Put Me Back Together(40)

“Got it,” I said weakly.

And then he leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.

My hands were trembling as I slipped off the counter, my cheek stinging in the exact spot where he’d placed his lips. I glanced around quickly to see if anyone had noticed the mind-altering moment we’d just shared but nobody was looking at us. The party had gone on around us while we’d been in our little teepee and nobody seemed to care about what Lucas had been saying to me. It seemed incredible.

Lucas’s cell buzzed and he slipped it out of his pocket to check the text. He shook his head as he placed it back in his pocket.

“One more thing,” he said, slinging an arm around my shoulder.

“Anything,” I said. Wow, I’d really drunk the Lucas Kool-Aid.

“Can you ask your sister to stop threatening to cut off my balls if I don’t treat you right?”

“What?” I cried out in alarm, grabbing for the phone in the front pocket of his shirt. He covered it with his fingers. “Did she really write that? I don’t even know how she got your number. Oh my God!”

“It’s okay, I understand,” Lucas said. “It’s natural for her to be overprotective when her sister’s out on her first date ever.”

I literally felt all the blood drain out of my face. “She said what?” I said, though I wasn’t sure it even came out. I might have just been silently mouthing it like a goldfish that had been flung out of its bowl, its little fishy lips opening and closing as it died. Because that was exactly what this felt like. Slow and painful death.

Lucas’s eyes were full of mirth as I worked overtime to salvage my dignity.

“Emily is deranged, okay? She says these things just to mess with me and you, because you’re a guy, and she likes to tell lies and create chaos where guys are involved,” I prattled. “I’ve been on plenty of dates. Lots of dates. I just can’t say no. It’s a real problem. Just because I don’t post pics of my bad dates on Facebook doesn’t mean they didn’t happen. I can’t even tell you the number of times I—”

“Katie!” Lucas said all of a sudden, jarring me out of my monologue. “I’m pretty sure she just meant your first date with me.”

“Oh, right,” I said, biting at my bottom lip, hoping he’d ignore the heap of lies I’d just emptied on his head. “Wait, so…does that mean…I mean…did you want this to be…”

I looked at him hopelessly. Was he really going to make me ask if we were on a date?

“Let’s avoid labels for the time being. I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” he said diplomatically, steering me toward the keg.

I couldn’t help but feel a little let down. Not that I wanted this to be a date. Except that I kind of did.

As we stood waiting for our turn, Lucas standing behind me, he put his chin on my shoulder and whispered into my ear, “But for the record, if it was up to me, this night would have the label of ‘date’ all over it. I have one of those label makers. It’s very high-tech. I’d make a label that says ‘Lucas and Katie’s first date’ and make us both wear them as nametags. I just wanted to make sure we were clear on that.”


I beamed as I drank down my cup of mostly warm beer. I’d never tasted anything better in my whole life.

For the next half hour, Lucas and I crept around the periphery of the party. His hand remained planted on my lower back and he was very attentive, always grabbing me a seat and giving me most of his attention, which didn’t seem to be entirely for my benefit. Though coming to the party had been his idea, he didn’t seem ready to participate in it fully, happy to chat with me about our final assignment for art class instead of playing beer pong. A dance floor erupted in the middle of the living room and I was glad to find he didn’t want to drag me onto it. He didn’t even really seem to want to talk to anyone. I noticed him trying to end every conversation as soon as it began, even one with his roommate Eric, who I wouldn’t have minded chatting with a little longer; he looked a little like Ryan Gosling.

We were talking about maybe cutting out of the party early and getting some ice cream—be still, my beating heart—when a familiar girl came up and nudged Lucas with her hip. I couldn’t help but stare as Lucas smiled widely at the sight of her, set down his beer, and picked her up in an Oleg-style bear hug.

“I’m so glad to see you,” Lucas said, and I could tell he genuinely was. His eyes brightened when he looked at her in a way they hadn’t all night.

As he set the girl back down on her feet, she giggled and tossed her long hair over her shoulder.

It was the girl with the blonde hair, the one I’d seen sitting on the bench with Lucas, the one who’d been so angry with him and whose cheek he’d touched.

My stomach sunk like a rock-filled rowboat.

I didn’t know exactly where to look. Watching Lucas’s absorption in this girl was like pushing razors into my eyes, but at the same time I couldn’t look away. A part of me seemed to feel that I deserved this punishment for thinking I could judge a guy’s character, that I could trust a word Lothario Lucas said to me. I’d always been a terrible judge of character, that’s what had gotten me into all that trouble when I was younger. Guys were always liars, and I was always so eager to believe them—that was my weakness, that was why it was so much better to be alone. At least I didn’t come out looking like I’d been duped. At least alone I still had my pride.