Chapter 19
Nineteen
Lucas
Well, at least I’m trying to but Preston is just holding me back at this point.
“Dude.” I bark out a laugh as Preston gets killed yet again. “How did you not see that sniper?”
“Because I was too busy saving your ass.”
I scoff. “Right.”
His phone that’s resting on his thigh pings. He looks down for a quick second before practically tossing it onto the coffee table.
“Dad or Mom?” I set my controller down, waiting to start another round.
Preston hesitates for a moment and I’m already prepared for him to brush me off per usual, but I’m surprised when he actually answers. “Dad.”
“How long you gonna keep ignoring him?”
“I’m not ignoring him. I’m focused.”
“Right.” I gesture toward the living room TV. “If this is focused then I’m sorry to say but you suck ass at this game.”
He scoffs, defensive perusal. “Like you’re any better, you’re sitting there with your fucking head in the clouds.”
My breath catches in the back of my throat and I look at him to find him already staring at me because he knows he’s right.
Damn it.
My best friend may be a douchebag but he’s observant, I’ll give him that.
“Enough of my shit.” Preston leans back on the couch, feet resting on the coffee table. “What’s going on with you?”
I guess there’s no point in hiding it and besides, I kind of need to get it off my chest.
“I uh—I finally was able to talk to Denise.”
“She finally tell you to fuck off?” He scrolls through different character skins just to pretend that he’s not so interested.
“Essentially, yeah.”
His eyes snap toward mine, darkening.
And because I know the temper on this guy, I roll my eyes and feel the need to talk him down. I’d rather not punch the shit out of my best friend for running his mouth about Denise.
“Dude relax,” I chuckle but I can tell the sound is hollow. “She made it pretty clear she wasn’t looking for anything serious.”
“Did she though? Because you’ve been running around all over Ellingbrooke with her and it looks like to me it was a little more than that.”
I shrug my shoulders. “I can’t make her like me.”
He rolls his eyes, going back to his half-assed character design and I want to tell him he’s not fooling anybody by pretending not to care.
But I refrain because I think this is the most serious conversation we’ve had ever since this whole fiasco with his mom.
“What exactly did she say?” he asks.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter because you look like a fucking kicked dog right now.”
I don’t argue with him on that because I’m pretty sure he’s right.
“She basically said she wasn’t looking for anything more than a hookup and that she didn’t want to pretend that she did.”
“Well that’s bullshit.”
“Preston, come on—”
He sets his controller down, his head turning to face me and for a brief moment, I see the way my best friend used to be.
Passionate as fuck and protective to a fault.
“I know you think I’m just a fuck up right now and that I don’t notice what’s going on in your life, but I do hear the way you talk about her,” he admits. “Unless you were spewing me bullshit about what’s been happening, I think she’s been leading you on.”
“No she hasn’t, okay?” I argue. “I shouldn’t have just assumed shit.”
He scoffs. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
Preston’s a lot of things but willing to console anybody isn’t a talent he possesses.
“Me?” I point at myself. “What the hell did I do?”
“Look, I don’t want to get all sappy and shit and you know I do give a fuck about you but you just—you always think you having something to prove.”
He stops me before I can argue. “And I get it. You’re stereotyped, man. It’s kind of hard not to feel the need to prove a point but you shouldn’t have to do that with her.”
“I don’t feel like I need to do that with Denise.”
“Really?” He arches his eyebrow. “You said you wanted a relationship with her, she said she didn’t want that. Then what happened?”
I shrug. “I apologized for making her feel like she had to pretend to want something more.”
“And that’s it right there.”
I lean forward on the couch, resting my elbows on my knees, eyes narrowed in Preston’s direction. “Dude, what are you talking about? I can’t just force someone to want me.”
“No.” We finally agree on one thing. “But you also didn’t have to pretend that you were cool with her not wanting more.
You’re allowed to tell her how you really feel without having to play into whatever anyone else thinks about you.
You’re allowed to step out of whatever character it is you think you have to be. ”
People always ask me why I’m friends with Preston.
Where he’s blunt and harsh, I try to be patient and calm.
Mom and Dad like to joke that we’re fire and ice. That Preston must be blackmailing me into being his friend because theoretically, we shouldn’t want anything to do with each other.
But we’ve always had a mutual understanding that we’re alike in many ways—we just express ourselves differently.
I’m never going to fault Preston for being a little rough around the edges and he’s never made me feel like I was just meant to perform.
“Did you start going to therapy or something, ole wise one?” I grin, not being able to help myself because for all the shit he gives me when I suggest talking through things, he sure wants to do a lot of that right now.
“Nah.” He chuckles. “I’m too self-aware for that shit.”
“Sure, Pres.”
I pick my controller back up, joining him in picking my character before I do something like hug the guy. Not that I would mind but Preston would probably punch me in the face.
“I’m serious, though.” Preston doesn’t look away from the screen. “You should go and find someone you don’t have to pretend with. I mean, if that’s what you want. Or you can be just another booty call.”
“Wow, five hours of sobriety must be getting to you if you’re encouraging me to get into a relationship.”
“Hey.” He slaps the back of my head. Not so softly either. “It might not be my thing but I know it’s yours, god knows why, but I’ll always be here to support you—and maybe judge your taste in women.”
“My taste? What’s wrong with my taste?”
He laughs. “Dude, I’m seriously starting to think you have some sort of kink for emotional pain or something.”
“Oh, it’s not just emotional.”
Preston pauses for a moment, registering what I just said. I laugh when his lips pull back in disgust. “I’m gonna stop you right there.”
“I’m in the venting mood now.” I shake my head. “Come on, Nole, let’s talk feelings. Break the stereotype.”
“Okay, I did my best friend duties, I’m done with this conversation now.” He goes to stand.
“I think it all started in the fifth grade—”
“Not listening.”
“I asked this girl to go to the dance with me in front of all her friends—”
“Have fun talking to yourself.”
“She recited a list of reasons as to why she’d never be seen with me—”
He flips me off as he steps over my legs and walks in the direction of the hallway, but I continue, my voice only getting louder.
“I think that humiliation really awakened something in me.”
I hear him mutter something that sounds like “Jesus Christ” before the bathroom door clicks shut and I laugh, leaning back on the couch, head tilted toward the ceiling.
But then my smile can’t help but falter just thinking about Preston’s words.
I know I’ve been prone to feel this need to prove myself, in any way that I can. Whether that be that I’m not an idiot. Or despite popular belief, I can read. I’m not just some Black kid from San Diego who’s only ever going to peak in college.
Those things were always important for me to prove against but then as I got older, I realized I did it with everything.
Someone said some shit to me? I had to show that it didn’t bother me even if it did. Jokes about me being a stupid jock? I laughed along and sometimes even agreed just so I didn’t have to explain that at some point that shit started to sting.
My ex? I was the one to apologize because she cheated on me.
I accepted the fault of just not being good enough because I was afraid that if I got angry or expressed how upset I was, she’d use it against me.
Everyone else around me would remind me that a woman wouldn’t cheat unless she had to.
So obviously I had to have done something wrong.
And then there’s Denise.
I don’t know when it happened exactly but I made a silent pledge to myself that I would accept anything she gave. I would be anything she wanted because I was the one that should be grateful for her to even give me the time of day.
And god knows why I still feel that way.
It’s not that she’s perfect or doesn’t have flaws.
It’s that I don’t look at her and see someone who’s broken. Or too much.
Bratty and bossy? Sure.
Hard to love? Absolutely fucking not.
She makes me feel like it’s okay to not have to prove myself every single day. That I can just be who I want to be without the fear that I’m not enough. Or too much.
I’ve learned to adapt. To put on whatever mask anyone hands me and play my part. And I’ve done it well for the past twenty years, but I let it slip when Denise let me in.
I didn’t have to talk if I didn’t want to. Play into some role just to please her. Pretend that I was cool with certain things all because I thought that’s what she wanted. With Denise, I got to just be.
It never felt like a test with her. And maybe that’s where I went wrong. I let the mask slip a little too far and mistook convenience for something else. Something more like…like what?
Understanding?
Companionship?
Someone who saw me for me?
I’m not even sure I quite understand it myself.
I’m not going to pretend that I want to be with you just to make you feel better.
Was she really just pretending? Was I so blindsided by finally feeling like someone saw me that I didn’t notice that she never wanted anything to do with me? Or at least nothing that wasn’t physical?
I never wanted to make Denise think she had to want something she wasn’t interested in, but that’s the thing.
It wasn’t clear. One moment she’d pull me in, the next she was pushing me away.
And I’ll admit, I liked the chase. The hitch in her breath when I stood too close or the smile she’d try to hold back when I never bothered to hide how obsessed I was with her.
I swore there was more. That we were more.
But like I told Preston, I can’t make her want me. Can’t coax her into jumping into something she has no interest in even dipping her toe into. I can’t hold it against her and I would never make her feel bad for being honest.
Thanks for being cool about it.
I squeeze my eyes shut as her words from earlier today ring in my ears.
Cool?
Yeah. Sure.
I’ll play the part, just like I always do.