the edge of the bed, and I move my feet, curling them up toward me as I bring myself to a sitting position.
He just stares at me, and I grow tired. “I’m about to start homework, so if you wouldn’t mind—”
“Fucking off?” he asks.
I smile tightly. “You got it.”
“The thing is, I don’t want to fuck off, Dakota.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out. “You look like you need a friend, and well, I’m here.” He cringes. “Jesus. Is this the Dr. Phil show? Is he even on TV anymore?”
I give him a dead stare.
“I’m just saying,” he says almost in exasperation. “None of us knew how bad it was. If we had, we would’ve—”
“We would’ve what?” I snap. “I’m not your responsibility. I’m not anyone’s responsibility. I don’t need to be taken care of, and I certainly don’t want to be treated like a porcelain doll.”
“I think you just scared us down there, that’s all.”
“Scared you?” I laugh. It’s caustic and bitter, and I know it makes me sound about as desperate as I feel, which I hate. “Just leave, Lucas.”
He moves, but he doesn’t leave. He pulls himself back to the wall, leaning against it with his feet outstretched over the foot of the bed. Crossing his arms over his chest, he just lazes there, staring ahead. “I remember when I first saw you,” he says eventually. “You were dressed like a boy. I swear if it weren’t for your messy pigtails, I might have actually thought you were one.”
He grins, and I happen to peek in time to enjoy it. It’s boyish and throws Lucas into a whole different time of life. One where there’s no weight on his shoulders or worries over his head. I hadn’t realized how much he was holding in until I saw his innocence.
“We weren’t allowed to talk to you, of course, but when I asked about you, Stone told me who you were. We were at some Clary field days or something. It had something to do with treasure, I remember that. You had your hand wrapped around your daddy’s so tightly. Your eyes were big and round, staring at all the people, like you’d never seen that many in your life. Like you never even knew that many existed.” Lucas swallows and looks at me. “So, no, Dakota, I’m not going to leave. Because you need to know that people exist. That not everyone out there thinks you and your dad are crazy. We don’t all despise you. We don’t all think you’re scum or want to torment you because you grew up differently. Hell, if you stick around long enough. You might even realize that we all grew up differently.”
I suck in a breath at the raw honesty of his words. I don’t remember seeing him, but I remember the Gold Festival Clary used to put on. It was one of the only times I was allowed to go into town with Dad, so I can surmise that what he’s saying is true. I remember feeling lost in a sea of people. Honestly, crowds still get me sometimes. I bite the inside of my cheek as a happier memory churns just under the surface. “My dad was always really bad at doing my hair.”
Lucas grins, and it’s absolutely stunning in a way because he’s not trying. Stone walks around like he knows he’s gorgeous. Wyatt, too, has that whole cowboy thing going for him, but Lucas? He’s a sleeper. But when you really see him, you fall down the rabbit hole of his good looks, wanting to sink deeper and deeper.
We just sit there for quite some time, neither of us saying anything. We’re both wrapped in different worlds, an eye to the past. A few times, I peek at him to wonder what’s plaguing him. When I was little and saw people, I used to make up their life stories. With Lucas, it seems wrong to do that. I don’t want to mess with whatever his true story is because I bet it’s far different than anything I could even imagine.
Eventually, I pull out my Lit textbook to do some reading. Lucas leaves for a couple of minutes and comes back with his own books. We sit there quietly, each doing our own schoolwork until he receives a text. I’m so engrossed in the story, reading past where I’m supposed to have read that the buzzing of Lucas’s phone makes me jump. “Sorry,” he says.