Preston Brothers: Lucas Part 30

I look at Luke. "You are?" I hate that I don't know this about him. Up until this school year, I'd been to all his meets and knew all his times and now... "I didn't know."

"It's cool," Luke says. "But this meet-I mean, I'll be competing in under 21s so I won't be competing against Cooper, but he'll probably be there so..."

Oh. "Oh."

Luke's gaze drops, and I feel his disappointment before I see it take over his body.

"So what?" I say, and I'm already preparing the excuses in my head. "I still want to go."

Luke shrugs. "We'll see," he says. He knows me too well.

"I got to pick up Lachlan and take him to the store," Tom says. "Lane, you staying for dinner? It's LTT night!"

"What's LTT?" I ask, looking between father and son.

"Lachlan's Tasty Tacos!" Tom says.

I cringe. "That sounds scary."

Tom chuckles. "It's pancakes."

"Folded," Luke adds.

"Because tacos," Tom says.

"Right." I nod.

"And I take him to the store to select and buy his filling."

"Candy," Luke says.

My eyes light up. "Pancakes filled with candy?"

Tom says, "But the best part is the hit or miss salsa."

Luke faces me. "Lachlan gets a bunch of candy and blends it together to make the sauce. As the name states, it's very hit or miss."

Tom's standing now, pocketing his phone, keys, and wallet. "It's dessert for dinner, Laney. Right up your alley."

"And Luke actually eats this?" I ask Tom.

"He gets this twitch in his left eye and his hands shake and he breaks out in a sweat."

"Probably pre-calculating the calories," I say with a giggle.

"He has one bite and then runs for two hours afterward."

Luke shakes his head. "I don't like LTT night," he murmurs, and I laugh, tell them that as much I'd love to stay for LTT night, I can't. I have to work. Luke gives me a ride home so I can get ready, and I walk to work for my 4 pm s.h.i.+ft. At 9 pm, an hour before my s.h.i.+ft ends, Luke shows up with a Ziploc bag in his hand. "Lachlan didn't want you missing out on his tasty tacos." He slides it across the small opening of the ticket booth. The pancake's still warm as if he'd just made it, and I'm almost positive that Lachlan has nothing to do with this. "And I thought I'd give you a ride home."

"That's really nice, Luke." And it feels strange saying those words-as if I'm trying hard to be super, uber, extra polite, and I don't know why. "But my s.h.i.+ft doesn't end for another hour."

"Oh."

"Yeah..."

"But you always finish at nine on Thursdays."

"New roster. Sorry."

"I'll come back then," he says quickly.

"Or you could stay," I say, just as fast. Truthfully, I could use the company. "You can hang out with me in here. It's quiet." I lift my psychology textbook. "I'm just catching up on homework."

Within seconds, he's opening the side door and joining me in a small room made for one, not two, and now we're close, too close, and it's terrifying in all the best possible ways. He gets out his phone, takes a picture of the noticeboard on the wall. "What are you doing?" I ask.

"Getting your new roster. I don't want you walking anywhere."

"Okay, Cooper," I say, and soon as his name leaves my mouth, I mentally cut off my tongue. Stupid. So stupid.

Luke's eyes drift shut, his shoulders tense.

"Sorry," I whisper. "I don't know why I said that." I try to find something to do so we can move on, and fast. I open the bag and pull out the pancake taco and a note falls out with it: 29 days, Lois Lane.

I find my voice, croak out his name and glance up at him. He looks from the note to me, his eyes searching. Then he leans against the wall, his shoulders slumped. "I get that you might feel pressured-with what's going on between us-and I know you're still at that stage where you probably have a ton of mixed feelings, but I don't, Lane. I want to be with you. More than anything. And I'm willing to wait until you're ready. But if there's any chance that you're still in love with him, or that you're going to get back together with him without even giving me a chance, then I'd rather know now. Save myself the disappointment."

"You're right," I say, and his gaze drops. "I do have a ton of mixed feelings, but none of them have to do with Cooper. They don't even have to do with you. It's all about me and whether or not I'm strong enough to go through it all again. As far as getting back with Cooper, that's never going to happen. Ever."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

A customer approaches then, asks Luke for two tickets to the latest Marvel movie even though I'm the one sitting behind the desk. "Sure." Luke steps forward and presses random b.u.t.tons on the register. I cringe, and Luke says, "That'll be fifteen dollars, sir."

The man looks at the admission sign, looks at Luke. "It should be twelve."

"Sorry. My math is bad."

The customer points to the register. "Isn't that what that's for?"

Luke glares at him, presses more random b.u.t.tons until the cash drawer flies open, hits Luke in the junk. I giggle. I can't help it. The man gives him fifteen dollars, tells him to keep the change. He earned it. Then I offer Luke my chair, and he sits, rests his head on my stomach. I stroke his hair, his ego. "Better?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "Not for another twenty-nine days."

Chapter Twenty-Seven.

LUCAS.

Over the next week, I spend more time with Laney than I did the entire time she was dating Cooper. I drive us to and from school, and when I'm available, I drive her to work. But I always pick her up, and I always show up an hour early. I don't make excuses as to why I'm there, and she doesn't ask, simply opens the side door for me. I now know how to work the register. When I drop her home, I walk her to the door. She doesn't invite me in, and I don't ask. But the question is there, hanging in the air, another one of our little games, and one day (soon) I'll win. I always win. And so it's been a week of conversation, a week of building back what we once had, a week of touching and teasing and mentally counting down the days. Today, it's twenty-two.

Laney returns to the booth with a bucket of popcorn and hands it to me. "You've got that look," she says.

I take the popcorn, sniff it. "What look?"

"No b.u.t.ter, no salt," she says, "and that hungry I'm-going-to-eat-your-face look."

"Your face isn't what I'd be eating should it come down to that," I tell her.

"Lucas!" she gasps.

I sell two tickets to the couple who own the comic book/s.e.x toy shop. The husband winks. The wife says, "We have body paint in all flavors."

They leave, and Laney's still staring at me with wide eyes and an even wider mouth and I look away. The things I plan to do with that mouth.

She sits in a chair in the corner of the booth, and I stand behind the register, our regular routine. She says, "That meet in Charlotte this weekend-you really think Cooper's going to be there?"

I throw a handful of popcorn at her.

"Luke!" she squeals, already getting the brush and dustpan. Not working here is fun.

"Why do you care if he's going? Do you want to see him?"

"It depends."

I turn to her. "On what exactly?"

She scoops up the popcorn, empties the dustpan in the trash. "On whether or not you can lend me $800..."

I switch the ticket booth sign to closed and shut the curtains. "You owe Cooper money or something?"

"No," she says, sitting back down, her hands empty. "I want to pay his share of the car, and I don't have enough. I tried to get a credit card, but it won't be here in time. I'll pay you back as soon as I get it."

"The car was a gift, Lane."

"And if it came from my dad alone, I'd appreciate it, but you don't know Coop. There's an ulterior motive for everything. I just don't know what it is yet," she says.

"Okay." I nod. "I'll front you the cash, but don't pay me back with a f.u.c.king credit card. The interest rates on those things are ridiculously high. Just pay me back whenever. If you need more, it's no problem." I hate talking about Cooper, and I hate the sudden awkwardness it brings, especially in such a tight s.p.a.ce. I look at the time. 9:15. I should leave, drive, clear my head, come back when it's time. "I'll be back at ten," I tell her.

"Where are you going?"

"I forgot a thing... for my dad."

"Okay."

I leave, come back at 10:02, and the first thing she says is, "What got into you?"

I sigh, hands on the wheel. "I just don't like talking about Cooper, okay? And you can't be p.i.s.sed that I get mad when you bring him up."

She doesn't respond, and we spend the drive to her house in silence. I get out, walk her to the bas.e.m.e.nt door. "I'm sorry," she says, unlocking the door and turning to me. "I just thought..." She trails off, looks away.

"Thought what?"

Her eyes meet mine. "I thought I could talk to you about this, that you, out of everyone, would understand how important it is for me to cut ties with him once and for all so I can move on... especially considering you're the one I plan on moving on with."

I'm such a f.u.c.king d.i.c.k. I step forward, one hand on her waist, the other in her hair, pulling her to me. Then I lean against the doorframe, one foot in her room. "You want me to stay?" I ask.

She says, "Yes," and my heart skips a beat. But then she adds, "But you shouldn't." She kisses my cheek, guides me back outside. "Twenty-two days," she tells me.

Twenty-two days turns to twenty-one turns to twenty, which is also the day of the track meet in Charlotte. I have to leave by 5 am to get there by 6 for registration. At 4:45, while I'm packing my gear, my regular alarm goes off at the same time there's a knock on my door. Laney's on the other side, her hair a mess, her eyes half closed, and I don't even bother hiding my surprise. She'd already given me her share of the cash she wanted me to hand over to Cooper, as well as specific instructions: "Tell him it's for the car. That's all you have to say. Nothing more. Nothing less. I mean it, Luke. Nothing more!"

I open the door wider. "4:45 looks good on you, Sanders."

"f.u.c.k you and coffee," she mumbles.

"Counter."

She pushes me out of the way and shuffles to the kitchen, and I go back to packing. "What are you doing here?"

"Coffee."

I look up at her. "You ran out of coffee?"

"Coffee first. Talk later."

"Right."

I finish packing, drop my bag by the door.

4:53. I need to get going, and she needs to tell me what's going on.

"Lane?" I slip on my shoes by the door. "What are you doing here?" I ask again. I should probably explain why nothing is making sense. Laney does not do well this early in the morning. That's an understatement. She doesn't even know how to function. Last time I had a meet she had to get up this early for, I picked her up, and she had on two different pairs of shoes, her arm through the neck hole of her top and her jeans were inside out. After I helped her dress properly (the top half anyway-I left her to work out the whole jeans problem later) we got in the car, and she slept the entire drive, her head against the window and drool streaking down her chin. I found a parking spot, grabbed Wet Ones from the glove box I kept for Lachlan. I cleaned her up, helped her walk to the stands and wrapped her up in a blanket I brought specifically for that purpose. It took forever for me to register for the event, and when I got back to her, she was asleep. It wasn't until the first starter pistol that she shot up and realized where she was. She sent me a text right away.

Omg!

Did I miss it?

I fell asleep!