Page 23 of Drum Me Away
I grimaced. I could admit to myself that I wanted my friends here in my time of need. But as much as my mother annoyed the hell out of me, I did not want to cause her undue stress while she said her final goodbyes to her own mother.
“Maybe it’s best if—”
“Do not suggest they not come,” Lucas said. “Do not alienate your friends like that.”
I dropped my chin, which normally caused my hair to fall in a wave and obscure my face, except I had twisted my locks into a braid last night. God, had it only been last night? On one hand, it felt like a month had passed since that voicemail shattered my life; on the other, I half expected Grandma to call and say, “Just kidding, I’m here!”
Clearing my throat, I said, “Do you think… Do you think they’d all dress, you know, normal? Just for the funeral?”
“I think they—we—will do whatever you need us to do.”
Willing a fresh waves of tears away, I mumbled, “Thanks.”
Lucas stood, sweeping my empty plate out of my hands. “I’m going to go clean up, and then I’m hitting the sack. Will you be okay for a few hours?”
Again, I wanted to ask him why he was being so nice to me. But that might remind him of my faux pas in assuming he had a girlfriend—which had its own set of questions begging for answers—and I wasn’t keen on embarrassing myself further at the moment.
“I’ll help,” I said instead. When we first moved in together, we shared responsibilities like cooking and cleaning up afterward. Somewhere along the line, we’d simply stopped cooking together—or for each other. I started ordering those pre-made meals or eating out more frequently or, my personal favorite, showing up on Matt and Angel’s or Ice’s doorsteps right at dinnertime. I was pretty sure Lucas waited until I had already eaten or wasn’t around before he made himself meals.
It hadn’t felt like a calculated move on either party’s part; it was simply something that happened over the course of time. Like realizing an old but favorite pair of shoes were worn out and opting for a new style as a replacement.
This morning, here in this treehouse, with my grandmother’s funeral looming, I suddenly almost desperately missed those meals we used to share, those chores we used to split between us. I missed laughing and joking with someone who at one point had been one of my best friends.
Neither of us spoke much while we cleaned. Lucas was probably just trying to get through it so he could crash. Despite enjoying his presence, I tried to shoo him away—putting the kitchen to rights after a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs wasn’t exactly a challenge—but he insisted on helping, claiming it was his mess.
Personally, I was content to go through the motions, not talk, lost in my own thoughts, even though those thoughts all revolved around him.
And the fact that he didn’t have a girlfriend.
And those kisses that felt more and more real each time my lips pressed against his. I knew that was largely my own fault, because somewhere along the line, theyhadbecome real.
But I’d been operating under the assumption that he had someone waiting in the wings, so whatever this little ploy was, there couldn’t possibly be anything behind it except following Dahlia’s instructions to help ensure Lucas and I could fake break up without our fans believing the band would be destroyed as a result.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Lucas said, and I blinked. What was he talking about?
“Are you going to be okay alone for a few hours while I catch some shut-eye?” he asked.
“Oh.” I shook my head but then quickly nodded. “Yes, I’ll be fine. I may try to sleep as well. Those little catnaps I had on the plane and in the car weren’t exactly refreshing.”
He didn’t look as if he believed me.
“Seriously, I’m fine. If I start to feel like I’m about to melt into a puddle of goo, I’ll come wake you up.”
He pointed at the door to his bedroom. “I’ll be right here if you need me. Don’t hesitate. Got it?”
I gave him a mock salute, which pulled out a smirk before he finally turned away from me and disappeared into his bedroom.
Leaving me alone with my thoughts.
CHAPTER9
Lucas
Spendinga good chunk of your life on the road meant it wasn’t unusual to wake up in a strange room, a strange bed. Even on those sleep-deprived mornings after partying too hard the night before, I didn’t wonder, “Where the hell am I?”
I figured I was supposed to be there, wherever “there” was.
Today was different, probably because I wasn’t in a hotel suite and I didn’t hear any of the usual sounds: no water running somewhere, no feet clomping down the hall, no traffic zooming by on the road outside.
