My Lucky Days: A Novel (16 page)

A guy with a baseball cap pulled low over his head made eye contact with me, but quickly looked in the opposite direction before his face could betray his secrets. A hangover. A breakup. A late night of studying after he worked two jobs to pay for school. Or maybe it was deeper and darker. Maybe he had spent the entire Thanksgiving break here alone and this was his first time around people again.

My phone buzzed in my coat pocket. I pulled it out, seeing Lucky’s name on the screen. I smiled as I opened the message. Reading his words, I felt the first bit of warmth this morning, making the blues roll away in the wind.

L
UCKY:
Good morning, beautiful.

M
E:
It’s lunchtime.

L
UCKY:
Maybe for you. But not for me. I didn’t go to sleep until 3. Are you busy?

And as we morphed into our typical texting banter, I forgot the rest of the world. I forgot the chilly wind. I disappeared into my own secrets.

M
E:
No. Waiting for Peyton outside the student union.

L
UCKY:
It’s cold. You should go inside.

M
E:
5 more minutes. And I’m wearing a coat.

L
UCKY:
What kind of coat?

M
E:
One with a hood.

L
UCKY:
The dark blue one?

M
E:
Yes.

L
UCKY:
You have a sweater on too?

M
E:
A gray one. Why?

L
UCKY:
So blue coat. Gray sweater. What else?

M
E:
What are you doing?

L
UCKY:
Just trying to picture you in my head. I see a pissed-off frown because Peyton is late again. And your cheeks are red because it’s cold. But your pretty green eyes are the only thing people really see. Because once you see them. You can’t look away. I know. Because I can’t.

My fingers froze as I read his words. I glanced up, seeing everyone walking past me, letting the world back in. Contrary to his beliefs, they were not looking. But I knew if Lucky were standing in front of me, he would be looking. And from hundreds of miles away, he was still looking.

M
E:
You’re sweet.

L
UCKY:
You think I’m sweet? What else do you think?

I laughed to myself.

M
E:
Stop fishing for compliments.

L
UCKY:
You didn’t answer. Gray sweater. What else?

M
E:
What? Jeans?

L
UCKY:
What’s under the gray sweater?

M
E:
Um me?

L
UCKY:
No wonder you’re cold. Nothing but a sweater.

M
E:
Lucky!

L
UCKY:
You said it.

M
E:
Are you implying I went to class without a bra?

L
UCKY:
Now we are getting somewhere. So what color is this bra?

I shook my head, knowing I had fallen right into that one. His question made me pause for a second before I slowly typed the response.

M
E:
White.

L
UCKY:
Lace or no lace?

M
E:
Lace.

L
UCKY:
See-through lace or just at the top?

I read the text twice. I didn’t do this sort of thing. Or at least, I had never talked with a guy like this before. My time with Chase had been with the lights out—especially sex. He didn’t even want a lamp on in the room. Or maybe that was me? More like something just assumed between us—I think. It’s not like Chase had ever asked. He wasn’t much into verbal conversations about sex. And never typed words.

Typed words made things seem more real. Visual thoughts on screen. Thoughts left out in the open for someone to go back and read later. And fret. And worry.

I swallowed hard, typing an answer back to Lucky.

M
E:
Both.

L
UCKY:
Just so you know. I’m smiling right now. Gray sweater. See-through bra. Do your panties match?

I sucked in a gasp, feeling a little naked even though I was bundled up with a hood and gloves while sitting on a cold public bench. Glancing back to the sidewalk in front of me, everyone seemed to be minding their own business.

Secrets. Everyone had them. People typing away on their phones as the world remained oblivious to the words being passed back and forth right in front of them.

L
UCKY:
Too far?

I wasn’t sure if it was too far or not. What if he kept going and started talking about more than just clothes? And what if I liked it? What exactly would that mean?

M
E:
No.

M
E:
Wait. I mean no. To the first question.

M
E:
Wait. I don’t know. Maybe no to both.

L
UCKY:
I’m laughing right now. And imagining you in see-through panties.

M
E:
Stop!

L
UCKY:
Stop laughing or stop imagining you in lace panties? Because you look pretty hot. I might have to touch them.

My gloved fingers gripped my little cell phone as a deep flush went up my neck. I reminded myself, it was just a game. A harmless phone game. And I took a deep breath and responded.

M
E:
Why do you want to touch them?

L
UCKY:
So I can take them off.

My heart was beating even faster. I glanced up, seeing a couple of girls in sorority sweatshirts walk by on the sidewalk and I looked back at his words on my phone.

M
E:
But I would be cold.

L
UCKY:
Not the way I’m imagining this.

I laughed to myself.

M
E:
Would you keep me warm?

L
UCKY:
Yes. If you were naked, I’d keep you warm. I’d touch you with my hands. And my lips. I’d kiss you in places you’ve never been kissed.

My hand flew up to my lips in shock as my face turned five shades of red. But I read the message again, feeling my body respond to his words.

M
E:
Where is that?

L
UCKY:
Do you really want me to tell you?

“I’m here. I’m here.” Startled, I looked up as Peyton came stumbling up to the bench.

I typed a quick
Gotta go
as I fumbled to click the screen closed on my phone.

She studied me for a second as a big smile broke out on her face. “Whatcha doing?”

“Nothing. Let’s go eat. I’m craving carbs.”

“You’re craving something, but I don’t think it’s a loaf of bread.”

As her laughter drifted off in the wind, I knew my face must have failed to hide any of my secrets. “It’s okay, Katie. So what? You talk dirty with him sometimes.”

“I wasn’t talking dirty with him.”

“Maybe not
my
version of dirty.” She smiled, the cold making her freckles more vibrant across her cheeks. “But I could give you some pointers. He won’t know what hit him.”

“Thanks, but I’m good.” I shook my head, knocking my hood off, causing the cold air to swirl down my neck.

“All right, but let me know if you want me to write some stuff down.” She looked off in the distance. “Maybe that’s what I should do. Become a sex therapist. I could set my own hours. You know, I’m not even sure I like kids. Snot dripping out of their noses and shit. And I’m sure they will make us stand out there for recess duty too. Kill me. This would be
waaay
better. Put my expertise to good use. Do you think people would pay for something like that?”

I rolled my eyes. “No.”

“I could totally practice on you. You could be my first patient.”

“Stop!” I gave her a warning glare.

“Okay, but—”

“Come on. I want pasta. And garlic cheese bread.” I grabbed her by the arm, pulling her up from the bench.

She giggled as we walked down the sidewalk. “And that very reason is why I love you more than Skylar.”

“My love for you is debatable right now.” But my words only made her laugh harder.

T
he next day moved at the speed of molasses. I came home from class and cleaned the entire kitchen. Then the bathroom. I mopped the floor twice since the new cleaner left streaks. After wiping the baseboards down with Murphy’s Oil, I took a shower and removed all traces of the dirt and sweat.

I dried my hair, letting it hang long down my back and threw on a T-shirt with a gray pair of yoga pants. Carrying my box of candles into the living room, I sat down on the couch next to Peyton.

She gave me a side glance as she fiddled with her shoe. “Don’t get those out. Come to Dusty’s with us.”

“I’m tired.”

“You’re obsessing. The house smells like three kinds of Pine-Sol. And it’s just going to get worse if you stay here.”

“I’m fine.” I blew a strand of hair out of my eyes. “Okay. Maybe. I am. Just a little.”

“You think?” Peyton laughed as she continued to use a rag to wipe mud off of her tan, spiked, high-heel pumps. “Shit. This is stuck on here like glue. Maybe it is glue. I have no freaking idea what this is. Can you tell?”

“Gross, Peyton.” I scrambled to move away as she shoved the nasty shoe in my face. “Get back.”

“Geez. Don’t get testy. It’s just a little glue.”

“That is not glue. It’s probably dried vomit. Or blood. That looks like blood.” I wrapped the blanket around me a little tighter as I perched on the arm of the couch.

“Wait. I know what this is.” She jumped up and went over to the sink, grabbing the dish scrubber. “I wore these over to that guy Christopher’s house. It’s dog crap. He had some horse-looking thing that left landmines in the backyard. I rinsed them off at his house, but I guess I didn’t get it all.”

My stomach flipped a bit. Peyton proceeded to lather her tan pump with the object that touched all of our glasses and plates. I would need to throw that away after she left.

I couldn’t watch the zombie apocalypse taking place in the kitchen. Settling back down on the couch, I looked in the opposite direction, which gave me a full view of the clock. It was almost ten.

Peyton came back over to the couch and sat down. She slipped her fire-engine-red toes inside the clean shoes. Standing up, she locked her knees and held her back straight as she adjusted to the odd angle of her foot. Chin up. Chest out. I’d watched her performance a hundred other nights.

“Want me to drop you off so you don’t have to walk over there?” I suggested.

“No. I want you to go with us.” Her glossy lips turned into a slight pout. “Now that you’re dating Lucky, you won’t do anything fun.”

“Nice try, but you know I’ve never been the fun roommate.”

“Okay, fine.” She turned her head toward the hallway and shouted, “
Skylar!
Get your ass out here. Katie’s driving us.”

Skylar came into the living room in a dress that could be on the runway at New York Fashion Week instead of Dusty’s. Who knows—maybe it would be one day.

“Get together. I’ll take your picture.” I smiled at my roommates. They looked really good tonight. Both of them.

Peyton was about five inches shorter than Skylar, even with those killer heels. They struck a funny pose with pouty model lips, making me laugh as I snapped a few pictures on my cell phone.

“Come on. Get in here with us.” Peyton grabbed my hand, pulling me between them.

Skylar held the phone back since she had the longest arms. Three faces with wide smiles filled the screen as the camera clicked away.

“I’ll grab my keys,” I said, running to my room.

I threw a coat over my T-shirt before following my glittery roommates out the door. They actually sparkled. Peyton had coated herself with iridescent perfume.