Chapter 22 Bad Randy
BAD RANDY
I flicked a brush of mascara across my lashes as Hannah laughed down the phone.
“So, did Drool do the… Thing?”
“He absolutely-fucking-did do the thing. I nearly died.”
I cackled back down the phone.
“So, what? Are you like seeing him now?”
“Oh God, no. It’s strictly a doctor-patient relationship. He gets it. But, forget that! Tell me more about that locker room. And you’re actually going out with that hockey player turned underwear model, Randall Jackson, again?”
“I don’t know what it is about him, Han. He’s got this other side to him.”
“OH MY GOD!”
“What is it?”
“You LIKE him.”
“I… I don’t know… Maybe he’s not all bad.”
I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince Hannah or myself, but the words didn’t sound as false as I thought they might.
“Lucy and Randall sitting in a tree…”
“Childish Han,” I groaned back.
“F.U.C.K.I…”
“Childish and rude now.”
“Okay, sorry. To be fair, it seems like the only person who actually gets to see the real Randall is, is you. We all just get the act.”
“He kind of does something to me. But there’s more to it than that. When he opens up, he’s just a guy who’s both lost and, sort of, sweet.”
“You don’t always do well with those.”
“Maybe I’m changing, too? I mean, I feel like I want to take all that pain, fear, and sadness that he’s hiding, and help him deal with it. And perhaps some of my own, too.”
“I can think of one reason, and it’s how big exactly?”
“Not gonna lie. It is a big reason. But there’s something bigger than what’s going on in his shorts.”
“So, what’s going to happen? You help him be a proper person, and then what?”
There it was again. Those soft, vibrant flutters rattling in my blood.
Not just desire, but something stronger, something deeper.
Like the sensation of warm sunshine on your skin as it splits without warning through the gray clouds.
I couldn’t deny it or explain it. But it was… Not love? Was it love? No, not that.
“Han, I don’t know, but I guess I’m going to have to find out.”
“Seems a whole lot better than not knowing and pining about him. Either way, you’ll know what you really feel. I’ve got ten bucks on him fucking it up, but I’m still rooting for you Luce, really.”
Just as I finished putting on my favorite earrings, a gift from my father on my graduation, the doorbell rang.
“That’s my date with destiny, Han. Wish me luck.”
I opened the door and Randall turned to face me in dark glasses and a pristine white cotton shirt, three buttons open down his chest, the short sleeves showing off his thick, tan forearms. In his hand was a single red rose.
Standing on my doorstep, he looked every part a rogue in waiting. The kind your parents warned about. He really was a cocky, dreamy vision.
“Oh, my! You look too good for where we’re going,” he told me, lowering his glasses to take me in.
My cheeks reddened. Not so much at the compliment, but from the rush that came from him looking at me like that. That boyish, knowing grin spread over his face like wildfire as he handed me the rose.
“Oh, not at all cheesy, Randy,” I said sarcastically as I took the rose with a roll of my eyes. But inside, I couldn’t help but feel secretly pleased about it.
“Shall we?”
I nodded back, feeling shy and flustered again in his presence. Whatever you could say about Randall Jackson, he was still the type of man who could give you flutters just with a tempting look.
He held the car door open for me, and I smiled to myself. Randall treating me like a real lady only seemed to make my unladylike thoughts grow.
He drove casually with one hand on the wheel, confident and in control.
“I really appreciate this, Lucy.”
“So, what do I tell them, Randy? I’m your girlfriend? Fiancée? Lover?”
“What would you like to be?” He asked, throwing me a glance.
His demeanor slightly changed, as if perhaps he was also asking what I wanted to be to him. Was that what he was thinking?
“I’ll just say we met in Mexico. We’re dating. It’s mostly true.”
Randy nodded, but he began to look a little uncomfortable, and at first, I wondered if it was because of my answer.
“Lucy. I know I told you my family can be difficult. Well, it’s worse than that. It’s why I started to hide myself away. But I might have to be him today.”
“You mean, Bad Randy?”
His brow had a worried crease now, and his mouth was flat and serious. All the humor had gone from his eyes.
“Yeah. Bad Randy. Otherwise, it would be like throwing a chicken sandwich to a polar bear.”
“Like what now? But okay, I get it. Good to know, I guess.”
It unsettled me a little. I hadn’t seen him this flustered before. It didn’t seem natural for him.