Chapter 28
***
The meeting with Hershey's went great. They were stoked about the lava cake direction and agreed to move forward. I email Grant to tell him the good news. At this rate, I think I might have the VP position in the bag!
I text Miguel right after and get his social media information. Now I'm on his Instagram picture from six years ago, analyzing every hashtag and caption. Why do guys suck at selfies?
Aside from working at the front desk - which is temporary, because he just moved from Brazil - Miguel is a personal body trainer and a fitness nerd. Meaning, he counts his macros and programs his exercises. He could totally speak spreadsheets to me.
There are tutorial videos of him showing how to do bicep curls or pull-ups or whatever. I've spent most of the car ride marveling at them.
Lucas hasn't said a word. I haven't really looked at him. The silence is intense.
When we park, he gets out and slams the door. Then he heads inside, not even looking back. Well damn, that sort of hurts. But I suppose... he expected me to stick around tonight?
I noticed bottles of wine in the kitchen when making coffee with Fiona, so I head straight there to calm my nerves. I twist the cap of a white wine bottle and pour myself a glass.
By the time I'm halfway done, Lucas storms out of his room - in black swim trunks and a furious face. He slides the glass doors open and heads straight to the beach.
Doesn't even look at me, doesn't say a word. I stare after him, half hurt and half ogling. His tense shoulders subtly sway side to side and his strong calves flex with each step in the sand.
I pour myself another glass without looking away as he dives in the water. Is he trying to swim away? So melodramatic.
The waves aren't even friendly. It's past 5:30 PM and I can hardly see his brown hair from the foams that seem to only get bigger.
Should I go after him? I don't even know how to swim. Fuck. That would be bad. But he's a Marine. He won't drown. Not unintentionally.
I send a quick prayer to God to keep Lucas safe and go to take a shower. Unraveling my own towel from my bag, I wrap it around myself and carry the toiletries to the bathroom. Time for a grooming ritual of exfoliation, shaving, and moisturizing.
I turn the shower on and step in. And instantly scream when the freezing water hits.
"Fuck!" I quickly step out. I fumble with the knobs left and right, but the water temperature doesn't change. How the fuck am I supposed to shave without hot water?!
I wrap the towel again and open the door to try the other bathroom.
"Oh, shit." I gasp when Lucas appears in front of me.
His brown hair is damp on his forehead. Water droplets cling to his golden, sculpted skin. His black swim trunks are low on his narrow hips. And he towers over me with a dark glare.
"Why'd you scream." He grumbles, eyes away from my towel-wrapped state.
"The water's cold." I scowl a little. Here I am, so affected by him, and he's not even fazed.
"Move."
I step aside as he walks past me and bends over the tub. The water hits his back and he flinches slightly, but keeps his gaze on the knob, twisting and turning.
"I've done that already." I state. He clenches his jaw and ignores me.
I scoff quietly. "I'm going to go use the other bathroom."
"I'm using the other one."
"Okay, can you use it after me? I'm kind of in a hurry."
Lucas gives up on the knobs and gets up. He ignores me again and walks out. I follow him straight to his own bathroom, expecting him to maybe clear out his things.
Nope. He steps into his bathroom and shuts the door on my face.
Well, then. Alright. Time for another glass.
It's 6:30 PM. I've paced around the house and have snooped in every corner that's none of my business. The fridge is fully stocked with fresh produce and homemade food. The family pictures are endless. And the supply of extra pillows and blankets would make one think that this is a rental place.
"Lucas, I need to go! Can you hurry?" I knock on the bathroom room - no, I hit it with my palm. "Are you jerking off? You got the whole house for that! Lucas!"
The door opens and steam pours out of it. Lucas has his hips wrapped with a white towel, smelling fresh, looking smooth. His wet hair is swept back and his cheeks are flushed a little.
"All yours." He says, almost mocking. I glare and slam the door behind me as he leaves.
In the shower, I inspect all his products. Body wash, shampoo... that's it.
Where's the loofah? No conditioner? Is this guy a caveman?
I open each one and smell them. The guy does have taste. These are heavenly bottles of manliness. If I buy these and use them on myself, it'll almost feel like I have a boyfriend.
Wow, I'm pathetic.
I do my business and get out to go to my room. It's 7. I text Miguel the address to this place and he tells me he'll be here exactly at 8.
"Do you want something to eat?" Lucas taps on my open door as I apply face serums. He's changed into black shorts with a matching sleeveless shirt. I'm still in a towel, hair damp.
"No, thanks." I say, eyes on the mirror. When he doesn't say a word, I sneak a glance. "I'm going out... to eat?"
"Sure you are."
"Is there a problem?"
He takes a deep breath and stares right into me. "You don't know the guy. It's not safe."
I lean on the dresser, facing him. I tilt my head. "Do I look stupid to you?"
"Yes."
Anger burns through me and I'm about to snap, but he cuts me off. "If you're going out with a guy you just met in a town you've never been to before, you're stupid. What do you want me to say?"
I cross my arms, chuckling. "You could just respect me as an adult, you know? Unless you think I'm not capable of handling myself?"
"Can you?" He raises an eyebrow, eyes skeptical. "Didn't seem like it in New York."
"Yes, because I was with you."
"So?"
"So it's different with you." I blurt. My heart shakes. What did I just say?
"What do you mean it's different with me." His tone shifts to curious. He paces towards me.
I try to control my breathing. "I just mean I know you. I was more free around you." He stands in front of me. I do my best to stay firm. "I'm not the same around the people I just met. I have my guard up."
"You took a girl to your hotel room." He deadpans.
"It's not the same!"
He puts his hand on the dresser beside me. "How is it not the same, Layla?"
I shake my head. "You're not in a position to patronize me."
"I'm not patronizing you. I'm worried."
"Yeah?" I smile, stepping a little closer. "You're worried about me?" His jaw clenches at my tone. "Why are you worried? What am I to you?"
"What are you to me?" He repeats, his voice gravely. I gulp, gritting my teeth to stay firm.
Lucas drifts his gaze to my body. I'm sure my chest is red, even though my spine is tense to the point of trembling. The wine didn't do shit.
"Get dressed." He mutters and turns around. He leaves me in the room, more confused than before.
I guess I'm nothing to him. The hope that he might've said something to remedy the situation waters my eyes. I clench my fists.
He's wrong. I'm not playing games with him. I'm playing games with myself.
Trying to prove that he might feel something towards me. That he might care enough to not let me go. To push through whatever is weighing him down and tell me I mean more to him than just being a colleague. He just proved me wrong.
I decide that I will go out and I will do everything possible to get him off my mind. He's not the only guy that can get me shaken up, that can get me weak. I will force myself to like Miguel if I have to.
Opening my closet, I choose a blue mini dress. The straps tie into knots at the shoulders, the neckline is straight, and the skirt finishes a few inches below my butt. I wear white lace undies and nude strappy heels, line my eyes, curl my hair into loose waves.
When I step outside to get water, Lucas is watching TV, not paying attention. I open the fridge and get a bottle of cold water when the TV turns off and silence fills the room.
I don't have to turn to know that Lucas is right behind me. To be honest, I'm scared and too nervous to face him. So I buy myself some time by opening the bottle and taking a sip.
"You're wearing that?" He asks over my shoulder. Ha. Thanks for pissing me off. Now it's easier to focus.
I turn around more confidently. "You like it?"
He sucks in a sharp breath with slightly wide eyes then drops his gaze to my dress.
"It's too revealing."
"Are you dumb?"
He stares all seriously and I bark out a laugh. "It's too revealing? That's what you have to say?"
He tears through his hair with a deep breath, then runs his hand down his jaw. His throat bobs as he swallows.
"You're not leaving." He says quietly.
I scoff. "The hell I'm not."
He meets my eyes, and they're hauntingly calm. "You're not leaving."
My pulse quickens. "You don't tell me what to do."
He takes a step closer, backing me against the fridge. "I am telling you. You're. Not. Leaving."
"And I'm telling you... fuck. Off." I glare up, though my voice is not as harsh.
Lucas wets his lower lip and pulls it in his mouth. My heart hammers and I press against the fridge for support.
"You don't want to go." He murmurs. Smugness flashes in his eyes.
I narrow my glare and step aside to slip past him. He puts his hand on the fridge beside me and cages me in.
"Let me go." I grit.
"Why? Do you really want to go?"
"Yes." My voice breaks. Wow, so convincing. Bravo.
Lucas cups my chin with his large hand and makes me look at him. "Tell me you want to go."
My insides start to melt into a puddle and every inch wants to lean into him. It makes me hate myself. I want to shove him away and be shoved against him.
"I want to want to go." I say quietly.
"Why?" He says with the same tone, still holding my face. He puts his other hand on my hip, pulling me close. My body throbs from the contact, my lips part.
"Because you don't give me what I want."
"What do you want?" He leans closer.
"Lucas... " I look down and try to pull away.
"Tell me what you want."
I shake my head. I push him away harder and he lets go, stepping back.
"If I have to tell you, then that's the problem." I walk back to my room as tears start to fall. He doesn't follow, which is both good and bad.
It's 7:50 and Miguel texts that he's two minutes away. I grab my purse, fix the smeared mascara around the corners of my eyes and look at myself in the mirror.
You can do this. Don't be a victim. Don't be weak. Don't be pathetic.
If he doesn't want you then he doesn't want you.
It's better this way. It should've never come to this point.
This is good. This is how it should be. In the long run, I'll be glad.
With final determination, I step outside. Lucas is sitting on the dining table, staring into nothing.
"Are you going to fuck him?" He asks, making me freeze.
"What?" I whisper in disbelief.
He lifts his dark lashes and glares. "Are you... going to fuck him."
Who the hell does he think he is... honestly. Messing with me like this...
I slowly approach and get so close that he leans back to look up at me. My knees touch his knees as I stand, leaning on the dining table.
"Don't worry." I tilt my head and slowly murmur. "If I fuck him, I'll use a safe word."
His nostrils flair slightly, but he doesn't say a word. He doesn't even move. I bite my lip.
"I think I'll use... the word blue." I let the corners of my lips arc, my eyes stay cold. "If it makes you feel better though, I'll text after the date to let you know if I'm coming back or not. And don't worry, I'll Uber back to LA."
Someone knocks on the front door and my heart drops to my stomach with dread. I really don't want to go.
"My date's here." I mumble and turn away. Lucas grabs my hips and stops me.
"Don't go." He looks up, his eyes soften. His fingers rub circles around my hips. It makes my knees almost buckle.
"Why not?" I frown, standing still.
The door knocks again. Lucas sighs and lets me go. I take a deep breath to loosen the lump in my throat and walk to the door. Everything will be okay. I'll forget about this.
I pause when I stand in front of the door. Miguel is right behind it. I can just open the door and leave. I can forget about this drama, my twisted feelings, this heartache that doesn't even have the right to be there. This ache right here should already be a red flag to leave!
My phone rings with Miguel's ID. Who is this clingy fuck. We just met!
No. No. This is what I need. I need someone who shows me he wants me. Who proves it. Who acts accordingly. Fuck, I don't want games and here I am playing them!
"Layla..." Lucas says behind me and my body flinches a little. "Layla." He says again, this time with urgency.
I turn around and he's also twisted with so much conflict. Something's eating at him and he's not letting me in. Not letting himself in. I remember Fiona's words about pushing him, helping him. Well, how am I helping him? This hurts. This hurts me and it hurts him.
"Why are you leaving?" He searches my eyes with one last fight. I know that this is it.
"Because you're letting, Lucas." I whisper, knowing that all the vulnerability and fear he makes me feel are in my eyes. Open to him. Take it or leave it. This is what I come with.
"Don't let me." I cross my arms and shrug a single shoulder. Show me what you got, Lucas.
The door knocks more urgently.
Lucas looks at me.
His hand flies to my mouth and I'm shoved against the wall behind the door.
His other hand opens it, hiding me.
"She's not coming." He clips.
"Oh... is she okay?" Miguel stammers from the other side.
"More than okay. She's with me."
He shuts the door. Hand still on my mouth. Pressing me against the wall.
He looks at me.
~ A/N ~
OOOOOOH!!!!!!!!! WHO'S EXCITED?!