Page 67 of A Totally Platonic Thing
My head whirling too, I forced myself off of Lucas’s bed and over to my own.
Aspirin soda first, even though it wouldn’t be fizzy anymore. And then coffee.
And then…I still didn’t know what, even though it looked like I’d be packing my things. That gave me a tremor of dread and horror and despair. Packing. My stuff. To leave Lucas, to leave this cozy little space that had beenoursfor years.
I’d be going to class no matter how sick I felt, and then I’d be going to Sebastian’s place, settling into his guest room, and…no Lucas.
The flat Alka-Seltzer still felt like it was doing me some good, so I kept sipping while Sebastian grumped around in my kitchen.
Sebastian would make me go to class. But wasn’t that the same as Lucas spanking me to show me the error of my ways? I shouldn’t need someone else to come in and solve my problems for me, or force me to do what I ought to be doing on my own. I shouldn’t have to go out clubbing and get super fucking drunk because I couldn’t stand being alone and making my own decisions for a few hours.
Come to think of it, maybe that Student Health counselor wasn’t the worst idea, because I didn’t want to have to lose the man I loved and suffer through a massive, like,devastatinghangover every time I wanted to have some kind of massive, devastating epiphany.
“I don’t need to pack very much,” I said quietly. Things didn’t make a home. Lucas did. I swallowed hard. “A few changes of clothes and the books I’m using for my classes.”
Sebastian nodded, and that seemed to be all there was to say about that.
Lucas didn’t want me anymore.
I’d brought it on myself.
And if I let myself cry anymore, I’d never stop.
Lucas
I slumped against the low wall between the lab building’s back walkway and the parking lot, rubbing my hands over my face. Beside me, Amanda lit a cigarette, barely pausing in the evil laughter that’d been bubbling out of her since Dr. Park had escorted the VP out a few minutes before.
If circumstances had been different, I’d have been laughing along with her.
“Oh, man,” Amanda said, blowing out a long stream of smoke. “I’m awesome. How awesome am I, Lucas? On a scale of one to a million. I’m thinking about a billion.”
“A billion and one,” I said. And I meant it. But my voice still had all the energy of a ten-year-old cell phone battery.
Amanda sighed gustily. “Oh, come on,” she said. “You basically have a guaranteed job when you graduate. You’re taking me out to dinner at that fancy restaurant by the beach with your first paycheck. Probably your entire first paycheck, since the appetizers are like fifty dollars. And I deserve it!”
She did deserve it. She’d blown into the lab at ten minutes to eight that morning, way too bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and grinned at me in a way that promised trouble.
And she’d delivered. While I frantically got my new shambles of a project organized as best I could, she took away my previous work, laid it out on a table, and fiddled with it, mumbling to herself and occasionally chuckling.
Weird, but I didn’t have the energy or the time to question her.
The other students with projects to show off were all there too, anyway, doing their own final touches. We couldn’t really talk.
When Dr. Park brought in our visitor, I’d been beaded with sweat, red-faced, and barely able to stay on my feet.
They stopped at Amanda’s table first. Amanda’s table, where she didn’t have her own work on display—just mine.
Dr. Park’s face went red enough to almost make me smile. Almost, because I didn’t think anything could make me smile.
All right, I smiled a little when Amanda soaked up the visitor’s praise and then proudly told him how this was my previous work, and that I’d built something even more innovative to show off myself.
Basically, she turned herself into my Vanna White.
It was the coolest, most creative, most selfless, and most diabolical thing I’d ever witnessed.
Dr. Park was left with egg on his face, and the VP spent more time chatting with me than with anyone else. The fact that he complimented Dr. Park for encouraging me to do two amazing projects instead of one only made it better, somehow.
“I owe you more than dinner,” I told her. “I can’t believe you didn’t even present your own work. You did so much this quarter.”
