Eighteen
EIGHTEEN
LEORA
" I understand you’re upset. Maybe I didn’t handle things well, but can you see it from my point of view too?" he says with a slight calmness to his tone.
I didn't want to use him. I just wanted to talk to him.
"Lucas," I say firmly, "you had no right to assume the worst of me and treat me as you did. I didn't deserve that." He looks taken aback, but I continue, my voice unwavering. "I approached you at the club because I wanted to talk to you, not because I wanted anything from you. I have my own money. I can take care of myself, and I don’t need you. But you didn't even give me a chance to explain before jumping to conclusions."
His eyebrows raise, and he takes a step toward me, towering over me. Suddenly, my whole bravado disappears, and my nerves take over. My fingers tingle, and my stomach flips as I try to stand my ground, but his imposing presence makes me feel so small.
His eyes lock onto mine. "And you don’t think your behavior was wrong?" My body involuntarily tenses at his confrontation. A surge of adrenaline courses through my veins, setting my heart racing and creating a subtle discomfort. I know I was in the wrong, but a stubborn part of me yearns for him to acknowledge his wrongdoing first and offer an apology that would soothe the ache of our recent clash.
With an airy touch, he raises his hand and uses his index finger to brush away a stray strand of hair that has fallen across my face.
"Aren’t you going to apologize?" I try to sound composed, but it comes out as a whisper.
Lucas lowers himself, so we are eye to eye, and a charged silence hangs in the air. His gaze locks onto mine, and for a moment, the world seems to pause.
His eyes are so dark, they’re almost black yet in his right eye there’s a speck of gold, a captivating anomaly that draws me in.
His lips curve into a subtle, mysterious smile, and he leans in just a fraction closer, leaving me breathless. My heart races as I struggle to maintain composure. "We’re not going to solve this today. Be ready tomorrow at ten. We’re visiting Ammo." The warmth of his breath sends a tantalizing shiver down my spine. Without another word, he straightens, turns his back to me, and walks away from the living room. I'm left standing there, caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.
What the actual?—
I had hoped we would resolve this, but it looks like we won’t. It takes me back to when John and I would argue. He would simply dismiss me left and right, not allowing my feelings to be validated. Whatever he had done, I was always in the wrong, whether it was because I actually did something or because he had hurt my feelings. It was always, "You provoke me into saying stuff I don't mean," or, "Why are you upset? What about my feelings? Do you ever stop to think about them?" Then, I was the one feeling guilty, which led me to apologize unnecessarily. I’m not going through that again, real or fake. That’s why I want him to apologize first. It might be childish and wrong, but I need it.
At the thought of my past, a surge of emotions lights me up, and with renewed determination, I follow Lucas into a hallway.
"Lucas." My voice is filled with conviction. He turns to face me, his expression guarded.
"I won't apologize," I say firmly, looking him directly in the eyes.
"I didn’t ask you to."
"But you?—"
Lucas's jaw tightens, and he gives me a piercing glare as he takes a few steps toward me. Fuck, I think I just poked the bear a little too much. Despite his aggravation, he still looks incredible, and it's frustrating because I'm supposed to be upset with him, not turned on. His presence makes me want to forget everything and succumb to the attraction that lingers between us, even amidst an argument.
"But what, Leora? I should apologize just because you want me to? That's not how it works, darling," he says the word "darling" like it’s poisonous. "My patience is wearing thin. I thought we were having a good night." He brushes a hand through his hair, sighing, "I'm not a mind reader—I wasn't then, and I'm not now. For you to assume I should be aware of your past is unfair." Lucas crosses his arms, his expression still guarded.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down and keep my voice level. "I was angry and hurt, and I wanted to make a point." I try to gauge his expression but get nothing, so I continue. "My friends wanted me to feel confident again, and walking up to a guy that looks like you and getting a response will give a girl some confidence. I never wanted to use you in any other way than to talk."
Lucas's jaw clenches, and for a moment, I think he's going to say something else to fuel the fire. But then he sighs heavily, his hand once again going through his already messy hair. "Leora," he says my name with so much concern, his voice a gentle touch in the midst of the tension. "It's been a long and intense day for both of us. Can we put this conversation on hold and discuss it when we've had a good night's sleep?" He's right. It's been an intense day. Maybe that's what's fueling my emotions. Though I had wanted to solve this now, I nod in agreement.
He turns and walks toward his bedroom, his shoulders slightly slouched. I watch him go, his every step echoing the weariness he carries. As he disappears from view, I turn and head toward my own bedroom, my mind turbulent with thoughts and emotions. The heaviness in the air lingers, a silent testament to the weight of the day on both our shoulders.
As I enter my room and shut the door behind me, I take a deep breath, attempting to calm myself down. The argument has left me drained and exhausted, yet I know it's not over. There's still a lot to talk about, and I just hope we can work things out.
If nothing else, I learned something about my husband tonight: Lucas might be even more stubborn than I am.
I slowly open my eyes, blinking against the brightness. The soft light from the window filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. It paints the walls in hues of gold and shadows dance across the floor. I stretch my arms above my head, feeling a pleasant tingling sensation as my muscles awaken from slumber. As I sit up, I notice the faint scent of the salty ocean in the air, carried in by a gentle breeze that rustles the curtains. The chirping of birds outside adds to the serene ambiance. It feels as though I’m living a dream.
My heart sinks as the memory of yesterday's argument floods back into my mind, shattering the peacefulness of the moment. I got one minute of peace before my memories of him ruined my morning. I don't know how to move forward from this, and I don't even know if I want to. Part of me wants to hold onto the anger and resentment, to not give in and admit any wrongdoing. But another part of me, a softer part, wants to find a way to bridge the divide and start to build on a relationship.
I huff. What relationship? This whole ordeal is for others to see and believe. In reality, it doesn’t matter if we argue or dislike each other behind closed doors. We just have to make it look as if we love each other.
I inhale deeply and reach for my phone on the nightstand. The first thing I do is open up the group chat between the girls and I, and find a few messages.
Adeline
We’re home now, habibti.
How are you?
Sophie
How’s the new husband treating you?
Adeline
They’ve probably killed each other, that’s why she’s not answering
Me
Good morning my loves.
I’m fine and nobody has killed anyone…yet. but if I don’t answer any more messages today, I’m probably in jail for causing harm to my "husband." In that case, I love you.
My eyes go to the clock on my phone, 9:40 a.m. Dammit , I only have twenty minutes to get ready.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and rush to the en suite bathroom. I splash my face with cool water, feeling the refreshing sensation wake me up completely. I quickly go through my skincare routine, applying serums, moisturizer, and sunscreen—I never forget sunscreen—with practiced efficiency. I glance at the clock on the bathroom counter, realizing that time is ticking away faster than I thought. I rush to my walk-in closet, which had been filled with clothes when I arrived. He had prepared everything, from formal dresses to jeans and t-shirts.
At first, I was slightly annoyed. It felt like a way for him to control me, for me to wear "fitting" clothes as he had put it. But after our argument yesterday, I took a look at the clothes and everything lookes amazing; it looks like me . Which both pisses me off and makes me extremely happy at the same time. There are even a bunch of sundresses in various lengths and colors. And don't get me started on the shoes or I will cry. There are rows of beautiful heels, flats, and sneakers.
It’s a dream come true, and I’m utterly confused.
Yesterday, he told me we were going to meet with Antoine, and I’m quite excited to see a friendly face, especially after yesterday’s ending.
My hair still has some curls from the wedding, so I only focus on getting the perfect curtain bang before I do my make up. I keep the look soft with a touch of pink lip gloss and a hint of blush.
After I finish, I opt for a black silk, midi skirt paired with a black tank top, completing the look with a pair of stylish Chanel flats. As soon as I saw the beige, tweed flats, I knew I had to wear them. They’re simply gorgeous.
I look at myself in the mirror one more time and spritz myself with my favorite vanilla perfume before I leave my room.
Of course, Lucas is already waiting in the kitchen, leaning against the kitchen island with a coffee in his hand. I curse under my breath when I see him looking as handsome as ever. His outfit is casual; he’s wearing a pair of dark jeans and a t-shirt.
Our eyes lock as I walk toward him, and Lucas's gaze slowly travels over my body. I become acutely aware of his attention, and my body reacts to his lingering stare. My heart skips a beat as a flush spreads across my skin.
Why does he have this effect on me? I don’t understand; we don’t even know each other enough for me to react like this.
All I ask is that he doesn’t notice how my traitorous body reacts. I lick my lower lip nervously, and I catch Lucas mirroring my action, his eyes zeroing in on my lips.
Yep, he totally noticed.
To my relief, his eyes move back up to meet mine. The intensity in his gaze is unmistakable, and I can see a flicker of something there.
He takes a sip from his coffee cup. "Did you sleep well?"
I stop in front of him, leaning in ever so slightly to smell his cologne. It smells woodsy and manly, and my breath catches in my throat. For a reason, my voice can’t seem to come out, so I nod. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I seem to act like a normal person in front of him?
Lucas blinks, and I take a step back, feeling embarrassed.
I try to shake off the tension that still lingers in the air as I busy myself with getting a glass of water.
Remember you’re still mad at him.
I try to dig up the feelings from yesterday, but now there’s something else that has been added to the feelings.
Guilt.
I might have overreacted, I think.
Lucas clears his throat and looks away, and I can tell that he's trying to regain his composure.
"We should get going, We don't want to be late."
I nod again, take a last sip from my water, and follow him out of the apartment and into the death trap.