Empty Promises (The Promises Series Book 3) (14 page)

Casey is giggling like a toddler beside us and I'm wondering where the hell the story’s going.

“It turns out that Paulo is Marcus’s boyfriend … of three years! And the reason he didn’t tell me he was gay when I was asking him out was because I was so brazen and overconfident in front of you guys that he didn’t want to embarrass me any more than I already was. You know, since I’d taken the coffee bath, and all.”

Blair and I look at each other, then at Brie, who’s shaking her head, clearly hating the fact that she’s had to fess up to this, and then at Casey, who looks like the weird smiley cat from
Alice in Wonderland
. We all burst out laughing as Brie sits stoic, fighting the smile I can see making the corners of her mouth twitch.

“That
was
kind of nice of him,” Blair says. “It
would
have been more embarrassing if he’d done it in the coffee shop in front of us. At least he was considerate.”

“No, Blair, what’s embarrassing is that I’ve told half the school I'm dating a guy who’s in a full-time committed relationship with another guy! I’m going to sound like such a desperate psycho when everyone finds out. Ugh!”

“Dude, everyone thinks that anyway!” Casey says in a mock comforting tone as she pats her on the shoulder. Brie begins to laugh with us because, well, it’s kind of true.

By the time the girls leave I'm in a great mood. No doubt some of that is because I’m medicated off my ass, but I’m feeling pretty good—light, even—so I text Lucas and tell him I’m on for crossing off a check box, and to pick me up after dinner tomorrow. His reply is almost instant and has me giggling like a moron.

From: Lucas

This will technically be our second date, and you’re willing to sleep with me. That makes me question your morals! Good thing you’re cute and I don’t have any! ;) X

A swarm of butterflies feel like they’ve taken flight in my stomach, and I’m momentarily taken aback. The only person I can ever remember having butterflies over is Ethan. It’s a bittersweet feeling.

I walk down to the family room on shaky legs; the medication I'm on makes me forget that my body isn’t working the way it always has. It’s a sucky reminder, but I'm not dwelling on it. What’s the point?

My parents are watching a movie as I slip quietly in to the room. I need to take a deep breath to steady my nerves.

“Hey, poppet, what’s up?” Dad asks. He shifts so that Mom can sit up; her head was resting in his lap while watching the film.

“I have a question, and you’re probably not going to like it, but I'm asking out of respect and I hope you’ll agree to it out of respect.”

They look at each other, seemingly intrigued and worried by my odd request. “Okay, shoot. What is it?” Dad asks, rubbing his chin and pinching his bottom lip.

“I want to go camping tomorrow with a guy I met at the hospital, Lucas. Before you jump to anything, we’re just friends. He’s really sweet and we’re both in the same boat. He’s sick, too. I know you haven’t met him, but I know you’d like him. Please?”

It takes forty-five minutes of tears and explaining why I want to do this one thing before I die for them to relent. Not because they don’t trust me, or my judgment of Lucas, but because I’m supposedly too sick to be outside all night. It’s kind of ironic, really; I laugh and ask them what’s the worst that can happen. It kills me? They don’t laugh back, but they do finally agree.

We spend the rest of the evening huddled on the couch watching some boring film Dad chose. Mom has to get me blankets because my legs, feet and hands are always cold now. Dad makes me promise to take my comforter, sleeping bag and extra blankets tomorrow. I probably won’t last the whole night outside, but I love that they’re willing to let me try.

“So, you only told your folks about me last night, and they’re okay with me bringing you here?” Lucas asks as he pulls his truck into the field behind his parents’ farmhouse.

We bump along the dirt road until we enter a clearing and he parks. We’re going to be sleeping in the back of his truck tonight. He’s put a mattress on the flatbed to make it as comfy as possible, and he looks to have enough blankets stacked in the back to construct the world’s biggest blanket fort. We’re on his property as per the instructions of his dad; he wanted us close enough to the house so that we can bail if we need to for any reason.

“I wouldn’t really say that they’re okay. More like they're allowing it under protest. I can’t really blame them for not wanting me to do this. I’m in some random field with a boy I know very little about. By anyone’s standards, a sleepover for a second date is a little strange. Plus, when we run out of things to talk about in an hour, this is going to seem like such a bad idea.” I give my mini speech lightheartedly, but I am a tad worried that the conversation is going to dry up because it’s kind of inevitable, and things will get awkward. I’ve never shared a bed with a guy before, or spent an entire night alone with one, for that matter. I think my nerves are justified.

“You know, I could just go for the accidental boob graze now and get it out of the way. Then we can make out till our lips are numb and fall asleep from the sheer exhaustion of fighting to keep our clothes on, when what we really want to do is rip each other’s off. And at least this way, you don’t have to panic about the conversation?” He’s completely straight faced and I feel goose bumps race over my body.

I let out a nervous ... well, I don’t know what to classify it as … squeak, maybe? My toes curl in my sneakers and I begin to fidget with the hem of my sweater.

“I’m joking, Emily.” He nudges me and it does nothing but raise my pulse further. “If you feel uncomfortable at any point, just tell me and I’ll drive you home. You’re not obligated to be here or spend time with me. I don’t want to make you feel awkward. I just wanted to help you cross off some of those points on your list.”

There’s a sincerity to Lucas that is so endearing to me. I only wish I could have met him sooner. His chocolate eyes are mesmerizing as they stare into mine and I feel like we’re having a moment. I watch as he drags his teeth over the silver ring in his bottom lip and it curls when he notices I'm focused on it.

“Do you have any more piercings?” I ask, not even meaning to. It was the first thing that popped into my head and now I’m having a hard time dragging my attention away from his mouth.

“No, just this one. What about you?” Ugh, well that just put a damper on the nipple-piercing images flashing through my mind.

“My ears are pierced, but that’s it. I have a tattoo, though. Do you have any?” He looks like the type of guy who would have a tattoo. Maybe some sort of tribal art over his shoulders and down his back.
Yum.

“You have a tattoo? Nah, I’m gonna call bullshit. You look far too straight-laced. And yeah, I have one I got about two years ago,”

“I do too have a tattoo. I’ll make you a deal. You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

“Why do I feel like I'm at a weird show-and-tell all of a sudden?” He chuckles before pulling his shirt up to uncover his smooth tanned skin. As I suspected, there’s literally not an ounce of fat on him. My eyes roam the dips and piques of his abs all the way up to the tattoo above his heart. It’s in thin black script, and I move closer so I can read it.

Work for a cause, not for applause. Live life to express, not to impress. Don’t strive to make your presence noticed, just make your absence felt.

“Nice.” I nod in approval of not just the words, but everything else I’m looking at.

He pulls his shirt back into place and gives me a wicked smile. “I do believe it’s your turn now.” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully and rubs his hands together as he shifts, pretending to make himself comfy. I wrack my brain, trying to remember what bra I'm wearing, but I draw a blank. I just hope to hell that I'm not wearing my favorite, which used to be white, but now is a depressing shade of grey. It probably should be gracing the bottom of a trashcan but I keep it because it’s just so damn comfy.

I pull the side of my sweater up to just below the purple lace of one of my nicer bras, displaying the tree tattoo.

“It’s supposed to represent the circle of life. You know, how it goes on,” I offer, unexpectedly feeling like I need to justify it.

“It’s nice.” He coughs, clearing his throat, and repeats it again with a clear, less gruff tone.

“Thanks.”
Okay, this just got weird.

“This is weird, isn’t it?”

“Yes! Oh my god, I was just thinking that.”

“You know, it might help if you pull your sweater back down.” He smirks and I feel my blush spread like a forest fire across my chest and up my neck.

Why the fuck am I still holding my top up? Idiot.
I pull it down, but can’t hold a straight face, and apparently, neither can Lucas.

“ARE YOU COLD?” His breath fans across my face. He’s leaning in close, resting on one of his elbows.

I'm staring at the millions of stars that I feel like have come out just for me tonight. I stay fixed in place, fascinated by the stillness above me. “A little, I suppose. Not too bad.”

“Here.”

He drags over another blanket and cocoons me in it. I'm fighting the urge to smile. He’s attentive and sweet; as attracted as I am to him physically, he’s winning me over mentally, too.

“What?”

“What?”

“You’re pulling a strange face. Do you want to head back inside?”

“No!” I don’t mean to shout it so loud, but without any other noise to compete with, it tears through the atmosphere like a sonic boom.

“Wow, chill. I was just checking,” he says as he buries himself down into the covers and mirrors my position, facing the heavens. It’s quiet for a few beats before I hear him sigh. I'm pretty sure he’s working up to saying something.

“Are you scared?”

I know what he’s asking as I close my eyes and really think about my answer.

“Yes. Not of the actual dying part. I know that’s not going to be nice, don’t get me wrong, but that’s not what’s been keeping me up at night. I’m scared of that being it. What if there's no heaven? Or rebirth? It can’t be just fade to black and then that’s it, can it?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, our bodies are going to stop working and shut down, but what happens to our souls? There’s no physical part of us that
is
our soul, so there must be somewhere they go.”

“I like the thought of that,” I murmur.

It’s peaceful for a long time after that. Nothing interrupts the tranquility until his hand moves slowly under our blankets, in search of mine. He laces our fingers together and it’s possibly the simplest and most intimate moment I’ve ever shared. I never want it to end. I can feel the heat of his thumb rubbing along the top of my own as I close my eyes tight, but it’s too late. The cool night air freezes the damp trail the traitorous lone tear leaves down the side of my face. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything, and it makes me like him that much more.

“I can’t get your list out of my mind.” It’s barely audible, like he’s not sure whether it’s okay to be mentioning it or not.