Play Me, I'm Yours [Library Edition] (2 page)

Chapter Two
Girls Just Want To Have Fun

L
UCAS
knew he was being ridiculous. He didn’t need to leave the house for another two hours, yet here he was primping for his evening out. Deodorant? Check. Teeth brushed? Check. Nails trimmed? Check. Hair combed? Check. Well, finger combed with a bit of pomade for added texture. He liked his hair. It was sandy brown, and he wore it parted to the side in wisps across his forehead. It was long enough to run his fingers through but not so long that it could be mistaken for a girl’s cut. The last thing he wanted was to accentuate his effeminate features.

He wished his features weren’t so delicate. He had a slender nose and full, pink lips. His eyes were a warm milk chocolate lined with long, dark lashes, and they were framed with perfectly symmetrical eyebrows. Thankfully, his brows had thickened in the past two years, but even so, they looked too well groomed to be considered masculine. How funny would it be if he plucked his eyebrows to make them look
less
perfect? He dismissed the thought as he ran his fingers over his cheeks and chin. His skin was smooth. He wondered what it would be like to have real whiskers instead of the baby fine hairs that grazed his fingertips.

He wished he were a few inches taller too. He was only five foot six, the same as Mason, who was two years younger and hadn’t hit his growth spurt. Lucas didn’t have the athletic build of his brother either. Not only was he short but scrawny as well. He often caught himself staring at the long, lean bodies on display at the pool: Zach Teagan, David Shelby, and Brian Kim. That was what a real man was supposed to look like. Lucas wondered what Chris would look like in a bathing suit. Better than Lucas. He knew that much for sure.

Lucas sighed, then wandered to his dresser to choose an outfit. He wanted to look good without appearing he’d tried too hard. Would Chris notice if Lucas showed up wearing a different outfit? That would be awkward. It wasn’t like this was a date. It was just two guys hanging out, right? Lucas hugged his waist, suddenly feeling unsure of himself. Did Chris think this was a date? Did Chris think Lucas thought this was a date? Changing clothes was a bad idea, he decided. Maybe the whole thing was a bad idea.

“What do you think, Ted?” Lucas asked the stuffed bear on his dresser. Ted had been with him for many years and knew Lucas better than anyone. With an ear willing to listen and a soft shoulder to cry on, Ted was the keeper of Lucas’s deepest secrets. Like that time when Lucas was thirteen and slept with a grown man’s sweaty armbands under his pillow for two weeks.

His dad’s friend, Mark, had been visiting from out of town. Mark cracked a lot of jokes and made everyone laugh. Lucas liked the way Mark’s eyes lit up when he smiled. He liked the way Mark looked at everyone in the room when he told his stories, acknowledging even Lucas’s presence. He followed Mark around like a puppy for the duration of his visit.

He was thrilled when Mark invited him to tag along for a game of tennis. He didn’t even mind being the ball boy. He was content to watch Mark play with his dad. Mark didn’t tease him when he fumbled a catch or missed a throw. His dad, on the other hand, apologized whenever Lucas threw the ball outside of Mark’s reach.

After the game, they made their way to a nearby bench where Mark and his dad chugged water and toweled off.

Mark looked over at Lucas. “Too bad Mason was busy. We could have played doubles.”

“Mason wouldn’t play with me.” Lucas lowered his eyes. “I suck at tennis.”

“No worries, buddy. I’d have been your partner. All you need’s a little practice,” Mark said, slapping Lucas on the shoulder. “And some proper motivation.”

“What kind of motivation would that be?” his dad said, wiping his forearm.

“Let me show you.” Mark waved Lucas back onto the court. “All right, I’m gonna go to the other side and hit the ball to you. You catch it. Got it? You get three tries. If you catch one, I’ll take you out for ice cream. You like ice cream?”

Lucas nodded.

“If you don’t catch at least one, then… let’s see….” Mark thought about it for a few seconds and then laughed. “Then you have to wear my sweaty armbands on the ride home.”

Lucas swallowed. He’d been watching Mark use those armbands to wipe the sweat off his forehead for the past hour. And then there were the beads of sweat he knew were trickling down Mark’s biceps and forearms, pooling at the edge of the bands.

“Ready?”

“Yes,” Lucas said. He took a breath and prepared for his first catch. He tried. He really did. He didn’t want Mark to think he was a loser, especially after Mark had displayed so much faith in him. If he couldn’t catch these balls, he’d be letting everyone down, including himself.

Lucas saw the ball hurtling toward him and flinched. He closed his eyes as he reached out, willing the ball to land in his hands.

“Aw, man. I hit it right to you. That should’ve been an easy one,” Mark said. “Try again.”

Lucas did no better on the next attempt. Unless he counted the fact that the ball made bodily contact. It hit him in the gut and bounced off.

“Oh shit. You okay?” Mark said, walking toward him.

“I’m fine.” Lucas waved him off. The tears that threatened to fall were more from humiliation than any physical pain.
Please, please, please let me catch this one.

“Ice cream sounds really good right about now, doesn’t it?”

An image of Mark licking his way around an ice cream cone flashed in Lucas’s mind. Lucas wiped his sweaty palms on his shorts.

Reminding himself to keep his eyes open, he watched Mark hit the ball to him one last time. It slapped against his hand, but as he attempted to close his fingers around it, it bounced back and hit the court with a thud.

Lucas blinked back tears as he scrambled to collect the tennis balls, tokens of shame littering the court. He returned to Mark and his dad with his head down.

“No worries, buddy,” Mark said. “If you want to be good at something—anything at all—it takes perseverance. You take a licking, you get right back up and try again. Remember that.”

Lucas nodded as Mark peeled off his wet T-shirt. Lucas watched out of the corner of his eye as Mark wiped his chest and armpits with the balled-up shirt. He tossed it over by his bag, where it ricocheted and flopped to the ground.

“See that?” Mark said.

Lucas blushed, realizing he’d been caught staring.

“Even I’m not perfect.” Mark peeled off his armbands and turned to face Lucas. “Now hold ’em up.”

Lucas felt his heart thump. Was this half-naked man really going to slip his sweaty armbands around Lucas’s wrists? He turned to look at his dad, who stood behind him, but his dad just shrugged and said, “A deal’s a deal, kiddo.”

Lucas nodded and held out his arms. It must have taken mere seconds, though it felt like an eternity as Lucas forced his hands through the tight, stretchy bands. They were saturated.

Mark tugged and snapped at them until they were properly seated, and Lucas felt a tingling heat spread through his body.

“There ya go,” Mark said. He wrapped his hands around the armbands, then gave them one last squeeze. When Mark let go, Lucas dropped both his arms, and Mark’s eyebrows rose.

Lucas looked down and realized in horror that his arousal was noticeable. He froze. All thought vanished, leaving only fear in its place.

Mark squeezed his shoulder. “Why don’t you go on ahead, buddy? Hit the head before we go.”

Lucas bolted. By the time he reached the bathroom, his not-so-little problem had resolved itself, but he stayed and splashed cold water on his face anyway.

When he met his dad and Mark at the car, he couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact with either of them. He was worried about what Mark thought of him, but Mark didn’t say anything. He acted as though nothing had happened. When Mark stopped by the next day to say good-bye to the family, Lucas hoped he’d forgotten the whole incident.

Then his dad opened his big mouth. “Lucas? Did you give Mark his armbands back?”

“No worries,” Mark said.

Lucas figured he didn’t want them back after what had happened.

But then Mark reached out and ruffled Lucas’s hair. “You keep ’em,” he said, smiling. Then he winked. “Something to remember me by.”

Lucas did keep them. In fact, he still had them tucked away in a dresser drawer. He now winced at how silly he’d been, sleeping with them under his pillow for those first two weeks.

Ted was the only other person who even knew about that. Not that Ted was a person. Lucas loved him nonetheless. When he was little, Lucas called him Teddy Beddy, because he slept with the bear every night. Over time, as they both grew older, Teddy Beddy became Teddy, and later, just Ted. Now Ted stared back at him blankly.

“I mean, what do Chris Robins and I even have in common?” Lucas said to Ted. “What are we gonna talk about?”

Music. That’s what had brought them together in the first place. It was a start anyway.

“Wish me luck, Ted,” Lucas said on his way out.

A
S
HE
pulled his Honda Civic into a space at the far side of the lot, Lucas glanced at the dashboard clock. He was ten minutes early. He didn’t know what kind of car Chris drove, if he drove at all. There was no way to tell if Chris was already here. Why hadn’t Lucas asked him for his phone number? Lucas wondered if he should wait a few minutes before going inside. If he waited in the car, someone might see him sitting here. That would be awkward. If he went in now and Chris wasn’t there, he’d be standing around. That would be even more awkward. At least in the car he could pretend to be using his phone or listening to the radio. He decided to stay put, using the last few minutes to run through possible topics of conversation one more time: music, movies, books (though he doubted Chris was an avid reader), vacation plans, and if the situation became desperate, he’d stumble through sports talk.

At seven on the dot, he pushed his way through the noisy entrance of Bay Burgers. His stomach growled in response to the smell of hamburgers sizzling on the grill. The jukebox played “Hungry Like the Wolf” by Duran Duran, a song he recognized from childhood. He was familiar with a lot of ’80s music. His mom used to buy sheet music of her favorite albums for Lucas to play.

The restaurant was crowded. It was a popular hangout since it flanked the arcade. Bay’s had open seating, with booths lining the perimeter and tables filling the interior of three separate dining areas. Customers seated themselves, then placed their order at the main counter when ready.

Chris wasn’t waiting at the entrance, so Lucas walked around to see if he was sitting at a table. As Lucas meandered through the dining rooms, he spotted familiar faces. He tried to avoid eye contact, afraid of drawing attention to himself. He hated being recognized in public, especially by kids from school. The last thing he wanted was for Chris to overhear someone taunting him. Chris was nowhere in sight, though. Lucas checked his phone. It was only 7:09. Maybe Chris was running late.

Lucas returned to the front of the restaurant where he ordered a drink. Then he grabbed a seat in the main dining area. He felt awkward sitting alone, so he busied himself with a game of Scrabble on his phone. For someone who so often struggled to find words in conversation, he was surprisingly skilled at word games. He found it difficult to concentrate on Scrabble tonight, though. His gaze drifted toward the entrance every few seconds.

He was adept at tuning out background noise, especially when he had a lot on his mind, so the nearby conversations barely registered in his ears. Not until he heard the shrill cry of “Cyndi Lauper!” followed by an eruption of laughter. He glanced toward the source of the ruckus and identified six kids he knew from school. They were squeezed into a neighboring booth, from which they were looking in his direction, pointing and laughing. He felt his face flush and glanced toward the entrance, hoping Chris hadn’t walked in just then.

He’d known that outburst in his music class would come back to haunt him the minute it had escaped his lips.

He told himself to ignore them. He was pretty sure the kids in the booth were friends with Chris, though, and it made him wonder if they would’ve done it had Chris been sitting with him. Lucas played out the scenario in his mind, imagining Chris would stick up for him. He’d tell them all to fuck off. He’d tell them how he’d heard Lucas play earlier that day. He’d tell them how amazing Lucas was.

Who was he kidding? Chris would have laughed along with them. Lucas supposed he deserved it. He had
squealed,
after all, which was a girly thing to do. Even so, he was tired of being the butt of everyone’s jokes.

His phone now showed 7:25. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Chris wasn’t going to show. Chris had stood him up. Maybe his other friend had changed his mind and they’d gone to the arcade together after all. Maybe he’d gotten in trouble at home, and his parents wouldn’t let him go out. Maybe he was sick. God forbid, maybe he was in an accident. Lucas knew he was being ridiculous again, but he clung to the hope that wherever Chris was, he was sorry he’d missed their date.

B
Y
THE
time he got home, Lucas had worked himself into a frantic state. What should he do at school on Monday if he saw Chris? Should he ask him what happened? Should he act pissed and wait for Chris to apologize? Or should he pretend it hadn’t fazed him at all? One thing he was fairly sure of was that Chris wasn’t sitting around obsessing over the events of the night the way Lucas was.

As Lucas climbed the stairs to his room, his phone vibrated in his pocket. His first thought was that maybe Chris had somehow gotten his number and was calling to apologize. But when he looked at the screen, he froze midstep. It was a Facebook notification.

Chris Robins has tagged you in 2 photos
.

Lucas’s heart raced. When had Chris taken his picture? His phone vibrated again.