Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
LUCAS
Teaching Alexander ASL for the past few days feels like walking a tightrope. One I never asked to be in, but here I am teetering between control and something else I don’t want to name.
It’s not the lessons themselves; the movements are simple enough, the signs flowing from my hands with ease. What’s difficult is the way Alex watches me, the weight of his gaze like a hand pressed to my skin. Heavy and intent. It’s hard to meet his eyes when I teach, yet it’s impossible not to.
On Tuesday, we sat almost close to each other.
It’s been so long since I let myself sit close to anyone except Tyler.
Sometimes his fingers brush mine when I show him the shape of a sign, and it’s nothing, but it’s also everything.
I tell myself it’s just part of the lesson.
That’s all. But the insane pounding of my heart doesn’t listen.
On Wednesday, I find myself standing at the mirror for too long.
Trying on different shirts, I almost choked on a laugh when I realized what I was doing.
Who the fuck was I kidding? I later tell myself it’s just to look presentable.
And it’s not for him. But when Alex’s gaze lingered longer than it should, when his eyes flickered down my face, my hands, my throat… I don’t know what to think.
I spent the whole of Thursday morning researching why my heart pounds when I think of someone or whenever I am near the person, and other stupid-related symptoms I’ve been having since I met Alexander.
Google tells me I have a crush or a strong attraction and emotion towards him.
I shut my laptop so quickly and got ready for my evening class since I wasn’t teaching him ASL that day.
I didn’t know if I was happy or disappointed.
Earlier today, my hand lingered a second too long on his.
His skin warm beneath my fingertips, solid and sure.
The air between us shifted. I could feel it, humming low and dangerous.
I looked up, and Alexander was already looking at me, his gaze steady and quiet.
I didn’t know what it meant, but it made my chest feel too tight, too full.
I had pulled back first.
And now with the car ride back to my apartment…
I feel like I’m waiting for something to snap.
I don’t know what. I don’t know if I want it to.
The weight settles deep in my chest, spreading until it’s more than just nerves.
I stare out the window as the city blurs past, the faint hum of the engine filling the silence.
My hands rest on my lap, fingers twisting together, thinking of the way Alex’s gaze lingered too long today.
Of how close our hands came again. Of how something tight and warm coils inside me every time his eyes lock on mine.
When the car slows to a stop outside my apartment building, I hesitate for a moment. The driver says nothing, just waits, as he normally does. I finally nod my thanks before stepping out. The air is cooler now, biting against my skin.
I head upstairs. Inside, Tyler is sprawled out on the couch, eyes locked on the boxing match playing on the TV. The room smells faintly of whatever instant noodles he probably cooked earlier, though the window’s open, letting in the cold night air.
“Welcome home, handsome,” he says, not looking away from the screen.
I smile and give him a slight slap on his shoulders, he finally glances over, sitting up a little.
“You hungry?” he asks, returning the smile
I shake my head, dropping my bag on the couch. He smirks and asks teasingly
“Let me guess. You already ate at his place?”
Heat creeps up my neck, and I glare at him but nod.
“Yeah, figured. Bet he’s never letting you leave without feeding you, huh?” Tyler says with a grin.
He’s not wrong. After every lesson, Alexander either orders food or cooks by himself, and he makes me sit on the counter stool and watch him. He’s silent about it and does not explain, but the gesture is loud enough. Like everything he does, it leaves me unsure of how to feel.
I move toward the kitchen, half-thinking about grabbing water, when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, glancing at the screen.
It’s an alert from Cash App.
My chest tightens when I read it, and I know who it’s from.
It makes my stomach twist sharply. Even though he said it—five thousand every Friday—I didn’t quite believe it until now.
He had asked me for my bank details on Monday when we started, and I had given him my Cash App.
I stare at the number. Four days. Just four days, and it’s already there. Something I work for hours and extra shifts, which takes one month to get.
“What’s wrong?” Tyler asks from the couch, his tone sharper now.
I hesitate, then walk over and hand him my phone. He glances down. His eyes widen slightly, and then he lets out a low whistle.
So… he’s really serious about this, huh?” Tyler leans back, handing me the phone. “That’s insane.”
I shrug, but it feels heavy. Confusing. I stare at the screen again, debating if I should text him now or later. I don’t even know what to say to him.. I let out a groan, then tuck my phone back into my pocket.
“You gonna quit your job now?” Tyler asks, watching me carefully.
I hesitate, my fingers brushing the back of my neck. The thought alone makes me feel strange, like I’m standing at the edge of something unfamiliar.
“I don’t know,” I sign slowly.
He frowns, confused. “Why not? With that amount, you don’t have to kill yourself working anymore. You can actually breathe, Lucas.”
But that’s the problem. I don’t know how to breathe without working.
I’ve been moving nonstop for so long, it feels like my entire life is stitched together by late shifts and tired mornings.
My routine has been my armor—work, survive, don’t ever think of the past, repeat.
The idea of just… stopping? Of lying around all day after school until it’s time to meet Alex?
I shake my head, rubbing at my jaw.
“It’s not easy,” I sign. I’m not used to it. Doing nothing.
Tyler studies me for a moment, his brow creased. Then he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Maybe it’s time you try,” he says softly. “You’ve done enough, Lucas. You don’t have to prove anything anymore.”
But maybe it’s not about proving anything. Maybe it’s just about surviving. And maybe I’m scared of what happens when I finally stop running.
I don’t say anything.
Tyler watches me, his gaze sharp but unreadable. I can tell he’s thinking something—something heavier than just the money.
His fingers drum lightly against his knee before he finally asks, “Are your nightmares back?”
The question catches me off guard. I blink, my lips parting slightly before I shake my head.
“No,” My hands move automatically. “I haven’t had one in months.”
He doesn’t react immediately. He just looks at me, eyes scanning my face like he’s searching for cracks. I try not to shift under the weight of it. Then he leans forward slightly, his voice a little calmer this time.
“What about the triggers? The memories?”
I stiffen.
That hesitation—it’s small, barely a breath, but Tyler catches it. He always does.
“What triggered it?” voice getting hard, “Who?”
I force my shoulders to relax before signing again.
“I haven’t had them for long.”
The words feel heavier than they should. I give him a small smile, something to reassure him. Something to convince myself.
His jaw tightens for a second, but then he nods. He doesn’t call me out. Instead, he says,
“You know I’m always here, right? Whenever it starts feeling like too much”
The words settle over me, warm and grounding
I nod. I know.
Silence stretches between us, thick but not uncomfortable. The fight on the TV rages on in the background, the sounds of fists meeting flesh, the roar of the crowd—but I barely hear it.
I press my palms against my thighs and exhale slowly. The truth is, I did have a moment.
At the art exhibition, Alex grabbed my arm, and the memories, dark and distant, had clawed their way into my chest. But it didn’t consume me the way it used to. It didn’t drown me for days like it used to, and maybe that should terrify me, maybe I should be more careful.
But… I wasn’t afraid of Alex and that is the part I can’t quite understand.
“Good,” Tyler finally says, rubbing his palm against the back of his neck. “Just… don’t keep shit bottled up, okay?”
I give him another slight nod. He sighs, muttering something under his breath before turning back to the TV.
I lean back into the couch, my hands still curled into my lap. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I don’t know why Alex doesn’t feel like a trigger, even when his presence is loud, all-consuming, and suffocating in ways I should hate.
But I don’t.
Later that night, I lay in bed, staring at my phone screen, the brightness almost blinding in the dark.
The number still sits there in my Cash App—the payment from Alex. It still feels unbelievable.
I roll onto my side, exhaling slowly. I should text him. Say thank you. That’s the polite thing to do, right? But something about texting him feels different.
I hover my fingers over the keyboard, staring at the message box. Every time I start typing, I delete what I've typed immediately.
What do I even say? Hey, thanks for the absurd amount of money? Appreciate you paying me more than my entire paycheck?
I sigh, pressing my face into the pillow. Just text him, idiot.
I lift my phone again, and before I can overthink it, I type:
Lucas: Hey
The moment I hit send, I regret it.
“Hey”? That’s it? I groan, dragging a hand down my face. He’s probably going to leave me on read, wondering why I wasted his time with a half-ass message. A few moments pass, and then—
Seen.
My stomach twists and after a while his reply pops up.
Alex: Lucas.
I hate how just seeing my name typed out like that makes something shiver through me. His voice echoes in my head, the way he says it—low, smooth, like he’s tasting the syllables.
I swallow hard, staring at my screen like it’s betrayed me.
Alex: why are you
texting this late?
I glance at the time and curse under my breath, past 1 AM.
Shit. I quickly type back.
Lucas: I just wanted to say
Thank you…for the money.
Alex: You worked for it.
No need to thank me.
I bite my lip, fingers hesitating over the keyboard. Do I say something else? Leave it there? I type, erase, type again. Then, finally.
Lucas: Oh, right. Yeah.
I immediately cringe. What the hell was that? Alex’s reply comes almost instantly.
Alex: Go to sleep, Lucas. It’s
Late. Have a good weekend.
Something warm flickers in my chest, unexpected, and I quickly send a thank you GIF before I can overthink it.
I stare at the screen for a long time after that, the blue light burning into my eyes.
Then, finally, I put my phone down and close my eyes, for the first time in a while, sleep comes easier than I expect.
***
The weekend air is thick with the scent of sizzling food, fresh fabric, and something sweet I can’t quite place.
The pop-up market stretches along the street, a chaotic mess of colorful stalls, people moving in clusters, and voices overlapping in a constant hum.
It’s a little overwhelming, but the weight of Tyler’s hand on my shoulder keeps me grounded.
“See?” he says and signs at the same time, grinning as he steers me toward a clothing stall. “Best friend time. Just you and me.”
I shake my head, but the corner of my lips twitches up slightly.
It’s been a while since we’ve done this—spent time outside together or even gone thrift shopping.
I let him pull me toward a rack of jackets. Everything here is on discount, which means Tyler is practically vibrating with excitement. He sifts through a few before holding one up to my chest, his eyes narrowing in judgment.
“Hmm. No, too big,” he mutters, tossing it back before grabbing another. “This one—”
I roll my eyes, but let him continue his fashion experiments, we spend over an hour hopping from stall to stall, picking out affordable yet nice clothes and tasting food from the street vendors.
Tyler insists we try everything—spicy skewers, fried dumplings, sugary pastries that leave my fingers sticky.
It feels good, it feels normal.
I like it.
The payment I got from Alexander yesterday sits in my bank account.
This morning, I called my mom after ignoring her for weeks.
I sent this month’s loan, which was double the amount I usually send to her, and I told her to use the money to cover as much interest as possible.
She cried over the phone as usual. Tyler warned her strictly to pay it.
For the first time in years, I wasn’t handing over my entire paycheck just to keep us from sinking. I could breathe.
As we weave through the crowd, a small stall catches my attention. It’s tucked between a jewelry stand and a booth selling handwoven scarves, nearly hidden except for the bold handwritten sign: LILY’S FRAGRANCES & PERFUME OILS.
Something about it pulls me in.
I slow my steps, stepping toward the display of neatly arranged bottles. The vendor, a middle-aged Mexican woman with warm eyes, notices me and smiles.
“Come, mijo,” she says, gesturing to the small test strips on the counter. “Try some. Find the scent that speaks to you.”
I reach out, picking up one of the small glass bottles.
There are all kinds. Some sharp and fresh, others rich and heavy. I skim over the options until my eyes land on a small vial tucked near the edge.
I don’t know why I reach for that one.
But the moment I uncap it and bring it to my nose, something settles in me. It smells almost like my body wash, but this one more richer and pronounced.
It’s deep but not overpowering. Warm, smooth, with a hint of something woodsy. There’s a softness in it too, like a spicy vanilla, but not sickly sweet. It smells…
Good.
Like something I want wrapped around me.
The vendor watches my face and smiles knowingly.
“Ah. That one—you have good taste. It’s a custom blend for both men and women. It will mix beautifully with your skin.”
I hesitate, glancing at the price tag.
It’s not expensive. Not really.
Tyler nudges me. “You like it?”
I nod slowly.
“Then get it,” he says, like it’s obvious.
The woman nods in agreement.
“Trust me, mijo, you won’t regret it.”
I take one more sniff, letting the scent fill my senses then I nod.
“Okay,” I sign. “I’ll take it.”
The woman beams as she carefully wraps the vial in a soft pouch. When I slipped it into my tote bag, I couldn’t help but smile. I can’t remember when I’ve been this happy about getting something for myself.