetable samosa toward him.
I still needed to change the subject.“So, your mother’s coming to the exhibition?”It was a stupid question, but perhaps I could salvage this.“I’m, er, excited to meet her.”The thought of meeting Lucas’s mother terrified me, but it was also a hurdle I sincerely wanted to clear.I’d always done well with older women; one could only hope that whatever appeal I held would extend to Cheyenne Barclay.
“Try and stop her.She’s excited to meet you too.”Lucas grinned, nudging the samosa right back toward me.I gave up and ate it.“I told her she could stay on the couch.”
I choked, and Lucas patted my back, laughing.“I’m kidding, she’s staying at the Savoy, like always.”
I coughed, eyes watering, and tried to recover from the attempted inhalation of peas and lentils.“Oh, aye, right, hilarious.I mean.”I sighed through my teeth.“Shecouldstay with us, of course, but it would—” be the most awkward situation imaginable.
“No, breathe, Armand.”Lucas was still rubbing my back.“I’m sorry, that was mean.She wants to stay at the Savoy.I want her to stay at the Savoy.”
Doyouwant to stay at the Savoy?I gulped that thought down, tried to cover it with feigned joviality.“I don’t see why, my flat has all the same amenities.Who wouldn’t want to live in what is ostensibly a hallway?Now with the added excitement of damp.”
