I’m sure he’s asleep—he sent this message hours ago—but three dots pop up seconds later, indicating he’s typing.
Lucas: No.
Me: No?
Me: Why did you tell me about it if I can’t see it?
Lucas: Giving you shit is fun.
I roll my eyes. There’s no doubt in my mind he’s enjoying himself right now.
Me: You’re an asshole.
Lucas: I know… I used to care much more than I do now. What’s the point in worrying about something you can’t change?
My brows pinch together. I don’t know if he’s being serious. Lucas is impossible to pin down. I’m not sure if anyone ever has. If so, not anyone I know.
Me: I was giving you shit.
I hope he realizes that’s a play on his words.
Lucas: But it’s true.
Me: We can all be assholes. It’s human nature.
I don’t know why I’m defending him to…well, himself, because the truth is Lucas can be a bigger dick than most people, but I’m not immune to asshole behavior myself. On the outside, it looks like Lucas had it easy, but I know he didn’t. Coach Blake was never good to him.
Iwasn’t always good to him. Ellis wasn’t either.
Lucas: Aww, look at you being sweet. Did you have a change of heart after our night on the roof?
Me: I changed my mind. You’re the only asshole.
Lucas: In the whole world? I’m honored you think so highly of me.
I smile, and it’s a strange thing…smiling while texting with Lucas. It’s strange to be texting with him at all.
Me: Why are you awake? It’s late.
I have an excuse. I just got back from a football game. He could be tucked into bed right now.
Lucas: I’m drunk, and I suck at sleep.
Me: Same.
It takes me a moment to realize I admitted that to him, that I told him I struggle to sleep, because it feels like letting him in on the chaos inside my head.
Lucas: You really shouldn’t drink so much.
I chuckle, the sound echoing in my empty bedroom, which is fucking ridiculous.
Me: I meant the sleeping thing.
Lucas: Oh. My bad. I’m glad to hear you’re not secretly getting drunk.
I roll my eyes. He knows exactly what I meant.
Me: Are you?
