Page 93 of Be Your Anything
I destroyed him today.
Absolutely demolished him.
Swept. The. Damn. Floor.
It wasn’t evencloseto being close.
“Gloating isn’t attractive,” he says, “but I’ll give you this one pass because you look so cute in that stupid outfit.”
We walk into the clubhouse and head straight for the bar, choosing to sit on the stools and face the bartender rather than grab one of the few open tables.
“It’s busy.”
Lucas nods. “Yeah, Saturdays are usually this way, but I think the golf tournament next weekend is part of it.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. I feel like I’ve gotten a million emails about it, and my cycling instructor keeps talking about her husband and how he’s one of the contenders.”
Lucas looks at me. “It’s so funny that you come here on a regular basis. I do, too, but I’ve never talked to you about it or seen you here.”
I lift a shoulder and pull my drink forward. “Well, maybe we can meet up and work out together.” Then I grin. “Or we can always go out for another round of golf.”
He groans and I bask in his misery.
Golfing is one of those activities my grandfather always insisted I should know even though I thought it was worthless. Now, as an adult, seeing how often rich men are on the green, I can understand his perspective, even if I still don’t think it will ever apply to me.
But as I hit each ball today, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit thankful that, even though my dad always seems to let me down, I had a man in my life who thought it was important to teach me what I needed to know.
Plus, the amount of pleasure that shot through me at seeing Lucas’ stunned impression was enough to make those hundreds of hours of golf lessons worth it.
After we finish our drink, we decide to eat lunch, grabbing a table.
And then we spend two hours eating and talking about life.
He asks me all about Brown, every dirty detail, making sure to ask specifics about my costumes.
I tell him about how horrific some of the girls were, but how wonderful my friend Melanie was. How drunk I got during rush week and how I subsequently slept through my very first test. About the boys I dated here and there and how I mostly just flirted instead of seeing anyone.
“Does it make me an asshole to say I’m jealous of all those guys?” he says, leaning back in his chair, his eyes watching me with an intensity I’m not familiar with. “To know they got to experience a part of you that’s different than the Lennon I know?”
I tap a finger against the white linen, considering him for a second before answering.
“I don’t think you’re an ass,” I finally reply. “But I have to wonder…how you can say something like that, or feel that way, about afriend.”
It feels bold to say something like that to Lucas.
It’s the first time I’ve pushed against this boundary that exists, the one that declares us as friends because he’s in a relationship with Remmy.
Maybe it’s unfair of me to push like that. Maybe it’s selfish, too.
But nothing about this situation is fair—to either of us, or to Remmy—and even though I want Lucas to get to know me, I know my true interest isn’t in being his friend. It isn’t in letting him see the soft, vulnerable side of me just to have him plunge his hand in and rip my heart out.
“Lennon,” he starts, his eyes searching mine. “I—”
“Lucas?”
I look over my shoulder, my entire body freezing when I see the woman looking at us from the doorway of the dining room dressed in a workout top and skirt, a tennis bag slung over her arm.
“Mariana,” he says, smiling and standing from the table, stepping away as she gets closer.
