17 - Haley
17
Haley
I typed a message on my phone, then deleted it.
What else could I say to my ex?
I wasn’t even sure why I texted him in the first place about Jordan. Maybe it was some latent motherly instinct to let Bran’s biological father know that he was going to start playing baseball. Driven by the guilt of never even telling Lucas the truth about his son.
Maybe it was just because it felt nice to get back in touch with an old friend.
Except Lucas and I were never really friends. We’d dated for six months, and stopped talking once we broke up. We hooked up one more time when I was home for winter break, but that was it. He moved out to Detroit right after that, and we didn’t have any contact until he moved back into town two weeks ago.
But after seeing him again, all those old feelings had come flooding back. A lot of it was lust, driven by the night of fun we’d had with his two friends. Our chemistry was still there, even after all this time.
Was there more than that, though? Sexual chemistry was great, but it wasn’t the most important thing I was looking for in a relationship. I needed a real life partner, someone to be a father for Bran.
I still doubted that Lucas could step into that role.
And even if he could, he probably wouldn’t forgive me for hiding the truth from him all this time.
I forgot all about it the next day while driving a newlywed couple around town, showing them a variety of houses for sale. They had no idea what they wanted, which made my job frustrating. First they insisted they needed a back yard for their dog, but then they changed their mind and wanted to see a studio condo the size of a shoebox.
When those showings were over, I stopped by a grocery store down near the river. It was a quick trip to get Bran more fruit snacks and toaster waffles—he’d become obsessed with using the toaster lately, and demanded waffles for breakfast every morning.
After filling my basket with a few other household items I needed, I headed for the checkout lines. And as I turned down the main aisle, I nearly ran into another shopper.
“Sorry—” I began to say, but then did a double-take.
Lucas?
He was just as surprised as I was, dark eyes widening at first, then narrowing in recognition. “Look who it is.”
Lucas was dressed in a way that I had never seen before: a maroon polo shirt tucked into dress slacks. His brown belt even matched his leather shoes. All of that combined with the tattoo sleeve running down his arm to create a complex, sexy image of a man.
He looked good .
“If I didn’t know any better,” I teased, “I’d say you were stalking me.”
He chuckled and said, “I work two blocks from here. I’ve started getting groceries on my lunch break. I should accuse you of stalking. Don’t you live up in Rose Village?”
“This isn’t my usual grocery store,” I admitted. “I was down here showing homes to a newlywed couple. Wait, how do you know I live in Rose Village?”
“You sent me your Uber information, to make sure you got home safe,” he said awkwardly. “The night you… came over to my place.”
The night I went over to his place . That was certainly one way to describe what had happened. “Right. Sorry. Didn’t mean to imply that you really were stalking me.”
He shrugged. “Nothing wrong with being paranoid. Now, it would be real stalker behavior if I said you live in a three bedroom, two bath house, with purple curtains in the windows.”
I snickered at him. “Actually, I live in the apartment above my sister’s garage.”
“Ah, damn,” Lucas smirked. “It would’ve been funny if I guessed that right.”
I fell in next to him as we walked toward the checkout lines. Searching for something to say to fill the awkward silence, I glanced at the basket in his hand. “Bell peppers? Onions? Dry pasta? Did you steal someone else’s basket, Lucas Hollister?”
“I meal prep all of my lunches,” he explained. “Saves a lot of money, and it’s healthier in the long run.”
“Look at you,” I said appraisingly. “The Lucas I used to know ate McDonald’s for almost every single meal.”
“Right?” he said with a proud smile. “I’m practically an adult, now!”
We laughed and got in line at the Express Checkout counter. He gestured for me to go first, so I started placing items on the conveyor belt.
“I like the new adult look, too,” I said, tugging on the sleeve of his polo. “Doesn’t it get dirty at your job, though?”
“What do you mean?”
I frowned. “Aren’t you a mechanic?”
He chuckled. “God, no. I work with cars, but not like that.”
Before I could ask him more about his job, the cashier loudly cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, but you have too many items. This is the ten-or-fewer line.”
“What? I only have…” I scanned the belt and winced. I had fifteen items. I’d mentally counted the five boxes of fruit snacks as a single item.
“Sorry,” I said, glancing behind Lucas at the other people in line. I was usually a stickler for rules like this, and felt embarrassed to be breaking them. Especially in front of Lucas.
Before I could collect my items and move to a different line, Lucas moved the plastic barrier that separated our purchases. “I only have five items. I’ll get these.”
“You don’t have to do that…” I began, but he only shook his head. The cashier was already scanning and bagging my other ten items, so I didn’t protest any further.
“Thanks,” I said sheepishly.
“You always hated relying on other people,” Lucas said with a knowing smile. “It’s kind of nice knowing some things haven’t changed.”
Still reeling with embarrassment, I paid for my groceries and hurried outside. I lingered by the door until Lucas emerged a few minutes later, holding out a bag.
“Your fruit snacks,” he said. “And I’m definitely not judging you for eating snacks meant for a child.”
I stuck out my tongue at him. “They’re for my son, Bran.”
Lucas blinked. “Ah, right.”
It was obvious that he had forgotten I even had a son. His son.
“I don’t have any cash on me, can I Venmo you?” I asked.
Lucas hesitated. An expression fell across his dark features, one I recognized from when we were teenagers. He always looked that way when he wanted to ask me something, but knew I might say no.
Then, with an ease and confidence that was totally un like the Lucas Hollister I remembered, he said, “Let me buy you lunch and we’ll call it even.”
The invitation caught me off guard. For a few seconds, I didn’t know what to say. Was he asking me out?
“I’m the one who owes you money,” I said. “It doesn’t make sense for you to buy me lunch.”
“Then you can pay,” he suggested. “I’m not above letting a woman pay for my meal.”
Now that surprised me. When we were teenagers, Lucas always felt emasculated when I tried to pay for anything. I looked at him with new eyes, seeing a totally different man than I remembered.
“I thought you said you meal prep your lunches?”
Lucas shrugged. “I’ll make an exception. For you. We never got to catch up the other night.”
I smiled in spite of myself. “You’re right. We didn’t.”
For a moment, there was a connection between us. A spark of that chemistry as we both remembered the events from that sizzling night of fun two weeks ago.
“Friday? Noon?” he suggested, pointing across the parking lot. “That place with the yellow sign has great sandwiches. Especially the BLT.”
“I love BLTs,” I said.
“I remember,” Lucas said casually.
Last night while we were texting, I had wanted to connect with him. To find an excuse to talk, or maybe even see him again. But it didn’t feel right at the time. The vibe was off.
But this? It was easy. It was seamless.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’d like that.”