Never (8 page)

This was how he felt—and it sucked.

Chapter Nine: Lucas

"I don't believe it," Dean said with the most serious expression I'd ever seen on his face.

That wasn't saying much since he was a drama major and hands down the most dramatic guy I'd ever met. Girls dug that dark intensity thing, but it got annoying when one of your boys acted like our favorite team losing the game was a human tragedy and was always trying to talk us into some heavy handed indie flick when the rest of us wanted to check out the latest comedy at the movies.

I ignored him and shot Blake a look over my Ray Bans. "Whatever man."

"Nah," Dean said solemnly, slowing to a complete stop. He glanced around before dropping his volume to a confidential level. "This is serious. The guy who swore that he'd rather chew off his arm then be serious with a girl is practically married."

"Whipped is a better word," Blake cackled, eating it up. I was surprised he waited until morning to tell someone about what happened last night. "Girls were all but stripping down in front of us. I look away for one second and he was gone, texting me that he wasn't feeling good."

Dean stroked his chin pensively, but the playful lilt in his voice gave him away. "Well, that explains it. His tummy wummy hurt."

They laughed at my expense and I just groaned and picked up speed toward the foreign language building. It would have been even stranger if they didn't give me a hard time.

I'd known both of them since freshman year and they knew my patterns. It wasn't a night out if I wasn't walking away with some girl (or girls)—and they didn't do too shabby themselves. None of us spent the night alone unless we wanted to.

I was just glad Blake hadn't seen what went down between me and Candi. We mutually agreed that she was a little crazy, but Blake was infamous for looking past mental instability for a good lay. Even though everyone knew that Candi Mann was certifiable, her reputation between the sheets were legendary.

I cleared my throat and erased the unwelcome image of Candi staring at me with the playful smirk. Another memory blurred the erotic one: the insane gleam in her eyes when I said I was leaving.

"Don't you two have class on the other side of the campus?" I snapped, ignoring the shudder that rippled through me. I just wanted to get to class and forget all about last night and the huge mistake I'd almost made.

"This conversation is way more interesting than anything I'll learn I'm stagecraft," Dean grinned.

I didn't say another word, plowing forward. The only thing that kept my blood from a full on boil was the fact that I knew they didn't realize how serious I was about Juliet.

I knew this was weird for them. They didn't know about me and Juliet's history. To them, I'd seemingly changed my stripes overnight. So they made jokes. They were just waiting for me to wake up and go back to the way things were.

It still didn't make it any easier to swallow.

"Hey Lucas, wait up!"

I didn't slow down, focusing on my destination, until I saw the guy standing against a lamp post near the library. He was ridiculously tall, but that wasn't the reason I paused. There was something familiar about him. When a girl walked up to him and a lazy smile crept across his face, it sent a white hot current of anger through me.

He wore the same disarming smile in the picture Candi showed me—and he'd been flashing it where it didn't belong.

At Juliet.

I had tunnel vision, everything but the prick's face blurring. All the frustration I'd felt over the past week was his fault. It all went back to him. He looked like somebody beat him down with a hipster stick. Shaggy, oily looking blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail. A
ponytail
. The dude had a hoodie and a scarf on for fuck's sake. The closer I got I could tell the girl was eating it up with her little giggles and the way she flipped her hair, face flushed pink. I recognized her from somewhere.

Blake was huffing behind me and even though he was panting, his dread still came through loud and clear. "Carmen."

I narrowed my eyes. That's where I knew her from. Carmen Diaz, one of the few girls that Blake let under his skin. Unfortunately for her, he still didn't like her enough to stay monogamous for longer than a heartbeat. He'd ultimately dodged a bullet because he woke up the morning after cheating on her with all four tires slashed.

"...and Dr. Suarez is just driving me completely insane!" Carmen pouted, not even noticing us. "I feel like every class I'm hoping she's sick or decides to go on sabbatical. I just feel like we would learn so much more from you, Lance."

The guy had the nerve to blush like he wasn't enjoying every second of it. "Carmen—"

I stopped right behind them, battling the urge to wipe that coy little smile right off his face. "Carmen, why don't you get off your knees for a few minutes so me and the good TA can have a conversation."

Carmen whipped around, her thick, ebony hair almost slapping me in the face. From the angry set of her jaw she was clearly ready to tell me off until she saw my face—and looked behind me to Blake.

Her mouth was an O that she spread into a ‘Whatever’ before she stomped off in the opposite direction.

Lance wasn't amused. His eyes hardened. "You can't talk to her like that."

"Don't worry," I sneered. "That whole thing just endeared you to her even more. I know how you like to play savior to all the girls around here. Helping them with their books and assignments."

He arched an eyebrow. "Who are you?"

"Lucas McNamara," I growled, puffing my chest out. If I was expecting his demeanor to change at my name, I was disappointed.

"Who?" he said, arching an eyebrow in bemusement.

"I'm Juliet's boyfriend," I said, nostrils flaring.

His jaw twitched with recognition. "Okay. What can I do for you?"

"You can stay the hell away from her," I said, stepping closer. Eye to eye. "I don't want to hear about you talking to her, touching her—"

"Hold up," Lance cut in, face tensing. "I'm not sure where this is coming from—"

"I'm not one of your students," I said darkly. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. This our first and last conversation."

"Look man—"

I moved closer, my balled fist itching. All the emotions I'd felt when I saw the picture were back with a vengeance. If he said another word...

"Lucas." I felt Dean's hand on my shoulder. "Just walk away."

I shrugged him off, not backing down. Most of the lessons my father tried to teach me rolled right off my back. But there was one that sprung to mind as I glared at this asshole.

Find the biggest, baddest person in the room and bring him to his knees. If you don't make people fear you, they'll walk all over you.

"Do we have an understanding?" I said, teeth grit.

I could tell he was spoiling to go at it and as lanky as he seemed, he could hold his own.

I stared him down, ready when he was. He just nodded and marched away from the confrontation, leaving me there, chest heaving up and down.

Blake and Dean stepped in front of me, both eyeing me warily.

"What was that about?" Blake asked gingerly. "Who was that guy?"

"Nothing," I lied, shifting my backpack and trying to calm down. "I've gotta get to class."

"That didn't sound like nothing," Dean piped. "You looked ready to slam your fist into his face." He cleared his throat, putting a little distance between us when he saw I still looked like I wanted to punch something. Someone.

"Holy shit," Blake breathed a few feet behind me. "This is about her isn't it? This whole thing has Juliet written all over it."

"Just drop it."

He snorted, getting his answer. "Are you serious? I'm saying this as a friend. You said she’s good for you, but ever since she’s been in the picture, you’ve been an asshole. That girl—"

"Is none of your business!" I whirled to face him, gripping the front of his shirt in my fist. "If you ever even say her name again, I'm going to kick your ass. No questions asked. No warning."

He held up his hands, genuine fear on his face. I released him and continued on my way. I knew they weren't following, which was probably a wise decision. I said they didn't get what she meant to me, but they were starting to get an idea. I was willing to deck a TA for her. I was willing to ruin a friendship for her.

I tried to focus on something, anything other than the confusing emotions raging in me. I couldn't get a handle on it and what Blake said screwed in my ears, rising above everything else.

You said she's good for you, but ever since she's been in the picture, you've been an asshole.

I avoided my friends, I was a dick to my sister, I nearly punched some guy in the jaw—hell, I'd nearly punched my best friend in the jaw! But this wasn't on Juliet. This was all me. Anger was the default. Defensiveness. And there was something beneath all of it, something I'd never say aloud.

I was afraid.

Afraid of losing Juliet.

Afraid of losing my friends.

Afraid that there was no fixing things with my mother, because there wasn't much left to fix.

I paused in front of the foreign language building. I was still breathing. The world was still turning. Admitting that I was vulnerable, terrified, didn't make the world stop. Everything kept turning, beating, whirring. The Man Police didn't spring from the bushes, ready to drag me off for showing emotion. For showing weakness.

I inhaled. Exhaled. I felt like a weight had been lifted from my chest—and I knew exactly what I needed to do.

I pulled my phone from my back pocket and pulled up Juliet’s number.

"Lucas," she began, her voice wary and edged with sleep. "It's bad enough that you're calling when you know this is the only day I can sleep in, but I told you—"

"I know," I cut her off. "And I'm sorry, but this is important. Just give me a minute."

She let out a groan, but she didn't hang up.

"I realized something," I said, moving to a bench near the door, zoning out everything except our conversation. "I'm a pussy when it comes to you."

"Excuse me?"

"I can't lose you," I clarified, fighting the part of me that didn't want to pull back the curtain. "Not again. So to stop that from happening, I doubled down. I overreacted and sabotaged myself. Instead of talking to you, trusting you, I lashed out at you. And I...I'm so sorry, Juliet. I don't want to be a coward. Or a jerk. I just want to be with you." I paused and added, "And I want to have this conversation face to face."

The line went silent and I was sure she was probably thinking up all the reasons that was a bad idea. But I heard a rustling, like she was repositioning herself.

The suspense was killing me. "So whaddya say?"

It went quiet again, but a single word came through and made me smile.

"Okay."

Chapter Ten: Juliet

I moved closer to the mirror, trying not to think about how close I was to stabbing myself in the eye. Somehow, I managed to swoop the edge of the eyeliner pencil across my bottom lashes without incident. I sat back, inspecting myself. Instead of recoiling in horror or reaching for the wet naps to scrub away my attempt, I didn't look half bad. When I dusted the shimmery bronzer stuff over my lids and cheekbones, I actually pulled off sunkissed and breezy.

"Lemme see!" Kim begged, closing her laptop. She slowly moved her legs over the edge of the bed until I glared at her.

I usually let her do the honors, but it was high time that I learned how to do the basics on my own. I started off small, with just eyeliner, bronzer and lip gloss, plucking out the staples and avoiding the little palettes and eye instruments that looked like mini torture devices. I thought I looked good, but I didn't pretend to be some beauty expert.

I gave my reflection one last once over before I turned to her, wincing. "Does it look terrible?"

She scrunched her nose. "Well, it's hard to tell with the grimace."

I relaxed my features as much as I could. It wasn't like this was just some dinner. This was the dinner after everything got screwed up after our
last
dinner. He'd stood me up then drunkenly accused me of doing something inappropriate with Lance. When I ignored him, he'd drunkenly showed up at my dorm. Come to think of it, there'd been a whole lot of drinking lately and a lot of saying things neither one of us really meant. I'd be lying if I said it was water under the bridge, but we both wanted to make this work.

So I waited for the verdict.

"Am I still banned from getting off the bed?"

"No," I smirked, still not believing she stayed put in the first place. I knew she was itching to grab a brush and help, but it was important for me to do this myself. I wouldn’t always have her waiting in the wings to help me.

She padded over, leaning toward me and flipped my hair over my shoulder. She stood back. I held my breath.

"I'm like a proud mama!”

I snorted at her choice of words, but inside I was so happy that rainbows and butterflies were leaping around in my chest like Pop Rocks. I talked a big game like I could care less about what I looked like on the outside and usually that was true. I had no desire to stockpile magazines and peruse Pinterest to stay up on the latest trends. There were a bajillion things I’d rather be doing than spent time in front of a mirror, poking and prodding myself. But what girl doesn’t want to feel gorgeous every now and then?

I turned back to the mirror propped on my desk, natural heat rivaling the blush in my cheeks. Sure I’d wanted to do something for Lucas, but I realized this was just as much for myself. It felt good to look at myself and think that I looked pretty. Not because my best friend worked her magic and pulled off some miracle, but because with a little swipe here and a dust of powder there, it brought out a natural glow that I missed because I was so busy avoiding the mirror.

“Juliet—are you crying?!”

“No,” I said quickly, focusing on putting up the makeup and not the emotion that was turning me into mush. When I swiped away a tear, there was no use keeping up the charade. “Maybe a little.” When her face rounded in concern, I added, “Happy tears.” When I looked back in the mirror I let out a groan. And now my makeup was streaked with tears. “Great.”