with a sort of insidious fear that slithers through my mind and grasps my heart. It conjures up images of acid eroding rock. Of frosted swords and glinting scythes. “I emailed myself the video.”
“What the fuck do you want, Lucas?” I ask as he steps forward and removes his phone from my frozen fingers. Warmth migrates from where our hands touch, settling in my chest and lighting it on fire.
“A conversation,” he answers lightly, just as the crowd breaks into raucous cheering. On the field, Emmett is chest-bumped by some of his classmates for a play he just performed. Karsyn’s scowling from the sidelines, standing slightly apart from the rest of his teammates.
“When and where?” My voice trembles slightly, and his eyes sharpen at the sound.
“Erica’s Diner. Right after the game.” He leans closer until his presence overwhelms me, until I’m aware of nothing and no one but him, until he shrivels my lungs, making it so what little air they held, fled. Lucas fucking Scott.
He squeezes his eyes shut and runs his nose up the side of my cheek, inhaling deeply. I tense automatically, while simultaneously, butterflies take flight in my stomach. I make sure to spray poison on those incessant fuckers until they die.
“I’ll be waiting,” he purrs.
And then, like a sentient being of the night coming to steal my soul, he’s gone.
I can’t focus the rest of the game.
Not Mariabella’s inquisitive look at my extended absence. Not Helen’s worried hovering. Not even Emmett’s wide grin as he races over to me at the end of the game.
I have a feeling I’m walking to my execution, but I’ve run out of options. And for some reason, I think death by Lucas’s hand is the best way to go.
Mariabella doesn’t question me when I ask her to drop me off at Erica’s Diner, explaining that I have plans to meet Nana. Instead, she waves cheerfully, her earlier depressive fog nowhere to be seen, and promises to call me tomorrow.
My heart thrashes as I step inside the diner, checking the booths until I see Lucas’s sleek red hair.
“This isn’t the type of place I thought you would like,” I say in lieu of greeting as I slide in opposite him. Surprisingly, he has a burger and fries already in front of him, along with a chocolate shake. It’s not something I would’ve ever pictured the great Lucas Scott eating. He always seems so…refined, as if finger foods are beneath him.
“Do you still like chicken fingers and strawberry shakes?” he questions as soon as I’m fully seated. I raise my eyebrows at him inquiringly.
“Yes?” It comes out as a question. “How did you know?” I can’t keep the incredulity out of my voice.
Like before, he doesn’t immediately answer. He simply leans forward and places his wickedly luscious lips around the straw of his shake. My eyes are drawn to his throat as he swallows before I force myself to look away.
He pulls back, his slashing eyebrows drawn low over his sea-blue eyes. “I love this place,” he confesses, surprising me with the sheer randomness of his statement. “It’s a hidden gem. Not enough people eat here.”
I glance around at the ragtag diner. All of the booths are a hideous shade of bright red, while the floor is a checkered pattern of black and white tiles. There’s a long counter near the kitchen with over a dozen red stools, only a few of them currently occupied. The waitresses themselves wear ugly blue dresses and white aprons.
“But I take it you didn’t bring me here just to try their shakes,” I muse, but before Lucas can respond, a waitress arrives at our table carrying a plate of chicken tenders with French fries and a strawberry shake. It’s exactly what I would’ve ordered if I had done it myself.
And I hate it.
Hate him.
“I think this is the first time Luke over there ever brought a girl with him!” the waitress gushes. “You must be special.”
A petty part of me wants to complain and send the food back, but it’s not the staff’s fault that Lucas is a prick. A prick who happens to know my fucking food order.
Smiling cordially, I put a French fry in my mouth and bite down.
“Oh, I’m special all right,” I say, swallowing. “And Lucas is only just beginning to realize how much.”
The waitress titters before walking away to check on one of her other tables. And then it’s just Lucas and me.