I looked up at him, his face filled with desire as he bit his lip. I placed both of my hands at his base, swallowing my vomit in my throat and pretending to enjoy it as much as he was.
He wouldn’t be the only one lying this time.
When we were done, we fell back on my bed together, our bodies slick with sweat. Lucas was tired, already yawning as his head hit the pillow.
“I should probably head home,” he whispered, one eye closed. His hand gripped my breast possessively.
I threw a leg over him. “I wish you’d stay.”
He gave a lopsided grin. “Then your wish is my command.” I ran a hand through his hair, playing with it gently as he began to doze off. I’d always believed his face was especially handsome in the moonlight, moody and dark, all sharp angles and shadows. His grip on my breast loosened within minutes, and I heard his breathing begin to slow. I continued to rub his head, feeling his warm breath against my face, and I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
I wanted to be sure he was good and asleep before I dared move. There was no risk of me falling asleep as my mind raced. When an hour had passed without him moving, I slid his arm off my body and waited to see if he’d move. When he still didn’t, I eased myself away from him, off the side of the bed, and then onto the floor. I crawled across my floor, the hardwood painful on my knees. When I made it to his pants, still on the floor where we’d left them, I pulled his phone free, turning down the brightness before I did anything else. I unlocked the phone and clicked on the app store button, searching for tracking apps. I couldn’t remember the app my friend had used, but the first result seemed like it would work. I downloaded the app, watching as the purple icon appeared on his screen, and created an account for him. Then, I hid the app in a junk folder with a few of his other useless apps. I placed it somewhere in the middle of the apps, sure he’d never notice it there. Lastly, I sent myself a text message invite to join his circle, closed out of the app and locked his phone back, sliding it back into his pocket.
I stood, tiptoeing across the room and lifting my phone from the nightstand. I followed the same steps, downloading the app, and confirmed that I’d like to be in his circle. When I stared down at the final screen, we were two small circles, side by side at my address.
Next time I sent a picture, I’d know exactly where he was.
Next time he lied, I’d know the truth.
Chapter Nineteen
Naomi
Lucas arrived home an hour before our scheduled Sunday dinner with my parents. He hurried in the door, threw a hand over his head in a brief wave, and called out, “Sorry, I know I’m late. Surgery ran long. Be right back.”
He rushed up the stairs, and I listened as his footsteps grew fainter. I turned to face Becca, waiting patiently at the table, and patted her seat. “Go ahead and get in your seat, sweet girl. I’ve got your plate ready. Grandma and Grandpa will be here soon.”
She climbed up in the chair and I pushed it in and moved her plate toward her just as my phone chimed from across the room. I hurried over to where I’d laid it near the stove, lifting it and turning back to face Becca so I could keep an eye on her as she took a bite of her spanakopita.
The text was from my father.
Running late, sweetheart. We’ll try to be there as soon as we can. You may have to start dinner without us. I’ll let you know if we won’t make it. Xx.
I groaned, laying the phone down. It wasn’t the first time they’d been late or failed to show up at all to a dinner we’d scheduled, and as they were preparing to travel to Bora Bora the next day, this was my last chance to see them for at least a month. Lucas entered the room, and I glanced up. He’d changed into more casual clothes, his polo tucked into khaki slacks, his hair brushed, and his tennis shoes traded for Doc Martens.
“How was work?” I asked, walking forward as he moved to approach me. He kissed my hairline, just above my ear, gripping my arm.
“Fine. I got put on a last-minute surgery that had some complications, which is why I’m late. I was worried I wouldn’t beat your parents here.”
I sighed, leading the way toward the table. “Well, they’re running late apparently, so there was no rush.”
His face fell. “Running late? Sweetheart, you worked so hard on all of this.”
I nodded but didn’t speak. He was right. I hadn’t gone through this much trouble for a dinner in so long, but it had been years since we hosted my parents and I wanted them to be impressed. I hated that I felt that way. Like I needed to impress them or earn their approval. I’d worked so hard to build a life they were proud of, and still, they had so much power over me.
“It’s almost too beautiful to eat,” he said, eyeing the lamb on the platter in front of his seat.
“Well, thank you,” I said, “but they said we should start without them, so I’m afraid it’ll just be us who sees it.”
“And me!” Becca cried gleefully.
“And you,” I agreed, patting her arm.
He sank into his chair, staring at me. “We could wait…”
Becca took a bite of her food, chewing. She put another piece in her mouth, and I reached for her fork, much to her dismay. “Slow down, baby. One bite at a time or you’ll choke.”
“I won’t choke,” she argued.
Lucas laughed. “Well, someone’s appreciating your food.”
I offered a sad smile. “You’re right.” I lifted the knife, slicing us each a chunk of meat and placing them on our plates, then I added spanakopita next to the meat. Last, I put a scoop of salad on each of the plates and sighed. “Dig in, I suppose.”
He reached across the table and took my hand, surprising me. “I’m sorry, babe. This is great. They’re missing out.” He seemed, like me, to already assume they weren’t going to be showing up, further proof we’d done this song and dance before.
“Thanks,” I said, taking a small bite of my lamb. I hated how pitiful I felt, how insignificant they could make me feel. It was only Lucas who saw it, but he understood better than anyone. Parents had never been our specialty. It was why we fit together so well. We understood each other in a way no person with a functional family could. Though our traumas were different, both our upbringings had damaged us beyond repair.
His finger rubbed across my knuckles. “It’ll be okay. Once they’re gone again, things’ll be back to normal.”
I looked at him, cocking my head to the side. “Is normal what we’re striving for?”
He moved his hand back, taking a bite of salad. “Hm?”
“I mean, I know my parents being home adds a bit of stress to our lives, but even when they aren’t here…do you think what we have is…I mean, are we good? Is this good?”
He scoffed, though his gaze was far-off, and he glanced around the room like someone was playing a prank on him. “Where is this coming from?”
“I just wondered, I guess. It feels like things have been so weird between us lately. I know you’re working so much, and I don’t blame you for that, I just…” I trailed off, unsure of where I was going or how to say what I truly wanted to say. It felt like we’d fallen apart. Like we were roommates, business associates who shared a bed but not much else. I had no idea what he did during the day anymore, though he used to share so much with me. “It feels like everything has changed.”