Put Me Back Together(36)

“Except Lucas is a man-whore who can’t be trusted,” I reminded her. “You’re the one who told me that, remember?”

“I once saw him go into a room with a girl at a party—I’m guessing to sleep with her—and then later go into another room with another girl—I’m guessing to sleep with her, too,” Anita piped up. “Then he went home with my friend Gretchen’s sister, but they didn’t sleep together. They just made out.”

“What?” I cried.

Emily half-sat up and glared at Anita. “Do you want to get the pillow again?” she threatened.

“What?” Anita answered, not the least bit intimidated. “He is a man-whore. Everyone’s heard the stories about Lucas. He’s done half the girls on campus, and probably most of the townies, too. Girls fall at his feet wherever he goes, and they always come back for more. That insane brawl in the cafeteria last year where one girl got a hunk of her hair pulled out and the other lost a tooth? That fight was over Lucas. Katie should know what she’s up against.”

I seriously felt like I was going to be sick.

“What if he tries to take me into a room?” I said. The idea was simultaneously enthralling and horrifying.

“Then you only go in if you want to,” Emily replied.

“What if he doesn’t try to take me into a room?” I said.

“Then you call me from the bathroom, where you’ll be hiding,” Emily said. Though I resented it, this was an accurate statement.

“What if he goes into a room with another girl?” I said.

“He invited you, Katie, didn’t he?” Anita said. “That means something. Even if he used to be a slut, he has good taste now. Maybe he’s changed.”

“Maybe he’ll surprise you,” Emily agreed.

“What if he leaves me alone?” I said, turning my head to the side so I was staring at the side of my sister’s face, a face that looked so much like my own and yet, not at all.

I saw Em stiffen. She knew what I was referring to. When she turned to face me, her expression was more serious than it had been all evening.

She said, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t.”



An hour later I was sitting on a bench outside Ban Righ Hall waiting for Lucas, feeling a little less like I was going to throw up and a little more like I might live through the night, though I wasn’t positive about it. It was a mild night for early March, and I didn’t really need the gloves I was wearing but I kept them on anyway. They stopped me from twisting my fingers, which I desperately wanted to do right then. In the end the girls had said the clothes I was wearing were unacceptable, and after a near-fight with Emily over her insistence that I wear her red halter, I’d settled on a cute teal-coloured dress of Anita’s, a pair of patterned tights, and Em’s calf-length suede boots, proffered to me in a moment of real sisterly selflessness—which was only slightly ruined by her telling me that if I stained them she would stab me to death with one of my paint brushes. They’d piled my hair on top of my head and secured it there with a pair of black lacquered chopsticks. I’d even let them put a little makeup on me.


I looked good and that made me feel strong. What I liked even more about it was that I looked just slightly like someone other than myself, which made me feel like someone other than myself, which was a good thing. Maybe this other me could get through a university party in one piece. She was the one who’d gotten us into this mess in the first place, clearly, since I hadn’t been the one to agree to go to this party with Lucas. That was all her.

Lucas and I had gotten into a nice routine lately almost without my being aware of it. The Monday after our stay-in lunch he’d asked me if I wanted to grab some food after art class and I’d agreed, mostly because I was hungry and I’d come to realize that Lucas knew all the best cheap places to eat. We’d gotten poutine at Earl’s Kitchen and then he’d walked me back to my apartment. And then we’d done the same the next day after working in the studio, and then again on Thursday.

He didn’t mention the sketches or the moment we’d had outside my apartment, though several times it seemed like he wanted to. He seemed to be waiting for some kind of cue from me. But I was happy just to leave things as they were, the two of us buddies—although I had to admit he seemed to take every opportunity to touch me that he possibly could—our banter light even if our gazes were heavy. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t exactly easy to sit across from him watching him eat a taco in the messiest possible way and not lunge over the table and kiss him. Actually, it was pretty much agony. But nothing had changed. He was still a player. I still didn’t need a boyfriend, or a hookup, or a whatever. Having Lucas as my friend was a big enough change for now. It was a bigger change than I’d ever thought I would make—that was for sure. I didn’t need more right now. I needed strong and stable, and that was Lucas. I needed comfortable, and somehow that was him, too. I was getting used to him.

So when he asked me if I wanted to go with him to a party Friday night, I heard myself giving the comfortable answer, the answer I’d been giving him all week. I heard the casual, “Sure, sounds good,” flowing off my tongue, and I wondered who the heck I had become.

Who was this new Katie, friends with Lucas Matthews, going to games with him, and sharing fries with him and letting him take her to parties?