“Hi.”
He glanced toward the corner where Dr. Heller sat. “What can I get for you?”
His tone wasn’t the tone of a guy who’d specifically asked me to come by. Maybe he was behaving circumspectly for his coworkers’ benefit.
“Um, a grande Americano, I guess.”
He grabbed the cup from the stack and made the drink. I tried to hand him my card, but he shook his head once. “That’s okay. I’ve got it.”
His coworkers exchanged a look I pretended not to see.
I thanked him and retreated to the opposite side of the shop from Dr. Heller, setting up my laptop to work on my econ project. I had to glean information from multiple sources to defend the position my research paper was taking. It was due before Thanksgiving break, less than two weeks away.
If I never had to make up another midterm, it would be too soon.
After an hour, I’d bookmarked a dozen sources on current international economic happenings, my coffee was gone, and Lucas hadn’t come over once. I was expected at the high school for my weekly Friday afternoon bass lessons in half an hour. Shutting down my laptop, I turned to unplug the power cord from the wall.
“Ms. Wallace.” At Dr. Heller’s unexpected greeting, I jumped, knocking over my thankfully-empty cup. “Oh! So sorry to have startled you!”
“Oh, that’s okay. I’m a little jumpy—from, uh, the coffee.” And from thinking for one split second that you were Lucas.
“I just wanted to let you know that Mr. Maxfield tells me you’re almost caught up, and making headway on the project. I’m glad to hear it.” He lowered his voice and glanced around conspiratorially. “My colleagues and I don’t actually want to fail anyone, you know. Our goal is to frighten—I mean encourage—the less, er, serious students to produce. Not that I believe you’re one of those.”
I returned his smile. “I understand.”
He straightened and cleared his throat. “Good, good. Well, on that note—have a productive weekend.” He chuckled at his joke and I managed to avoid rolling my eyes.
“Thank you, Dr. Heller.”
He walked to the counter and spoke to Lucas as I wound the power cord and stowed the laptop in my backpack. The conversation between them was earnest, and I was concerned when Dr. Heller seemed to gesture toward me at least once. I wondered if our professor believed that Lucas was one of those less serious students he could intimidate into becoming more dedicated. If so, I didn’t want to be used as some sort of example.
As I walked out, I looked over my shoulder, but Lucas didn’t shift his gaze my way at all, and his expression was tense. His coworker, wiping down a counter a few feet away, smirked at me.
When I left the high school two hours later, I switched on my phone, endeavoring to look forward to a weekend alone while it powered up. Clearly, the trip to Starbucks was a bust. Lucas had been, if possible, even more puzzling and cagey than he was before.
While working on the project, I’d emailed Landon to thank him for sending the worksheet Wednesday, and for insisting that I do it. Not wanting to trigger a possible guilt complex, I didn’t directly refer to the tipoff he’d knowingly given me, in case he was the rigorously honest type of guy he seemed to be. I hadn’t heard from him since Wednesday, but maybe he would email this afternoon or tonight. Maybe he’d be free this weekend, and we could finally meet.
I had one text from Erin that she and Chaz had arrived in Shreveport—along with lots of insinuation about what I could do with a room to myself, and Mom had texted to ask about my Thanksgiving plans. Kennedy and I had alternated spending the day at his house or mine the past three years. Somehow, this translated into confusion about whether or not I was coming home this year. When I texted her back that yes, breaking up with a guy generally means no more shared holidays, I expected an apology to follow. I should have known better.
Mom: Don’t be snippy. Your dad and I planned and paid for a trip to Breckenridge that weekend, because we thought you could stay at the Moore’s. I guess we’ll have to cancel.
Me: Go ahead and go. I’ll go home with Erin or something.
Mom: Ok. If you’re sure.
Me: I’m sure.
Wow. My boyfriend dumps me, and the first chance Mom has to be tangibly supportive, she and Dad are taking off alone to go skiing. Way to make me feel wanted and included, Mom. As if Kennedy’s rejection wasn’t enough to deal with. Jesus.
I tossed my phone in an empty cup-holder and drove back to campus, prepared to watch reality TV and work on economics all weekend.
When I got to my room, I saw that Lucas had texted while I was driving back.
Lucas: Sorry I didn’t say goodbye
Me: It was awkward with Dr. Heller there I guess.
Lucas: Yeah.
Lucas: So, I’d like to sketch you.
Me: Oh?
Lucas: Yeah
Me: Okay. Not, like, sans clothes or anything right?
Lucas: Haha no. Unless you’re up for that.
Lucas: J/k. Is tonight ok? Or tomorrow night?
Me: Tonight is good.
Lucas: Cool. I can be there in a couple of hours.
Me: Ok.
Lucas: What’s your room number?
Me: 362. I’ll need to let you into the building.
Lucas: I can probably get in. I’ll text you if I can’t.
Chapter 8
Lucas’s knock was light. I was so nervous that I was trembling when I got up to answer the door.
He’d said he wanted to sketch me, but I wasn’t sure if that’s all he wanted to do, or if it was code for more. Erin would never let me hear the end of it if I had him in our room and didn’t at least get him to kiss me, though Lucas didn’t strike me as the sort of guy who usually had to stop at kissing. Plenty of girls saw college as some sort of exploratory period, and many would be more than happy to explore Lucas. But it had taken me over a year to work up to sex with Kennedy, and he was the only guy I’d ever slept with. I wasn’t ready to go there with Lucas, not yet anyway—rebound or not.