Twenty-Two
TWENTY-TWO
LEORA
I ’m a fool.
A complete moron.
I hate stairs, almost as much as I hate elevators at this point.
I mean, honestly, what is two to three minutes of anxiety, when I can keep dry and have a heartbeat under one hundred and sixty beats per minute? But now, as I trudge up the seemingly never-ending steps, I'm drenched. My dress is sticking to my skin, I have boob sweat, and I’m even sweating in places I shouldn’t be. This is not the wet feeling I normally strive for.
My poor Saint Laurents are hanging from my hands as I walk up this hell of an incline, barefoot, contemplating why I hate myself so much. I thought it would give me some time to think about Lucas and why he’s being so weird, considering he didn’t speak to me the whole ride back home and then he just left me. I thought the brunch went well, except for his ex showing up.
When I came out, I immediately recognized her as the blonde who straddled him that night at the club. What I hadn't known, however, is that she's Lucas's ex. Much like last time, she seemed desperate to get his attention, and I didn't like it. I didn't like it at all.
It’s not like I’m jealous, if they want to they can get back together when our agreement is over. But right this second, he’s connected to me through this marriage. Which means he isn’t hers to take just yet. It’s a bit of a slap in the face, though, the amount of disrespect you have to harbor to flirt with a married man.
I try to shake off the feeling of irritation as I walk up the stairs. I don’t need more problematic people to think about, so my mind floats back to Lucas and the brunch.
I thought we were on the same page and that we'd both moved on from the argument, but that’s clearly not the case. The brunch was our first real test, other than the wedding, and I thought we worked great together.
Two puzzle pieces finally falling into place.
I’m still shocked over how he treated Michel after I walked away. I didn’t hear what he said, but I watched from afar as the scene unfolded. Even though I don’t know him that well, it felt like I was witnessing a completely different side of Lucas. It felt good to see him stand up for me that way; it made me feel safe and protected, and the moment we shared at the table felt genuine.
I clutch the bag of soaps closer to me, chuckling a little bit at the memory, before another hits me.
The kiss.
My fingers instinctively go to my lips, reminiscing about the electric, sweet sensation of his mouth on mine. To say I crave more is an understatement, but no matter what, Lucas must remain unaware of that desire. To be fair, he had mentioned that Michel and Melina were watching, suggesting that the kiss was prompted by their presence rather than his own wish.
When I finally reach the door to the twenty-third floor, I’m panting and gasping for air. I really need to start working out because this isn’t even slightly healthy. I’m practically dying.
I use the fob to unlock the door but instead of opening, the keypad lights up with the word CODE .
What damn code is it talking about? I don’t have a code, and Lucas didn’t mention anything about one. I take my phone out of my bag and send him a text.
Me
I need the code for the door
Lucas
What door?
Me
The door to your apartment from the staircase
A minute or two passes and I still haven’t received a code. A little flutter of panic runs through me and it escalates when I start to overthink. I’m going to die here. I’ll stay here forever . Lucas will come home and he’ll probably worry— I hope— then call the police and after further investigation, they’re going to call me a missing person.
My phone buzzes in my hand. Okay, maybe I’ll make it out of here after all.
Lucas
*950915#
As I press the last button, the sound of the lock clicking echoes through the hallway. Relief floods through me as I push open the door and step inside, finally escaping the endless staircase. My whole body is aching after that grueling workout so I head straight to my bathroom, eager to wash away the sweat and exhaustion with a soothing shower.
After I finish washing up, my mind once again drifts to Lucas.
Is he alright? And why did he leave me here, alone, when we really need to talk?
I sit on the edge of the bed and pick up my phone, scrolling through social media. I come across a French gossip site and the first image I see is a picture of me and Lucas. It’s one of the photos the paparazzi captured of us outside the hotel.
He’s holding me close to his body, and I’m leaning against him, my hand on his chest. We’re gazing into each other's eyes, smiling.
Wow.
We look like a real couple—anyone would believe it. I close down the website and just before I put my phone away, I notice an unread message from twenty minutes ago, just before my shower. It’s a message from Lucas.
Lucas
And it's our apartment.
The word " our" lingers in my mind as I stare at his message.
Our apartment. Not just his, but ours. It’s a small thing, but it means a lot. The word " our" hasn’t crossed my mind once, especially considering it won’t be "ours" forever.
It’s almost ten o’clock in the evening and Lucas is still not home. I’ve had time to make food, eat it, organize my stuff, watch a movie, take a nap, and now I’m reading the book I brought with me on vacation. Or, at least I’m trying to read, but my mind keeps wandering to Lucas, wondering where he is. I keep telling myself to stop being so worried. He’s a grown man who can take care of himself.
I try to focus on the words on the page, and I somewhat succeed when I finally reach the part where the couple give their relationship another go. I love a second-chance romance, and this one is keeping me on my toes. The spice in it is immaculate—their desire and hidden love for each other almost palpable.
The male main character's dirty talk is incredibly arousing to me. Whenever I read it, I can't help but wonder if there are actually men out there who desire their partner so passionately and who genuinely crave their satisfaction.
The sound of the elevator opening interrupts my reading. I look up from my book and see Lucas walking in, appearing a bit disheveled and tired. His steps are a tad heavier than usual, and his eyes carry the weight of the day, a weariness that reflects in their subdued gaze. His tie hangs loosely around his neck, and his curly locks appear thoroughly tousled from his hand running through them several times.
My heart skips a beat at the sight of him, but I quickly compose myself and ask, "Where have you been?"
"Had some work to finish up. Lost track of time."
I want to believe him, but something feels off.
I close my book, set it aside, and sit up to make room for Lucas on the couch. It’s a silent plea for him to sit next to me. I'm left feeling simultaneously grateful and disappointed as he takes a seat but says nothing. I look over at him and meet his gaze, his eyes are filled with an emotion I can't identify precisely. I open my mouth to speak, but before I can say anything, he beats me to it.
"I’m sorry for what I said yesterday, and the day before, and for not giving you a chance to explain. I overreacted, and I am sorry for any hurt or misunderstanding I may have caused. You didn’t deserve that." His tone is gentle and apologetic, and there’s now a softness to his eyes that conveys his regret. The weight of his words settles in the air and I can't help but feel a sense of relief washing over me. Are we finally going to move past this mess?
I nod, accepting his apology, and a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
"Thank you for apologizing; I was afraid we would tiptoe around each other for the rest of the year."
"I don’t think I could handle that."
"Me neither," I admit, "and I’m sorry for raising my voice and for throwing that drink at your face. It wasn’t okay, I shouldn’t have acted that way."
"I understand why though, I was an ass."
"Well, yes, you were. And to be honest, I was quite upset that I didn’t finish the drink. It was delicious."
"I’ll get you another one if you promise to drink it this time." Lucas lets out a little chuckle, his dimple on full display.
He’s so beautiful, it hurts not to raise my hand and caress his face the way I inexplicably crave to.
"Friends?" I say, extending my hand as a peacemaking gesture, hoping we can move past the tension and start over.
Lucas momentarily stares at my outstretched hand, then, his lips stretch into the most breathtaking smile, and a flurry of butterflies take flight in my stomach.
"Friends." He reaches out to shake my hand. An electric zap courses between us as soon as our hands touch, causing us to startle and pull our hands away.
He tilts his head, looking at me with curiosity and amusement. My eyes go to his smile, focusing on his soft lips. My mind drifts back to the kiss we shared and it’s begging me to do it again.
As Lucas's gaze lingers on me, I can't resist the pull I sense toward him. With a surge of courage, I raise my hand and gently move the loose curls away from his face with my hand— something I’ve been wanting to do since the first time I laid eyes on him. His hair is so soft to the touch.
Lucas closes his eyes, savoring the sensation of my fingers in his hair. A low groan escapes his lips, and my body reacts at the sound. I feel a rush of desire between my legs, and I shift in my seat, trying to alleviate the sudden ache. It’s been building up from reading my book, and having him sit next to me is only adding to my arousal.
When he opens his eyes, the look he gives me sends a shudder through me. It's a look filled with hunger and longing, and I know, without a doubt, that he feels the same attraction that I do.
For a few moments, we sit there in silence, lost in our own thoughts and desires. I want him, I need him. This lust between us has to go somewhere, it can’t just keep building.
I'm torn between the desire to lean in and kiss him, and the fear of ruining everything this marriage pact is for.
So I make a choice, and snap out of the magical moment, pulling back as I let go of his hair, breaking the physical contact between us.
Lucas seems to sense my hesitation, and he gives me a reassuring smile.
"We should sleep. It’s your first day at your new job tomorrow." His eyes glimmer, and I nod at him as we both stand up.
"Goodnight, Lucas," I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper, trying to ignore the butterflies still dancing wildly in my stomach.
"Goodnight, Leora," he replies, his voice husky.
Time seems to stand still for a moment as we gaze into each other's eyes, the air charged with unspoken emotions. He gives me a half-smile, his dimple, once again, visible. I turn around, my steps a bit unsteady, and begin walking toward my room.
As I'm about to take another step, his voice stops me in my tracks.
"Leora." I look over my shoulder.
"Remember when you told me that you came up to me to feel a bit more confident?"
I simply nod at him, holding my breath as I wait for what he has to say.
"A girl like you doesn’t need a guy like me to be confident," he says softly, before he turns around and walks to his room.
That might be one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me.
Do I believe him?
No.
But I still appreciate it. Lucas seems to be much sweeter and more considerate than I originally thought. He’s more than just a pretty face, and tonight I actually feel that we can make this work while still enjoying each other’s company.
We might become friends after all.