I felt his finger on my chin, lifting my face, tilting it toward his. I looked up, met his brown eyes.
“Hi,” he said, more firmly this time, and with such a soft, sweet smile that I felt it shimmer all the way through me.
“Hi,” I said, more sure of myself this time. I was not alone in this. He felt it too.
“Do you need to get back to your dorm?” he asked.
I glanced at Jane’s back and saw just the tiniest of headshakes from her, though she didn’t say a word.
I’d owe her big time for tonight—a price I was more than willing to pay.
“No. We don’t need to get right home,” I said, Lucas’s finger still on my chin. He nodded, then took his hand away, but not before he gently placed the finger on my bottom lip.
“Good,” he said softly. Then, more loudly, “Stick, let’s take a drive to the west side. I’m looking for some inspiration.”
“You got it,” Stick said, and roared the engine as we headed to the other side of Schoolport.
And I wondered why Lucas needed to be inspired.
And I hated to admit it, but I desperately wanted to be part of that inspiration.
Chapter5
We drove for a while,past campus, past the nice area of downtown (small as it was), through the sketchy area of downtown (bigger), and to the downright scary area of the small city.
“God, this town is a total shithole,” Jane remarked. She said the exact same words my father had told me when he’d dropped me off: “Stay on campus, Lily. This town is a shithole.”
There was the same amount of judgment in both their voices.
“Well, not all of us were born with silver spoons,” Stick said to Jane.
“Only half of a silver spoon. And it doesn’t make the town any less of a shithole…asshole. What kind of car is this, anyway? I feel like I’m in a bad ’70s cop show.”
“This is a 1970 Dodge Charger,” Stick said with obvious pride. “Restored to its original glory. An American classic.”
“Yeah, a classic, all right…classic case of bad taste in cars.”
And they were off. The verbal volleys flying fast and furiously between them. I’d heard Jane reduce guys to stammering idiots with her quick acid tongue, but Stick gave it right back to Jane.
Lucas smiled listening to them. “Fun with Stick and Jane,” he said quietly to me. I returned his smile, stunned by the brilliance of his, the absolute transforming power of his smile, from broody tough guy to—dare I say—sweet.
“You have the most gorgeous smile,” he whispered.
Jane and Stick were still talking up front, but their banter became white noise, and I felt the cocooning power of being alone with Lucas in Stick’s back seat.
“I was just thinking the same thing about you,” I said, then wished I hadn’t. I grimaced at my stupidity.
“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t ever regret telling me the truth.” His voice was serious, the smile faded.
“I won’t,” I said, meaning it. Somehow I knew I could tell Lucas anything and he wouldn’t think I was a clueless freshman.
“How old are you?” I asked. I knew he was older than me, but I didn’t know by how much.
“Twenty-one. You?”
“Eighteen.” He sighed what sounded like relief. “Almost nineteen,” I added. “I was old for my class.” I didn’t add that my father wanted me to be in the same graduating year as Jane, so, even though I technically could have started school a year earlier, he’d waited. Never mind that we weren’t even in the same school district that Jane’s mom lived in.
My father—the puppet master even all those years ago. Did he really see this happening—Jane and I being roommates—so far in advance? My bet was yes.
