I hold the paper between my fingers, smiling and taking slow sips of a deliciously silky flat white. It’s still hot. How early did Lucas place the order? How did he know I’d be up and needing this? The thought makes my stomach warm in a way not even coffee can match.
I breathe in the flat white, letting the smell linger in my lungs, looking at the note again and again, reveling in the feeling of being cared for.
I didn’t realize how tired I was of being the one doing the caring.
Or how disorienting it is to have someone think of me first.
A knock out in the hall makes me nearly drop the cup. I freeze.
Did Lucas deliver it? No, he can’t have. I got a text from the coffee shop. That means he must have been hiding in the stairwell to put the note on the bottom.
A moment later, I hear the thud of footsteps outside, moving fast.
Did someone see the delivery? Lucas? Did the front desk alert Doug?
You’re being crazy,I tell myself.It was a delivery, not Lucas himself standing in the hallway. No one knows he’s the one behind it.
I know I should go back to work, but I can’t help thinking of Lucas, and because I’m feeling uncharacteristically indulgent, I flip open our texts from last night.
Lucas
It’s ten and I’m already asleep. Aren’t you so proud?
Scottie
Are you sleep texting me? And should I be flattered or worried?
Lucas
Yes, sleep texting, and yes, flattered. Also maybe worried, not because I’m creepy but because I may have a sleep disorder.
Quinnitis.
Scottie
That sounds bad.
Lucas
Terrible. I can hardly sleep at all. The second I close my eyes, it’s all Quinn all the time.
Scottie
Poor Lukie.
Lucas
I don’t suppose you have Lukitis?
Scottie
Ew. No.
I may have Restless Luke Syndrome, though, but it’s mild. I’m sure it’ll go away.
Lucas
Nope. Sorry, Restless Luke Syndrome is a lifelong thing. You might think it’s going away but it’s just dormant, not something you can get over. Sorry to say you’re stuck with it forever.
