Put Me Back Together(5)

“Why did this guy give him to you, again?”

“His name is Lucas,” I said. I ripped open the bag of cat food and poured some into the bowl by my bedside table.

Suddenly, Em sat upright in bed and stared at me. “Lucas who?” she said. “What’s his last name?”


“I don’t know,” I said. “He didn’t tell me.”

“Was he tall, dark brown hair, golden eyes, rippling muscles?” Her eyes were glued to my face. It reminded me of the time in fifth grade when I’d recounted to her how I’d stolen a pair of Christian Lewis’s underwear from his bedroom during Carrie Lewis’s sleepover birthday party. That was before it happened, back when I was adventurous, back when I chose dare instead of truth every time. Back when my sister had been known as “the quiet twin.”

“He was wearing a coat. Well, until he took his shirt off.”

Now I had my sister’s full, undivided attention. She swiveled toward me, pulling her legs under her.

“Was he so gorgeous he made your knees go weak? Did he smile all the time, the hottest smile ever, with this little twinkle in his eye? Come on, tell the truth.”

Yup and yup. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

“Did he have dimples?”

I looked up at Em in surprise—how could she know that?—and her face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Oh my God,” she cried. “Lucas Matthews gave you his cat!”

“It wasn’t his cat! And who the hell is Lucas Matthews?”

She sighed and gave me an exasperated look, the same look I got every time she dropped the name of anyone who went to our school.

She said, “Lucas Matthews—former basketball star and reigning campus hottie. He’s literally the most good-looking guy I’ve ever seen in real life, and that’s saying something.”

I nodded. It really was. Em had seen her share of guys. Unlike me.

“He’s in his second year,” she continued. “He used to be known as a real Lothario. He had a different girl on his arm every week. And believe you me, girls were lining up for the privilege. But then he quit the team last semester, nobody knows why, and since then he’s been totally in hiding. He never comes to any parties anymore. There are literally gangs of girls roaming around campus looking for him. He’s a ghost. And you spotted him.”

Smiling at me gleefully, her hangover apparently forgotten, she clapped her hands. “Go back to the part where he took his shirt off!” she said.

“He didn’t take it all the way off,” I protested. “He just unbuttoned it. It was no big deal.”

I turned away from my sister and moved to the closet, grabbing my purple cardigan and winding a patterned scarf around my neck. All morning I’d been squeezing the events of last night into little boxes labelled “Not Important,” “To Be Forgotten,” and “Funny Things That Happened To Me On The Way To Get Ice Cream.” I hadn’t even planned on telling Emily about what had happened, but then she’d shown up at my door and I’d had to explain the bag of stuff from The Cat Emporium. I didn’t want this to become a big deal. I’d already been planning out how I would ignore Lucas if I happened to see him on the street. I had no intention of talking to him ever again, that was for sure. He knew where I lived. He’d come up to the door of my apartment. He already knew way too much about me. Just the thought of it made me feel nauseous. I wanted to pretend like last night had never happened.

And now my sister was looking at me with gossip eyes because apparently he was Mr. Most Wanted on campus. This was going to become a thing.

I closed my eyes and gripped the closet door.

I didn’t want to be known as the girl Lucas Matthews gave a cat to. I just wanted to be invisible.

“I have class,” I said breezily. I grabbed my bag off the floor and left the room to go find my jacket, Em close on my heels. “And so do you.”

She stood in my living room with her arms crossed over her white tank top—actually it was my white tank top. “You like him, don’t you?”

I made a sound that was a mix of a snort and a guffaw. “I barely know him. I talked to him for like five minutes. It was nothing.”

She perched herself on the couch as I pulled on my boots, not bothering to tie them. It was getaway time.

“Admit you like him. Admit you think he’s hot, at least. He’s Lucas Matthews. It’s not like you’d be the only one!”

I pulled on my mittens and zipped up my jacket. “What’s the point of this? I’m never going to see him again.”

“I just want you to admit, just once, that you’re attracted to someone,” she said. “Prove to me you have a pulse. Go on, prove it!”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Say ‘Lucas Matthews is a hottie,’” she said, bouncing on the couch cushion. “Say it like you mean it.”

I glared at her, adjusting my bag on my shoulder. She was never going to let this go. I knew my sister. If I didn’t give in, she’d bring it up every time I saw her, in front of other people, even. Appeasing her now would avoid embarrassment later. Well, probably. You never knew with Em.

I sighed. “Lucas Matthews is a hottie,” I said, and pulled open the front door. “There, are you happy now?”