TWENTY-EIGHT

Lexi 

‘HEY.’ 

Luc sees me before I see him. He’s standing outside the diner. The same one we met at after that disastrous first drunken night.

Like last time, my stomach is a fluttering mess as I approach him.

Unlike last time, he immediately pulls me into a kiss.

Are there cameras here?

Pulling back, I glance around.

He grins. ‘Just us,’ he says, reading my mind.

OK, I nod. 

I will not ask about the stupid dress thing.

Forcing a smile, I let him take my hand.

It’s nothing, I tell myself as he pushes the door for us to enter. Just a damn dress. 

‘You hungry?’ he asks as we approach the counter. 

No. I have a belly full of butterflies.

Obviously I don’t say that, though.

‘Yeah,’ I reply, nodding a bit too enthusiastically. 

I glaze over as Luc orders us milkshakes. Same as the first time. Banana thing for him. Strawberry thing for me.

At least this time I’m not dressed to match the milkshake.

A squeeze of my hand snaps me back.

Luc’s looking at me.

The woman behind the counter—younger this time and smiling patiently—is waiting.

I look at Luc blankly.

‘What do you want to eat?’ 

My mind remains blank for a second before I clock on.

‘Oh.’ I look up at the menu board behind the counter. ‘Hot dog and fries, please.’ 

Luc orders his own meal and hands the woman some money. As she’s getting his change, he looks at me and lowers his voice. ‘Are you OK?’

I nod. ‘Yep.’

He doesn’t look convinced.

Stupid fucking Shannen.

I need to ask him.

Two minutes later, our food and milkshakes are handed to us on a tray and we find a table.

‘How was uni?’ Luc asks cautiously as we sit. 

I nod. ‘Yeah, OK.’ My foot taps the floor under the table uncontrollably. I look down at the food.

Not sure I can eat this.

At least not until I know.

I can feel Luc watching me for a moment. He reaches across the table and takes my hands in his. ‘Lexi.’ His voice is low. Soft. ‘What’s up?’

I keep looking down, staring at the hot dog. Screw it. I’m just going to ask. ‘Why the red dress?’

Luc hesitates. ‘I…what?’

‘That cystic fibrosis thing.’ 

‘No, I know what you’re talking about. I don’t know what you mean, though.’ 

I sigh. ‘Why did you want me to wear the red dress?’ I raise my head to watch his response.

He shakes his head and speaks carefully. ‘Because I thought you looked really hot in it the first time we met.’

I raise an eyebrow.

‘Hot enough to get your number and risk pissing off Jake by meeting up with his girlfriend’s best friend the next night,’ he adds with a grin. 

‘So nothing to do with what Hayley used to wear?’ I wonder if this is the first time I’ve said her name out loud to him. I think it might be. 

His expression tells me he doesn’t have a clue what I’m talking about.

‘The red dress. There’s an article comparing me to her online somewhere. Probably more than one.’ 

And I look like a freaking giant compared to her. Naturally.

He frowns. ‘It’s just a dress. And you look amazing in your one. You never seemed to care what the press said before now. What’s happened?’

I exhale. ‘I didn’t. I don’t. It’s just some girl in uni brought it up and showed everyone and I look really stupid and weird and like some kind of stalker now! Like I’m trying to become a replica of your stupid ex.’

I pause for him to respond. But he doesn’t. His expression is unreadable.

‘Why not the black dress?’ I try. ‘The one I wore on New Year’s Eve?’ 

He sighs. ‘What’s this really about?’

Pulling my hands from his, I cross my arms and look away. ‘I don’t even know what we’re doing,’ I say quietly.

‘I thought we were having fun,’ he offers. 

‘We’re having an argument,’ I shoot back, looking at him again. 

‘Over someone I don’t ever want to see again,’ he says. 

I shake my head. ‘I feel like some third wheel in your break-up.’

‘But Hayley isn’t with me. She’s got nothing to do with us.’ He pauses and waits for my response. When I say nothing, he adds, ‘She and I broke up months ago. She’s not even trying to be with me any more, for fuck’s sake.’ 

His words are a surprise. I thought she still wanted him back. ‘What? Since when?’

He looks down briefly. ‘She sent me a text on New Year’s Day. She’s accepted it’s over.’

‘I…why didn’t you tell me?’ 

He runs a hand through his hair. ‘Because it doesn’t matter.’

‘Of course it matters! You made me go to that event and talk to the press and put me in front of all the paparazzi for nothing.’ 

He narrows his eyes. ‘For nothing?’

I have a horrible realisation. ‘It’s the only reason you messaged me after that night. And the only reason you’re still talking to me now. Isn’t it?’

‘No,’ he says deliberately, ‘I’m still talking to you because I like you, you dumbfuck.’ 

I ignore the insult. ‘Not initially, you didn’t.’

Luc doesn’t say anything.

Regretting my choice of words, I try again. ‘You just wanted me to…you just wanted to hire me.’

I want him to tell me I’m wrong. That he did always want me.

‘You seemed like you could use a hand,’ he says instead. ‘And there were already pictures of us online. It made sense.’ 

I’m not sure what to say for a moment. I look down at my food, rapidly cooling now.

Definitely can’t eat.

I steel myself and look directly at him. ‘So you didn’t even like me?’

‘Of course I fucking did.’ Luc looks away again. Longer this time. ‘I just didn’t know if it was a good idea.’ 

I feel sick but press on regardless. I have to. ‘If what was a good idea?’

‘To get involved. To see you again after that first night.’ 

‘Because I threw up?’ I speak quickly, before I can stop myself from asking what I need to know. 

He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. Again. ‘You just seemed like you were a bit all over the place. Like you needed to sort yourself out.’

We look at each other. His blue, gold-flecked eyes bore into mine.

I feel like a dumb kid sitting opposite him.

Some dumb, stupid girl. Exposed entirely and I didn’t even realise it.

I feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. Feel the heat of shame covering my face.

He saw right through me. Saw the mess. And didn’t want any of it.

Who can blame him, though?

He made me his fake girlfriend out of pity.

I push my chair back and stand slowly.

Slow enough for him to say something. To stop me. To tell me he’s kidding.

And he doesn’t.

‘I need to go,’ I say quietly. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but I suddenly don’t want to hear it.

And, for the second time, I leave the diner humiliated. 

TWO HOURS LATER, I sit on the edge of my bed, loosely holding a letter in my hand. Someone slipped it under my bedroom door for me so that I would find it when I got back. 

Probably Mylo.

It’s from one of the universities I applied for a PGCE at.

It’s thin.

Offers are usually thick, aren’t they?

My other hand holds the phone to my ear.

‘I should have told you sooner. About Hayley, I mean,’ Luc says on the other end of the line. 

This is the first time we’ve ever spoken on the phone.

‘Yeah, well. I’m sorry I’m such a…’ I stare at the unopened letter, searching for the right word. ‘A clusterfuck.’ 

Luc laughs, deep and sexy, down the phone. ‘You’re not a clusterfuck.’

‘You said as much. That you never wanted to see me again because of it.’ 

‘Didn’t stop any of this from happening though, did it?’ he asks. 

I shrug, even though there’s no one here to see me. ‘Guess not.’

‘And I’m not trying to make you look like her.’ 

I don’t respond to that one.

‘You really did look fucking amazing in that dress, though.’ 

I lay back on the bed. ‘I don’t really love all the press attention.’

‘Yeah, it’s shit isn’t it?’ 

‘So why take me to that thing?’ I demand. 

‘I wanted you with me. It was selfish of me,’ he admits before pausing. Then: ‘Are you saying you didn’t enjoy any of it?’ 

‘That’s not the point!’ Of course I did. It was extremely hot. I dig my finger under the flap of the envelope to distract myself from the all-too-welcome memories of Luc’s hands on me. 

He laughs at my protesting. ‘OK, OK. Look, it’s Valentine’s Day next week. How about we do something? Just the two of us. No press.’

I sit back up as the envelope opens fully, tipping the letter onto my lap.

Expecting two rejections, I cautiously pick up the letter and speak at the same time. ‘Like a couple?’

May as well pull the plaster off in one awful go.

My heart thumps in my chest.

‘Yes,’ Luc replies simply. ‘Like a couple.’ 

Dear Ms Johnson, we’re pleased to inform you that you are invited…

I’ve got an interview offer. February 25th.

I can’t believe it.

I scan down the page.

It’s best to apply for funding immediately, before waiting for an official offer. We offer the following grants and scholarships for those…

I might not even have to worry about money. Or ask Luc.

It’s not excitement. Just relief. But that’s enough. It’s more than I could have expected.

‘Lexi?’ Luc’s voice cuts in. 

‘Yes? Yes! Valentine’s Day sounds good,’ I smile, my pulse slowing to a more normal rate. 

An interview offer and Valentine’s with Luc. Like a couple.

It’s almost perfect.

Just need to nail this interview.

Almost perfect.

Almost.