Page 29 of One Shot

He clears his throat and says, “Let me build on your idea.”

He grabs another box from the other side of the gym and places it on the other side of the bench. Two boxes? Seriously. Why did I not think of that?

“Here, put both feet on the boxes so you’re more stable. Try it.”

I climb up on the box, this time placing one foot on each box instead of the bench. My feet are perfectly stable, and I have ample room.

“Genius, thank you. I really didn’t want to try this again with any of the players in the real photoshoot and end up falling on them. Especially because it will likely be Mitchell. I barely know him.”

“You don’t want to know him. Stay away from Blaine Mitchell. He’s bad news.” He growls with angst at the mentionof Mitchell.

“I’m taking photos of the entire team. No big deal. But thanks to you I won’t have to worry about accidentally straddling him.”

His shoulders and back tense. The beautiful gold fades away with his frustration, leaving pure brown in Lucas’ eyes. He’s not messing around.

“Like I said, Mitchell is bad news.”

“I know, I know. I’m not interested, don’t worry.”

“Good. Glad I could at least help with the setup to make it easier on you.” His shoulders shift into a more relaxed position.

Under his breath he mutters, “You can accidentally straddle me anytime, but I will strangle Blaine Mitchell if he touches you.”

I’m not sure if I was supposed to hear that. I’m also not sure why I’m so turned on by his possessiveness and protectiveness. Lucas and I are firmly friend-zoned.

I’m still overthinking what he just said when Lucas asks, “Locker room next?”

“Yes, I’m going to grab a Diet Coke from the vending machine first. Want anything?”

“No, thanks.”

I’m hoping the Diet Coke will relax my nerves and comfort me a little bit. I head into the locker room. Shit, what if he’s changing? I should have announced I was coming in.

He’s still in those sweatpants and shirtless, standing next to a locker. All the lockers have the players numbers and names on them. The last time I was in here, he was on the other side of the locker room. Whose locker is he by now if it’s not his?

He hears me walking closer and turns his head.

“This was Nick’s locker. We never let anyone take over the space.”

I’m standing next to him now. The number 88 and Bellinger engraved on a wood plaque are starting to fade above the cubby. I take a deep sigh without even noticing.

“It must be really hard on you to be at West without him.” Lucas’s voice is low, hushed. It’s filled with sympathy and compassion. I’ve never seen this side of him before.

“It is. Life is hard without him.” I fight back tears with each word that comes out of my mouth.

“You’re strong. He would be proud of you.”

“Oh.”

That’s a weird thing for him to say. Does he even have the right to say that? Why does him saying Nick would be proud of me upset me so much? How well did he even know Nick? He must sense something in my voice or in my expression. Lucas is answering my questions before I can even start asking them.

“I played with Nick, but not as much as I wanted to. We were on different lines, but I idolized him. I remember the first home game when I was a freshman. Before the game, Nick was so excited and talking about how his biggest fan was coming. I remember seeing a girl taking photos at the game, and it seemed like she was only taking photos of Nick. When he said biggest fan, I assumed it was a girlfriend, but Nick never talked about a girlfriend. It was you.”

Lucas’ eyes are fixed on me, as I look up to meet his gaze. The pure brown eyes of anguish are gone. Only soft, kind golden eyes meet my teary eyes.

“You were the pretty brunette taking pictures during that game and all the other home games that season. Weren’t you?”

Tears start to flow, and I can’t seem to speak. I just nod. I was wrong. He did know Nick, and he does have the right to say Nick would be proud of me. I clear my throat and wipe the tears that made their way down my cheeks.

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