But first, nature calls. I head down the hall and, of course, there’s a line. A girl bangs on the door and out walks Lucy Alvarez.
Fuck. Me. Running.
Damn. She looks so good. That's nothing new. She's effortlessly beautiful, always has been.
I stop a second to wonder what the hell she’s doing here and how she knows Cait. Lucy and I went to different high schools, same with Booker. But while my bestie went to Rockvale Christian Academy, Lucy went to St. Anthony’s, an exclusive all-girls Catholic school not far from here. Still, we’re the same age, so it’s not a huge leap that she knows some of the people I graduated with.
My ruminations cost me. I turn to stand in line for the bathroom, but 140 pounds, give or take, of perfection slam right into me. The human tornado braces her hands on my arms and looks up, shock apparent on her face. Running into me—literally or metaphorically—clearly wasn’t in her plans. And Lucy loves a plan.
“Luce. How you been?”
“I’m fine. And don’t call me Luce. It’s not my name. And it’s not an accurate description, either.”
Her nose is in the air with that last statement, and I can’t help but laugh.
“My apologies,Lucy.”
A couple guys who played basketball for Westfield when I was there troop through the hall and stand in line for the bathroom. The hell? Why don’t they just piss in the bushes like normal people? That’s what I’m wishing I’d done.
Instead, I’m here, in this increasingly crowded hallway with a woman who would clearly rather be somewhere else. And that stings. She was my first crush. What the hell am I saying? She was my first love.
I took one look all those years ago and fell hard and fast. It’s safe to say Lucy is my ideal type, physically speaking. It’s a chicken and egg situation, I guess. Had I already had a proclivity for shortish girls with junk in the trunk, big brown eyes, and a curtain of brunette hair to match? Possibly. Or did Lucy set the tone and theme for every fantasy I’d have from that day forward? Also very possible. Either way, I fell in lust. Then she opened her mouth, sass came pouring out, and I fell deeper in lust.
But like I said, the feeling is not mutual.It took Lucy a few summers to warm up to me, and if the look she’s giving me now is any indication, she’s totally forgotten all the affection she ever felt.
And that hits me like a punch in the gut. I can still remember the feel of her soft body against mine as I held her while she fell asleep in my arms on our last night together. I can remember the feel of her lips on mine. But while my mind is strolling down memory lane, it looks like her mind is set on finding a route out of here.
“Why aren’t you dancing, Luce? The music too good for you? Should I dig out some NKOTB and make you feel right at home?”
She glares daggers at me, and that’s part of this fun game we play.
“I don’t feel like dancing.”
“Oh, that’s right. You’re allergic to fun. My bad. Better be careful. You got an Epi-pen or something?”
Her cheeks are bright red now, and her fists are little balls at her sides. “I’m not allergic to fun. I’m just not a...a fun whore,” she sputters.
“A fun whore?” I laugh. “What are they teaching you at that fancy school, Luce? ‘Cause it sure ain’t comebacks.”
“For the four thousandth time, don’t call me Luce.”
I shake my head. “You’re not special, Lucy. I shorten everyone’s name. It’s my thing.”
She huffs, so I concede.
“But fine. If you insist, I’ll longen yours.”
“Longen? That’s not a word, Caleb.”
She’s the only person in the world besides my mom who calls me Caleb. For very different reasons, I love that they both do it.
I sigh. “Your dad pays a hell of a lot of tuition for you to learn that ‘longen’ isn’t a word. I hope that’s not the only thing they taught you in the land of cheese. But alright. What’s your middle name? Lemme guess, Ann?”
“No.”
“Ok, Elizabeth?”
“No.”
