Alright, then. I lean back slightly, fingers tapping against the gear shift, trying not to let it get to me
“I’ll be away on a work trip until Thursday,” I say, “So you can rest up for the rest of the week. I’ll see you at my place on Friday.”
Lucas blinks at me, caught off guard.
“Oh… okay.” He says after a while.
His answer is hesitant, and there’s something in his expression, something flickering in his eyes that I can’t quite place. For the first time, I wish I could read his mind. I wish I knew what the hell was going on in his head.
He grips the handle of the door but doesn’t move to open it right away. Hesitates, biting his lip, that damn lip—before finally exhaling and stepping out of the car.
I sit there for a moment, gripping the wheel like it’ll keep me grounded. Then, with a slow breath, I shift into drive and pull away.
SEVENTEEN
LUCAS
I don’t think about the kiss.
I don’t think about the way Alex felt against me, the way his lips moved over mine, or how his hands held me like I was fragile—like I was precious. I don’t think about the way my chest tightened the morning he told me he’d be gone on a work trip, the way a small, selfish part of me panicked, wondering if maybe he just wanted to avoid me.
It’s a stupid thought.
So I work.
I started that Monday before going to Alex’s place, before being kissed senseless—because I didn’t quit. I’d asked my manager to let me work part-time, four hours a day, so I could still manage classes and meet Alex by five each evening. That was the plan. But now, since I won’t see him until Friday, I work longer shifts. I make coffee. Arrange pastries. Wipe down counters—anything that keeps my hands moving, anything that keeps my mind from spiraling back to him.
To us.
But the hickey on my neck lingers, it’s Thursday, and it still hasn’t faded. Every morning, I carefully dab foundation over it, grateful for the skill I’ve honed—from watching my mother apply makeup, from experimenting on myself, even from Tylershowing me techniques. Tyler had seen the hickeys the first day after Alex dropped me off and gave me hell for it.
Today, I’m finally rounding up my shift, tired but relieved. My shoulders ache, and my head feels heavy from the long hours. I reach for my locker in the staff room, thinking about going home and taking a hot shower, when a loud voice startles me.
“Lucas, my man!”
An arm slings around my shoulders, too close, too tight. My entire body locks up, and my muscles go rigid—panic slams into my ribs before I can stop it. I flinch and jerk away so hard that I nearly stumble back into the lockers.
Jeremy, one of my coworkers, stares at me as if I have just grown another head. His surprise quickly fades into something amused.
“Jesus, relax. It’s just me.”
I force air into my lungs, trying to push down the sharp tremor in my hands. I don’t care who it is. I don’t like being grabbed like that. I don’t like the way it makes my skin crawl.
And when did Jeremy start being friendly with me? He had always been a piece of shit to me ever since he started working here seven months ago.
I pull out my phone and quickly type:Don’t do that again.
When I hold it up to show him, his expression twists into something ugly.
“Or what?” He sneers stepping closer.
I press my lips together, my jaw tight.
I could push him away, shove past him, tell him to screw off—but I don’t want to make a scene. Not here. Not now.
I just shove my phone into my locker and turn away.
Needing a minute.
