Easy (9 page)

Authors: Tammara Webber

Tags: #Young Adult Fiction

BOOK: Easy

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So I’m kind, huh? Never heard that before. People usually think I’m a pretentious
a-hole. I must admit, I tend to encourage that estimation. So please promise to
keep your opinion to yourself. Reputations can be ruined so easily, you know. ;)

PS – Do the worksheet. Before Friday. I’m giving you a very serious look through
this screen. DO THE WORKSHEET. If you have problems with any of the material,
let me know.

Landon,

What’s stopping me? Well, I’ve blown the chance to go to a serious music school. And I’m
stuck in a state that doesn’t always foster the arts (something I’ll probably
spend my entire teaching career fighting). It seems impossible to go out now
and “do.” I guess I should rethink that.

Your secret geniality is safe. My lips are sealed.

PS – I’m DOING the worksheet, but I’m giving you a very petulant look through my screen. Slave driver. Sheesh.

I was grinning
when I clicked send. Maybe I was playing an entirely different game of chase,
and Lucas and his infuriatingly enigmatic smile could take a flying leap. Erin
and Maggie could keep their make-him-chase-you advice and use it themselves,
because I, apparently, sucked at it in real life. Through email, though… My
happy expression slid away as I realized the stark truth—I was flirting with
someone online. I had no idea what he looked like, or what type of person he
was.

That wasn’t
exactly true. I knew exactly what type of person he was, even though I’d never
laid eyes on him. He was kind. And intelligent. And straightforward.

Of course, he
hadn’t beaten a would-be rapist to a bloody pulp for me. Or made my insides
melt when he put his hands on my waist. He probably didn’t have tattoos on his
arms or glacier-gray-blue eyes and a liquefying stare.

At 10:00 pm, my phone trilled a text alert.

Lucas: Hi :)

Me: Hi :)

Lucas: What’s up?

Me: Nothing. Homework.

Lucas: I wanted to talk to you after class, but you disappeared.

Me: I have another class right after. One of those profs who stops talking, stares at you and waits until you get to your seat if you’re late.

Lucas: I would probably just walk to my seat even slower. ;)

Lucas: You should come by the SB Friday. It’s usually dead. Americano, on the house?

Me: Free coffee? I can’t pass that up. I’ll try to stop by. When do you work?

Lucas: All afternoon. Til 5.

Me: K

Lucas: See you Friday, Jacqueline

Chapter 7

Lucas was fifteen minutes late to
class on Friday, and we had a pop quiz first thing—which he missed. My first
thought was how irresponsible it was to miss a quiz… and then I remembered that
I missed the
midterm
. I couldn’t exactly point any fingers.

He slipped through
the back door as Dr. Heller walked up the center aisle, collecting quizzes. He
took the stacks from the left row and then turned to the right, where Lucas
sat. “I need to see you after class,” he said, his voice low.

Inclining his head
once, Lucas pulled his text from his backpack and replied in the same subdued
tone. “Yes, sir.”

I didn’t look back
at him during the remainder of class, and when it was over, he packed up his
backpack and walked down the outside aisle to the front. While waiting for Dr.
Heller to finish his conversation with another student, Lucas’s eyes lifted and
found me. His smile was as unreadable as always, scarcely there at all. But his
gaze was focused, pegging me like a dart to a board.

Turning his
attention to our professor, he broke the stare. I released the breath I’d not
realized I was holding and escaped the classroom, undecided on whether or not
to follow through with stopping by Starbucks that afternoon.

I considered the
quiz I’d just aced, thanks to Landon’s insistence that I complete the worksheet
he sent two nights ago. Doing that worksheet had been all sorts of help—on a quiz
he must have known about. I didn’t think he’d crossed a line and told me
something he shouldn’t have, but his toe was definitely on the line. For me. Swept
along and invisible among thousands of other students on this enormous campus,
I was struck by the fact that for some reason, he’d gone out of his way to help
me. For some reason, I mattered to him.

Erin: Chaz and I are leaving soon. You gonna be ok this weekend? You’re going to SB this afternoon,
RIGHT? If he asks you out, GO FOR IT. Clear the palate! Don’t forget you’ll
have the room to yourself all weekend. WINK WINK.

Me: You kids have fun. I’ll be fine! I’ll keep you posted.

Erin: You’d better! I’ll be
back Sunday afternoon. Or evening, depending on the level of hangover Sunday
morning. Heh heh. TEXT ME LATER.

I’d forgotten Erin’s
road trip with Chaz was this weekend. His brother was in a band, and they were
playing at a festival tomorrow near Shreveport, so they had reservations at a
bed and breakfast for the weekend. Erin told Maggie and me about it last month
while we waited to look at Mercury and Venus through a telescope during an
evening astronomy lab.

“A
bed and
breakfast?
” Maggie arched a brow. “What’s next, monogrammed towels?”

Erin scowled.
“It’s romantic!”

“Exactly,” Maggie
laughed. “And you’re going with
Chaz
. How’d you even talk Mr. Sports
Stats into that, anyway?”

Erin’s full lips made
a prim little bow and she combed a hand through hair so red I could tell its
color even while standing in this dark field on the outskirts of town. “I told
him that bed-and-breakfasts have ginormous whirlpool tubs, and that I’d be
willing to do unspeakably sinful things to him in it.”

A strangled sound
came from one of the two nerdy guys behind us in line, both wearing tortured
expressions and staring at Erin. We stifled laughs.

Maggie sighed.
“Poor Chaz. He never had a chance… he’s gonna be standing in front of a bunch
of people saying ‘I do’ someday without knowing how it happened.”

“Ugh! I don’t
think so. When it’s time to settle down, I’m getting somebody like…” Erin
looked over her shoulder at the eavesdroppers behind us, “like one of them.”

The boys looked at
each other and stood up a little straighter. With a smirk in Erin’s direction,
one of them fist-bumped the other.

***

I doubted Erin would give me a
second thought during her romantic weekend. I was on my own. I deliberated,
finally turning toward the student union while pulling my jacket tighter
against the sudden November chill. Frat parties held this weekend wouldn’t be
open-window, not that I’d know firsthand. There was no way in hell I was going
anywhere Kennedy might be. Or Buck.

The coffee smell
invaded my senses before the Starbucks came into view. Rounding the corner, my
eyes went to the counter, where two employees stood talking. When I didn’t see Lucas,
I wondered if he’d switched shifts and forgot to text me.

There were only a
handful of customers—one of whom was Dr. Heller, reading the paper in the
corner. I had nothing against my professor, but I didn’t exactly want him
witnessing my attempts to flirt with the guy who skipped the quiz and got called
out for it just this morning. I stood just behind a display of coffee mugs and
travel cups.

Just as he had
Monday, Lucas pushed through the door to the back as my eyes brushed over it. My
fingers and toes tingled at the sight of him. Underneath the green apron, he
wore a close-fitting light blue t-shirt, long-sleeved, not the university-branded
sweatshirt he’d worn this morning in class. His shirtsleeves were pushed past
his elbows again, leaving the tattoos visible. I moved to the counter, my eyes
skimming from his forearms to his face. He hadn’t seen me yet.

One of the girls
at the register straightened. “Can I help you?” Her voice held a bite of
annoyance, as though she was snapping her fingers to get my attention.

“I’ve got it,
Eve,” Lucas said, and she shrugged and returned to her conversation with her
coworker, but they both eyed me with even more hostility than a moment before.
“Hey, Jacqueline.”

“Hi.”

He glanced toward
the corner where Dr. Heller sat. “What can I get for you?”

His tone wasn’t
the tone of a guy who’d specifically asked me to come by. Maybe he was behaving
circumspectly for his coworkers’ benefit.

“Um, a grande
Americano, I guess.”

He grabbed the cup
from the stack and made the drink. I tried to hand him my card, but he shook
his head once. “That’s okay. I’ve got it.”

His coworkers
exchanged a look I pretended not to see.

I thanked him and
retreated to the opposite side of the shop from Dr. Heller, setting up my
laptop to work on my econ project. I had to glean information from multiple
sources to defend the position my research paper was taking. It was due before
Thanksgiving break, less than two weeks away.

If I never had to
make up another midterm, it would be too soon.

After an hour, I’d
bookmarked a dozen sources on current international economic happenings, my
coffee was gone, and Lucas hadn’t come over once. I was expected at the high
school for my weekly Friday afternoon bass lessons in half an hour. Shutting
down my laptop, I turned to unplug the power cord from the wall.

“Ms. Wallace.” At
Dr. Heller’s unexpected greeting, I jumped, knocking over my thankfully-empty
cup. “Oh! So sorry to have startled you!”

“Oh, that’s okay.
I’m a little jumpy—from, uh, the coffee.”
And from thinking for one split
second that you were Lucas.

“I just wanted to
let you know that Mr. Maxfield tells me you’re almost caught up, and making
headway on the project. I’m glad to hear it.” He lowered his voice and glanced
around conspiratorially. “My colleagues and I don’t actually
want
to
fail anyone, you know. Our goal is to frighten—I mean
encourage—
the less,
er, serious students to produce. Not that I believe you’re one of those.”

I returned his
smile. “I understand.”

He straightened
and cleared his throat. “Good, good. Well, on that note—have a
productive
weekend.” He chuckled at his joke and I managed to avoid rolling my eyes.

“Thank you, Dr.
Heller.”

He walked to the
counter and spoke to Lucas as I wound the power cord and stowed the laptop in
my backpack. The conversation between them was earnest, and I was concerned when
Dr. Heller seemed to gesture toward me at least once. I wondered if our
professor believed that Lucas was one of those less serious students he could
intimidate into becoming more dedicated. If so, I didn’t want to be used as
some sort of example.

As I walked out, I
looked over my shoulder, but Lucas didn’t shift his gaze my way at all, and his
expression was tense. His coworker, wiping down a counter a few feet away,
smirked at me.

When I left the
high school two hours later, I switched on my phone, endeavoring to look
forward to a weekend alone while it powered up. Clearly, the trip to Starbucks
was a bust. Lucas had been, if possible, even more puzzling and cagey than he
was before.

While working on
the project, I’d emailed Landon to thank him for sending the worksheet
Wednesday, and for insisting that I do it. Not wanting to trigger a possible
guilt complex, I didn’t directly refer to the tipoff he’d knowingly given me,
in case he was the rigorously honest type of guy he seemed to be. I hadn’t
heard from him since Wednesday, but maybe he would email this afternoon or
tonight. Maybe he’d be free this weekend, and we could finally meet.

I had one text
from Erin that she and Chaz had arrived in Shreveport—along with lots of
insinuation about what I could do with a room to myself, and Mom had texted to
ask about my Thanksgiving plans. Kennedy and I had alternated spending the day
at his house or mine the past three years. Somehow, this translated into confusion
about whether or not I was coming home this year. When I texted her back that
yes, breaking up with a guy generally means no more shared holidays, I expected
an apology to follow. I should have known better.

Mom: Don’t be snippy. Your
dad and I planned and paid for a trip to Breckenridge that weekend, because we thought
you could stay at the Moore’s. I guess we’ll have to cancel.

Me: Go ahead and go. I’ll go home with Erin or something.

Mom: Ok. If you’re sure.

Me: I’m sure.

Wow. My boyfriend
dumps me, and the first chance Mom has to be tangibly supportive, she and Dad
are taking off alone to go skiing. Way to make me feel wanted and included,
Mom. As if Kennedy’s rejection wasn’t enough to deal with. Jesus.

I tossed my phone
in an empty cup-holder and drove back to campus, prepared to watch reality TV
and work on economics all weekend.

When I got to my room, I saw that Lucas had texted while I was driving back.

Lucas: Sorry I didn’t say goodbye

Me: It was awkward with Dr. Heller there I guess.

Lucas: Yeah.

Lucas: So, I’d like to sketch you.

Me: Oh?

Lucas: Yeah

Me: Okay. Not, like, sans clothes or anything right?

Lucas: Haha no. Unless you’re up for that.

Lucas: J/k. Is tonight ok? Or tomorrow night?

Me: Tonight is good.