Whipping out my phone, I let Lucas know that won’t fly with me.
Gemma: What was that?
It doesn’t take long for his response, my phone buzzing as I trudge to my locker.
Lucas: What?
Gemma: ??? Bimbo 1 and Bimbo 2 hanging on your arm? The cuddling? Sorry if I don’t like parties, but don’t think you can be a fucking manwhore and I’ll be cool with it.
Lucas: Chill out, that’s not what was happening. I was playing wingman. I can’t help it if chicks flock to me. You’ll have to deal.
My eyebrows fly up. This fucker…
Gemma: Don’t act like you weren’t eating up the attention. I won’t be yours if it’s a one way road.
Lucas: You are mine. It’s cute you’re jealous.
“Ugh!”
A few people glance at me curiously. I duck my head as I fume.
I don’t like the fake Lucas he presents to everyone else. I thought he was letting me in, showing me he was someone else past all the bullshit. I can’t get a read on him like this other than the neon sign declaring him a giant asshole.
* * *
Despite my anger in the morning, I take a seat next to Lucas on autopilot during lunch. Blair isn’t in school today and I’m feeling stranded at sea amongst ruthless sharks. Blending in is better than painting a target on my back by sitting away from Lucas.
Everyone at the table looks at me like they know something I don’t. There’s that same sickening hunger for blood dancing in their gazes. It grates on my senses, like they’re sticking me with needles to dissect me.
I’ve been on my guard ever since the start of school. Almost two months of daily heckling, lewd jokes, and stupid tricks aren’t erased by an open conversation and the passion Lucas and I shared. It’s a sharp contrast to the lackluster greeting this morn
ing and our argument after.
Lucas is lost in a conversation with Carter about what they’ll do if the playoff game this week is rescheduled. They gesture with their hands as they discuss the possibilities.
It’s more of the fake Lucas. I can tell and he hasn’t even addressed me yet.
The tight lines of tension around his eyes give it away. Those creases drop away when we’re alone.
I wish I sat at my old table by the window. The other people at school have all been nice today, but I feel the chill in the air here. There’s something coming. Anticipation is a live wire running a current down my spine.
I zone back into the conversation when I realize they’ve stopped talking about football. The topic changed to something I never wanted to hear Lucas talking about so brazenly in school.
Lucas fidgets, tugging on his ear. “Nah, man, you know I don’t kiss and tell.”
“You do, though,” someone down the table says.
“It’s for real. Lucas finally won the bet to fuck our resident prude. He really did, look,” Carter boasts to Devlin, offering his phone. “Check this master with his after sex selfie.”
Ice encases me from head to toe. What?
Carter’s eyes flick to me as I sit rigidly beside Lucas.
Devlin does the same, his brows creasing. “You need to hit the gym, bro.”
Lucas swats across the table for him. “Shut up, I lift plenty in the weight room.”
The lemmings all laugh as I stew in humiliation. This has to be some nightmare.