How (Not) to Fall in Love(51)

He appeared next to me and took a box from the stack. Our eyes met, then we both looked away. He still looked furious, but I had no idea why.

I picked up an X-acto knife from the table and sliced through the packing tape holding the box together. It was going to be a long morning if he stayed there with me. “Do you want some coffee?” Liz wouldn’t be opening the store for another couple of hours, but I knew she wouldn’t mind if I let myself in and made us drinks. Maybe caffeine would improve his mood.

He shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know.” He focused on the box, not looking at me.

What was his damage?

I finished disassembling the box, then collapsed it and started a pile. I’d tape them back together at home. As I sliced through the tape on another box, I wondered what I could say to shake Lucas out of his black mood. I thought of the movie I’d watched last night.

“‘Your girl is lovely, Hubbell,’” I quoted.

He looked up from the collapsed box he was folding. “Who’s Hubbell?”

“It’s a quote from a movie. One of my favorites.”

“What movie?” He wasn’t smiling yet, but he didn’t look quite as angry.

“Just google what I said. You’ll find it.”

“Why not just give me a straight answer?” He frowned and grabbed another box, dismantling it with more energy than necessary.

“Maybe you bring out the worst in me,” I teased. Almost there. I’d get him laughing any minute.

“Whatever,” he said. “I know you’re bringing out the worst in me this morning.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Surprised and hurt, I turned away and focused on another box.

He sighed behind me. “Sorry, Darcy. I’m just…tired. So tell me, what’s the point of your obscure movie quote?”

I turned to face him. Was he dense or what? “‘Your girl is lovely.’ As in, Heather, your girl, is lovely. Spectacular, in fact. You two must have made quite an entrance Friday night.” If this friendship thing was going to work, I had to get comfortable talking about his girlfriend, even as my heart broke just saying her name.

Lucas sighed again and brushed his hair out of his eyes. I’d never seen him like this…wrinkled and disheveled and unshaven. I didn’t think it was possible he could look even sexier than usual.

“I don’t really know what to say to that,” he said. “It’s not like I had anything to do with her looks.” He took the collapsed box I was holding and tossed it on the stack.

I struggled for a funny comeback but didn’t have one, so I spoke my thoughts aloud. “Most guys can only dream of dating someone like Heather. I was paying you a compliment.” I shrugged. “Never mind.”

Lucas grabbed another box and sliced through the tape as if it were his worst enemy. “Most guys aim too low,” he said, so softly I thought maybe he was talking to himself. Then he looked right at me. “Girls like Heather are a dime a dozen.”

I choked out a laugh. “Dime a dozen? Where are you shopping, dude?”

He grabbed his water bottle off a shelf and took a long swig. I watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down, hypnotized. He capped the bottle and leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “Anyway, she’s not my girl.”

I almost sliced right through my finger. I dropped my gaze, focusing very carefully on my cutting. I didn’t dare ask what I wanted most to know. I had to think of something else to say.

“She’s not? Maybe you should let Pickles know. I don’t think she’s a fan.”

Finally he graced me with a laugh. “Pickles has way too many opinions about my personal life. I don’t need to give her any more ammo.”

Some of the tension eased between us. At least it eased out of him and I hoped I faked it.

“Just wait ’til Pickles is older,” I said, taking advantage of the lightened mood. “She won’t approve of anyone you bring home. Ever.”

He threw a flattened box onto the growing pile. “You never know. She might.”

I was dying to know about Heather. This time the words blundered from me before I could stop them. “So…if she’s not your girl, then Homecoming was…?” The question hung in the air for an eternity.

“What those dances always are. Homecoming, prom, all that crap. Overpriced dinner. Dirty dancing. Drunken puking all over my tux and my car.”

“Oh,” I breathed. “I’m sorry, Lucas. That sucks.”

He loomed over me, his expression impossible to read. But any echo of laughter was gone, thanks to my inquisition. Why did I always talk too much around him? His hand grazed mine as he took the box I’d forgotten I was holding. He sliced into it while he spoke. “It wasn’t the first time. That’s why she’s not my girl. But I promised her I’d go to Homecoming a long time ago, and I didn’t want her to end up without a date.”

Like she wouldn’t be able to find another date. I wanted to roll my eyes at him, but restrained myself. I’d already done enough damage.

He tossed the box on the pile and tilted his head. “So, Darcy. How was your weekend? What did you do besides watch sappy movies about guys named Hubbell and their lovely girls?”

A tiny smile quirked his lips. I took it as a peace offering.