Chapter Twenty-Four
Her shift at the store went exactly as it usually did. Avery sold the brooms on special, cleaned the aisle when Mrs. Ortecho dropped a bottle of paint remover, took payments, and wrote the receipts for the repair shop.
Everything was the same as it had always been. But everything was also so different. She had a boyfriend. One that made her feel amazing. One that she hadn’t dared think about. One that felt 99 percent perfect, and one percent dangerous. Every time he looked at her, her heart quickened and her whole body heated up from the inside out. It was a wholly new experience.
In comparison, Blaine had been the exact thing that he’d accused her of being: vanilla. She saw that now. To be fair, it was probably that she had been vanilla. Blaine just hadn’t evoked the same feelings inside that Lucas did. And it had probably been the same for him. She understood what it was supposed to feel like now. And she and Blaine together just hadn’t been it.
She allowed herself the luxury of dipping into her planner during the quiet moments. She checked no one was looking and put a heart sticker on the previous day’s page. Maybe she should put one on that day’s page, too—after all, they had a legit date tonight. She peeled off another heart and put it next to the entry “work” and above the entry “draft thesis for tomato study.”
The wind had really picked up by the time lunchtime came around. Avery liked the wind—it always felt like the old was being swept away to make room for the new. Especially in the early fall when the breeze was still warm. It felt right for that day. Out with the old, in with the new.
Just as her stomach started to rumble, Lucas came from the back. “Mr. Hardy said we could go for lunch,” he said with a grin.
“I’m starving,” she said. “You must be, too. We didn’t eat anything last night or this morning.”
He slid his arm around her as they walked out of the door. “Sometimes there are more important things to do than to eat breakfast,” he said as he kissed her temple and pulled her in tight.
A shiver of happiness went through her when she remembered what they’d been doing when they woke up instead of breakfast. “Truer words were never spoken,” she said, looking up at him.
“Watch out!” he said and yanked her against the window of the dry cleaner. The Van Sant Bakery sign advertising their lunch specials flew past them, bouncing along the ground in the wind.
“Holy crap!” Avery said. “We need to get that before it hits someone.”
“Stay here. I’ll get it.” Lucas ran back and picked up the blackboard as it blew against the traffic light pole outside Hardy’s.
Avery couldn’t believe how strong the wind had become since they arrived back in town. Hillside’s windstorms usually did nothing worse than spread tumbleweed across town. That’s why Mr. Hardy put out brooms. She was beginning to wonder if they should put out boards and nails for people’s windows. The sky was already getting dark. Could Mr. Hardy be wrong today? He had missed the downpour the other night.
Lucas hauled the sandwich sign back to the bakery and tugged it inside while Avery told Mrs. Van Sant what had happened.
“Mr. Hardy predicted another windstorm, so I should have known better than to not secure it,” she said. “Thank you.” And then her eyes widened as she looked at Lucas. “Lucas Black! I hear that you single-handedly propelled the Hammers toward the playoffs! Hey, everyone—look who’s here!” She pointed at Lucas.
Lucas looked deeply uncomfortable. “No, ma’am. It was a team effort. I couldn’t have done anything without Colin Stone’s skill, that’s for sure.”
But it was like no one listened. Mrs. Van Sant beamed as people clustered around him. Avery was thrilled to see people she’d known her whole life get up from their lunches and high-five Lucas and shake his hand and congratulate him. Until Billy Seymore got up and took his turn in congratulating him. What was he doing here?
“Congrats, son. You’re doing the Hammers proud,” he said, tipping his head to one side in a way that Avery thought was totally condescending. “You remind me of me at your age.”
…
Lucas all but recoiled at the words. Those were the very words that had gotten him into trouble to start with. The first guy who came around with his old weights set.
“Thank you, sir,” Lucas said blankly, shaking the offered hand and then immediately turning his back on him. “What do you want to eat?” he asked Avery.
“I’ll have a tuna melt, please,” she said to Mrs. Van Sant.
“I’ll have the same,” he added.
“It’s on the house,” Mrs. Van Sant said, casting a glance between him and Avery.
“No. It’s okay. I’ll pay.” Lucas took out a twenty dollar bill and laid it on the counter.
“Your money is no good here, Lucas Black. It’s on the house,” she said with a smile.
“No!” Lucas said loud enough for people to turn around. He lowered his voice. “Please. Let me pay.”
Avery had turned to him with a frown. “It’s okay, Lucas. Mrs. Van Sant—”
“I don’t want any free stuff, okay? Please. Take my money.” He knew he had gone off-the-charts rogue. People were looking at him, and he had no idea how he was going to explain his outburst to anyone, let alone Avery. “I’m…I’m sorry. I just…” He suddenly felt claustrophobic in the small bakery. It was too hot and too busy, and everyone was looking at him. “I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve got to…just…”
He had to get out of there or he would burst. He opened the door and walked a few paces back up toward Hardy’s. As soon as he was out of view, he stopped at the entrance to an alley and took a deep breath. Several of them.
What a fucking fiasco. What had he done? He’d been in such a good mood, and he’d blown it because nice people had offered him a sandwich. But he’d been on red alert when that guy told him that Lucas reminded him of himself, and then he’d thrown a kind gesture back in their faces. He was such a tool. And probably the kind of thing Coach had talked about when he’d gone to dinner at the Stones’ house. Shit. If what Coach had said was true—that people would talk about players’ bad behavior—he didn’t want to be known as the guy who freaked out at getting a free sandwich. It just cut a little too close to home.
He took out his phone to text Avery, to apologize and tell her that he’d see her back at the store, but before he had a chance to, his phone kicked up a notification from the Brady’s Balls Facebook page. He would have ignored it, but his freaking name was at the top of the post. “Lucas Black brings the Hammers home with a…” He crouched down with his back against the wall and clicked through to see what the post was. The rest of the headline was “victory.” The video was of him scoring his second touchdown. It had been a good one. He’d taken Avery’s advice and varied his speed through the open corridor to the end zone, tripping up three defenders, who he faked out with his speed changes.
He smiled and watched it again, his stress levels returning to normal.
Suddenly, Avery walked past the entrance to the alleyway. He jumped up.
“Hey. I’m sorry I freaked out. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “Thank you for lunch, though.” She held up a little paper bag in one hand and a fist of change with the other.
He pocketed the change. “Not sure why I suddenly took a strong position against free food,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders and falling into step beside her. “Who was that guy who said I reminded him of him?”
Avery nodded her head back toward Hardy’s, and they started to walk. “He’s a friend of Mr. Duchamp—the man who sponsors the Hammers. Billy Seymore?” She said the name as if it were a question. “What’s going on, Lucas? Are you okay? You know Mrs. Van Sant was only offering you a sandwich for bringing her sign back, right?”
Shit. He groaned inwardly. He was such an idiot.
“Yeah, I’m sorry.” He had to lie. “I just don’t like people looking at me. Being the center of attention. It freaks me out.” Instantly, the memory of him being carried around the football field by the players and coaches after winning the trophy flashed through his head. He had to stop lying. He was beginning to think that once one bad thing happened in your life, the more you covered it up, the more of a dick you became. He stopped in his tracks, hating himself.
“Can we agree not to talk about football tonight?” He dropped his arm from around her shoulders, hardly able to touch her while he was lying. “Let’s talk about anything else in the world, okay?” He knew she’d be happy at that, and he knew he was being deceitful.
“I’d like that,” she replied, searching his eyes for something he hoped she couldn’t see. He leaned down and kissed her.
Her hands went to the side of his face as she kissed him back with the reserve that was appropriate for being in the middle of Main Street. His knees felt weak anyway.
He pulled away, the need to apologize for anything and everything uppermost in his mind. Before he could say anything, thunder rumbled outside town.
“We should get back to the store,” Avery said with a frown. “It was just supposed to be another windstorm today, but this feels different.”
“Remember what happened last week, though? There was a windstorm first, and I definitely remember getting caught in the rain.” He grinned. “I’m actually one hundred percent okay with that happening again.”