EIGHT

Lexi 

WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON. I left the girls in the library. Conveniently, they’ve got a joint lab project together and they’re not so familiar with my workload, so I didn’t even really need to come up with an excuse to leave early. 

Still, you didn’t tell them, did you?

I round the corner and there he is. So stupidly casual, sunglasses and all. Leaning against the wall outside the diner he suggested, looking at his phone.

My stomach’s a fluttering mess as I approach, and I’m not sure if it’s low-level guilt or the way his t-shirt clings to his shoulders.

He looks up as I close in on him, smiling as he sees me.

‘Hey Alexis,’ he says, his voice every bit as soft and sexy as I remember from the last time we spoke. Well, the last time when I wasn’t a nauseous mess. 

Don’t think about it. Pretend it didn’t happen.

He opens the door and stands aside, indicating for me to enter first. I do, but then hang back and follow him to the counter.

‘What are you ordering?’ says an older, serious and seriously bored-looking woman behind the counter. 

Luc looks up at the menu, displayed on backlit screens above and behind the woman. Pictures of practically fluorescent milkshakes and ice cream sundaes fill the five screens, along with the names of a couple of dozen flavours and combos.

He glances at me and looks me up and down. I’m wearing a pink tee, white skinny jeans and trainers that go with both. ‘Well, we know you don’t want banana. How about strawberries and cream to match your outfit?’

He looks so sure of himself. So smug. Like it’s so predictable I would like strawberries and cream. And like I would dress in the same colours. And do both at the same time. I really want to tell him no, just to wipe that damn smirk off his beautiful face.

Unfortunately, he’s right.

I attempt a smarmy face back at him, narrowing my eyes and forcing an obviously fake, tight-lipped smile.

He raises an eyebrow and turns back to the woman behind the counter. ‘Yeah, she’ll take the strawberries and cream shake.’

Great. I go find us a table while he orders his sickly banana shake.

As I sit down I realise that the décor of the entire place is red, white and silver.

I even match the stupid diner.

While Luc pays, I become aware of three girls in the far corner watching him, reminding me he’s famous. It’s weird how I forget when I’m with him that he’s some well-known rock star drummer guy.

They keep watching, chattering to each other, as he walks over to our table.

Our table.

He’s carrying one pink and white swirled concoction with whipped cream, a cherry and sprinkles on top.

‘Strawberry Cream Cherry Dream for you.’ 

He puts down some yellow thing in front of himself as he sits opposite me.

‘And, uh, what do they call that monstrosity?’ I ask, looking at his drink apprehensively. 

‘Delicious,’ he says, grinning. 

I raise an eyebrow and lean forward, taking a sip of mine.

It’s so thick and oh so good. Even if it does have a stupid name.

Luc watches me and shakes his head with a chuckle.

I stop. ‘What?’

‘Fucking strawberry?’ 

‘It’s better than that banana crap you’ve got.’ I lick my lips, to make sure I’m not inadvertently making a mess of myself. Again. 

‘Banana and peanut butter, actually.’ He still hasn’t taken his sunglasses off. 

‘Ew, even worse!’ 

I glance over at the corner girls, to the left of Luc and several tables away. They’re still watching.

I feel so exposed.

‘So, you got home safe?’ he asks after taking a sip of his own drink. 

‘Are you going to take your sunglasses off?’ I ask in return, ignoring his question. 

‘Maybe.’ 

I want to see his eyes. And I feel doubly exposed with the corner three over there watching us and not knowing what he’s looking at. 

Want to take his sunglasses off. I’m tempted to just do it. My fingers twitch and…it could be my mind playing tricks, but I swear the corner of his mouth twitches in response.

I bite at my lips, considering it. This isn’t fair.

Screw it.

I reach out towards his face with both hands. I expect him to block me with his arms, or at least grab my wrists to stop me.

He doesn’t.

Instead, his smile gets wider.

I carefully hook my fingers under the arms of his shades and pull them away from his face.

His eyes are so blue. Like cobalt blue, or something. And he locks them onto me, running his hands through his dirty blond hair as he does it.

‘That’s not very friendly,’ he says. 

‘Neither was hiding your eyes from me,’ I shoot right back. Then I realise how it sounds like I actually wanted to see his eyes. ‘Because, you know, it’s dehumanising, or something,’ I quickly add. He doesn’t need to know the truth. 

‘Are you Luc Hall?’ a high-pitched voice suddenly says from my left. We both look. The corner trio are now standing next to us. Luc runs his hand through his hair again, his smile different now as he responds to his fan girls. 

He signs some placemats for them and lets them take some photos. I focus on my milkshake, wanting to disappear. I don’t belong here, in this world.

His world.

‘Is this your girlfriend?’ My attention snaps back. The four of them are looking at me. My jaw drops open, not knowing what to say. Looking from Luc to his fans and back again. 

Luc looks at me with intensity for a moment, then smiles slightly. ‘Well,’ he says slowly, pulling his gaze away from mine after a few seconds to look back at the girls, ‘maybe.’

I raise my eyebrows, not really having a clue how to respond. Surely he’s just messing with them?

He looked so serious, though…

My mouth still open, I try to say something, but no sound comes out.

A few moments later, the girls are gone.

‘What was that?’ I ask when I finally get my voice back. 

Luc shrugs, sipping his milkshake. ‘I don’t know. They asked. And it’s nice to give them what they want, sometimes.’

‘Yeah, I bet,’ I mutter. Sam’s comments from last week and the weekend echo in my head. 

‘Gave you what you want, didn’t I?’ Luc says, putting his shake back down. 

Now I really don’t know what to say. Crap, what happened on the weekend? What did I do? A million scenarios race through my mind, each more horrifying than the last. 

What did stupid drunk me say?

‘Yeah, that milkshake. And my sunglasses.’ He smiles a mischievous smile. He’s far too beautiful for his own good. 

And he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Bastard.

I scowl playfully and slide his sunglasses back to him, sucking my straw to occupy my face with something other than looking shocked and annoyed.

‘And, you know, a lift home from your favourite drummer.’ 

I almost choke on his ego. After catching my breath, I look him dead in the eye. ‘Actually, No Reckless aren’t even my favourite band.’ I don’t blink. My voice is steady. I’m actually impressed with my lying skills. Usually I’m the kind of person who can’t even tell a white lie just to be nice.

‘Liar,’ he says, not missing a beat. 

I can feel my face flushing so fast I have to look down immediately. Damn it.

A slight shadow falls around me as he leans closer.

‘You know,’ he lowers his voice, ‘I was kinda hoping you’d still be around when I woke up on Saturday.’ 

My heart is in my throat as I fight the urge to look up.

‘Yeah?’ I say quietly. Where can this conversation possibly be going? 

‘Yeah.’ He hesitates. ‘I, uh, have a favour to ask you.’ 

I look up slightly, confused. ‘A favour?’

‘I was thinking about some of the things you were saying on Friday night.’ 

‘Oh?’ My stomach turns over inside me, and I rub my forehead. 

‘Yeah. The teaching stuff.’ 

‘Teaching?’ That was unexpected. I perk up, slightly relieved, although more confused than ever. ‘I was talking about teaching?’ 

He nods, finishing his milkshake with a slurp. ‘You kept saying you had to teach. Didn’t sound like you actually wanted to, though.’

I nod, still not really understanding where this is going. ‘Yeah. No. But you know how it is…’ I trail off, looking more closely at him than ever before. Bright blue eyes flecked with gold. He’s far sexier in person.

And a twenty-five year old rock star.

He definitely doesn’t know how it is. He has it made.

He keeps talking. ‘Well, I’ve got something to ask you.’

I wait.

‘How’d you feel about being my girlfriend?’ 

My heart rate accelerates, even though I know, with all the logic in my brain, that I must be misunderstanding. ‘I, uh…’ I manage to stutter.

‘For the cameras, I mean,’ he adds quickly, running his hand through his hair yet again. Somehow, it doesn’t get messier. 

‘I…wait, what?’ I take a deep breath to calm myself down. My reaction is ridiculous. ‘Instead of being a teacher, you mean?’ 

‘Well, no, but for a little while,’ Luc says, fiddling with his sunglasses. ‘My ex-girlfriend just won’t take the hint, and I need a way to really drive home the fact that we’re over. She knows I was out with you the other night. A few more things like that might just do the trick.’ He’s speaking slightly faster than usual. 

I’m not sure what to say. For a moment, I just sit there.

And, for a moment, I feel numb.

He just wants me to pretend to be his girlfriend. To get rid of his ex-girlfriend. So he can be free to screw whoever he wants. 

I’m just a cover.

This whole flirtation has been entirely in my head.

Whatever I thought might have happened on Friday night, it can’t be worse than this.

My pulse is in my stomach.

This is so embarrassing. All the teasing, and getting my number, and thinking he wanted something, even just a one-night stand…all in my dumb head.

And another thought: Sam really is right about these guys. 

‘Alexis?’ 

The sound of my name being used in its entirety snaps me out of my thoughts and I make eye contact with him.

He’s looking back, waiting for my answer.

I don’t know what to say.

What the fuck am I supposed to say?

Oh yeah, Luc, just use me because, because…I don’t even know!

I just know that I don’t think this is for me. Whatever this is. I open my mouth to tell him so, but he gets there first.

‘I’ll pay you.’ His face is the most serious I’ve seen it. Which, admittedly, isn’t saying much. We’ve only met a few times. But he’s usually smirking, grinning, laughing, teasing…all for show though, apparently. 

‘What?’ I hear myself say. 

‘For your time. For the inconvenience.’ 

Oh hell no. I’ve already been called a whore on Twitter.

I inhale jaggedly and stand up, my long legs jerking against the table, nearly causing the glasses to tip. He skillfully grabs them.

Drummer skills?

Oh, who cares.

‘What’s wrong?’ he says, looking up at me. 

Towering over him, like this, I feel powerful.

‘No.’ 

‘No?’ He looks confused. Maybe he’s not used to girls turning him down. 

‘No. Thank you, but no. I don’t need your money.’ I try to sound calm and controlled, although I worry my voice is shriller than I’m hearing. 

‘But you wouldn’t have to—’ 

‘I have a fully-funded offer for teaching,’ I continue, determined to maintain control. ‘I’m more than just a, a, a dummy for the cameras.’ 

My heart isn’t in my throat but there’s a lump nonetheless. As I say the words, fighting to sound like a person and not just window dressing, I can feel the tears forming behind my eyes. I feel slightly ridiculous, but I can’t help it. What did I expect, though?

I turn to leave and I hear Luc getting up.

‘Wait, I didn’t mean—’ 

I manage to exit the diner at a walk, then break into a sprint, grateful for my choice of footwear.

I won’t let anyone see me cry, damn it.