Put Me Back Together(27)

I glared up at him as we reached his car, a battered red Civic with a big dent in the passenger’s side door.

“I definitely think so,” I said with more confidence than I was actually feeling as he let go of my arm and stepped toward me, causing me to lean back against the door.

I saw a twinkle in his eyes as he moved forward, placing his hands against the car window on either side of my body. I felt my breath catch in my throat and a thrill rise up from my belly as the front of our coats brushed against each other and he leaned in.

“That’s good,” he said into my ear, my cheek growing warm just from the knowledge that his was centimeters away. I could hear the smile in his voice. “Because I wouldn’t want there to be any confusion.”

He pulled his face back and looked me in the eye. Our faces were lined up perfectly for a kiss, and I felt my body betraying me, my face moving toward his without my permission, my senses awakening with something new.

Desire.

My lips trembled, though I tried to still them. As much as I wanted him, I was also terribly afraid. This wouldn’t be just any kiss. It would be my first.

I held my breath, waiting, as his eyes dipped to my lips and then his face changed, his eyes zipping back up to mine with a question in them that I couldn’t read. Suddenly he was all business and movement. He pulled me toward him—more like a jerk, really—and yanked the car door open, then ran his hands roughly up and down my arms, as one would a child who had stayed out too long playing in the snow.

“Cold, isn’t it?” he said with forced enthusiasm, and gestured for me to get in as he ran around to the driver’s side.

“Sure is,” I replied as I climbed in and buckled my seat belt. I was still in a little bit of shock, all my emotions jumbled and jumping and disorderly.

As he drove us toward the Athletics Centre, keeping his eyes firmly glued to the road, I tried to console myself with the fact that I’d been right. Lucas and I were just friends. Because when he’d had his chance, he’d come this close and changed his mind. It was a good thing I’d put the kibosh on the whole boyfriend idea that morning. It was smart of me, really. Wasn’t I so clever? Wasn’t it so wonderful to be right?

Except that it wasn’t.

Being right had never felt so awful.



The gym was crowded and bright and loud. Having never been to a game, any game, before, I hadn’t known what to expect, but the noise was the biggest surprise. I wondered how the players could stand it. I thought to ask Lucas, but I didn’t much feel like talking to him right then, and he didn’t look like he was up for a discussion, either. In fact, he looked downright ill.

“Hold on a minute,” he said as we walked through the gym doors. They were the first words he’d spoken since our moment by the car.

He’d stopped in his tracks just inside the doorway, and as I walked back toward him I saw him swallowing hard, as though he was trying to get down a particularly large pill.

“You’re not going to throw up, do you hear me?” I said as I pulled him toward the bleachers. In the short ten minutes it had taken us to drive here and walk into the building, the awful feeling inside me had morphed into a simmering rage that I didn’t question or examine in any way. I was certainly in no mood to rub his back as he hurled.

It seemed like we were a little late after all, because the game had already started and the bleachers were full. Lucas held back, keeping himself out of sight of the crowd as I scanned the stands for two seats together, finally spotting them on the left side near the top. Looking over at Lucas again, I found him staring intently at the floor. He seemed to be doing everything he could not to glance at the game itself.

“Snap out of it,” I said, clapping my hands in front of his face. “You’re fine. It’s fine. Come on, let’s go.” I grabbed him none too gently by the sleeve.

Apparently rage turned me into the type of person who barked orders and was obeyed, because he didn’t resist. Or maybe he was just so out of it that following me was all he could handle. Whatever the reason, we were about halfway up the bleachers and I was still towing him by the arm when I realized everybody around us was looking our way. I faltered on the stairs, jarred by all those eyes, but Lucas didn’t skip a beat. He swiftly passed me, his head bowed and hands plunged into his pockets, and reached the seats I’d been aiming for a full minute before I got there.

I let out a slow sigh as most of the heads turned back to the game, though I did notice a few girls still staring.

We might not actually be on a date, but every person within a twenty-foot radius definitely thought we were.

Just perfect.

To distract myself from the realization that my first friendly activity with Lucas had been such a colossally bad choice, I fiddled with my bag, pulling out what we would need to get through the game. Then I turned to Lucas, still chock full of fury—because, of course, all of this was entirely his fault—until I took in what was happening to him.

He was sitting in his seat with his back straight as a board and his eyes closed, his hands curled into fists on his thighs, his mouth clenched closed so tightly that I could see the muscles in his jaw bulging. He was breathing hard through his nose—too hard. He looked like he was about to explode.

“I can’t be here,” he hissed through his teeth. “I have to get out of here. I have to go, now.”