32. I Don’t Need the Details
I DON’T NEED THE DETAILS
BEFORE
Despite having been together for well over a year now, Lucas and I have managed to go on very few dates.
There are always chores that are sometimes prioritized for us: His brothers and their schoolwork. Supporting his mother at a local town hall meeting. My sisters and their various academic and social needs. Schoolwork. Work work. And when possible, sex.
This Thursday, though, Lucas talks me into coming to the Huntington Library.
“There’s a special Chaucer exhibit, and since it’s the once-a-month free day, you can’t say it doesn’t fall within our budget.”
“You know what else costs less than ten dollars?”
“Don’t say condoms.” Lucas closes his eyes as if in pain. “I’m trying to be a good boyfriend.”
“You know what good boyfriends do?”
But Lucas is done with my games. He steers me and my overactive hormones through the exhibit, and standing in front of the inscribed vellum that’s protected in a humidity-and-temperature-controlled case that looks bulletproof, I admit I feel a small spark of joy.
“I’m going to grudgingly admit this isn’t your worst ten-dollar date.”
“I’ve already apologized about the pennies.”
For one of our first outings, Lucas had interpreted my instructions literally. He’d gone to the bank and gotten a thousand pennies, taking me on a walking tour of Pasadena’s fountains, branding it a wish-making exercise.
I run my hand along the edge of the display case, because I’m genuinely curious about the level of security here. No alarms go off, but my finger comes away a little black and the sleepy-looking security guard gives me a lazy one-eyebrow lift.
“I’m an amazing practice girlfriend, saving you from future embarrassment by vetoing one bad date at a time.”
Lucas’s lips thin a little as he looks away from me. The longer we’re together, the less he enjoys my jokes about the transient nature of college relationships.
“If I’m banned from I love you, you should be banned from calling yourself a practice girlfriend.”
“It’s what I offered, from the very start.”
“You should have known I accepted it as a starting offer.”
I try to keep my tone light, inviting Lucas to help me turn this into a joke, thinking that this is what’s better, simpler about sex. Not just the endorphins, but also the fact that there are far fewer opportunities for me to fuck things up. “You should have read the fine print.”
“Next time I’ll be more careful. We can put the entire thing in writing.” Lucas takes my hand, because that’s about how much PDA I can handle.
As we wander the hallowed halls, much of which is clearly designed for the purpose of advertising their wealth, ceilings that are twenty-six feet high, a rotunda that soars forty-three feet, I do find myself drawn to the book collections.
But the one I stop in front of is Audubon’s Birds of America.
It’s at least three and a half feet in height, a couple feet wide.
Because it’s protected, it can only be turned to display one bird at a time, meaning most of the hand-drawn plates will never be seen by commoners like me, who can at most visit once a month.
Lucas edges closer, his hand squeezing mine, his voice a low, Huntington Library–appropriate whisper along the back of my neck. “Why do you look angry?”
“I’ve always thought this is the dumbest charity.”
“You have something against birds?”
The artwork is beautiful, objectively so. It’s detailed and nuanced in a way that draws you to it. And yet—
“Ever wonder how rich you have to be to care about birds? I mean, stop and think about it for a minute. How satisfied would you have to be with your own life, how little would you have to be paying attention to class issues or world hunger before you’d start worrying about the preservation of rare birds? ”
“I’m not seeing the connection, but I’m guessing this has something to do with one of your parents.”
I wonder whether I’m really this predictable, or if Lucas just equates all my negativity with one or the other of my parents.
“This was one of my mother’s volunteer activities, back when she was one of those ladies who lunched. She didn’t know any of my teachers’ names, but she had time for birds.”
Hazel eyes open wide, twinkling with humor. “Don’t tell me this is why you like cats.”
“One of the many, many reasons.” And then, because even I can hear the bitchiness, I try again. “I’m sorry, this was a nice idea, truly. I’ve just been in a bad mood for—”
“Your entire life?”
“Ouch. See this right here? This is why I don’t talk about feelings.” I nudge him toward the Japanese gardens. “Why do you put up with me again?”
“Dating practice, right?” He smooths a strand of hair away from my face because I’ve forgotten a hair tie, again. The tenderness of his voice belies his words. “We all have to start somewhere.”
Later, after we’ve walked through all the exhibits and allowed the docents to bait us (“Which of the Virgin Mary portraits would you guess is the most expensive?” and “Did you know Pinkie and Blue Boy weren’t intended as a set?
”), we spread out an old blanket on a patch of grass and pour honey over French bread.
Lucas is propped on one elbow, chewing slowly as we try to more properly appreciate the Queensland kauri, apparently the oldest planted tree on the property.
“Why is oldest potted plant something they track?”
“Any excuse to put up a plaque?” Lucas’s fingers are intertwined with mine, meaning that even though his voice remains steady, I can feel the way he tenses.
I lift his hand to mine, spreading a gentle kiss along his knuckles; I know I’ve been difficult today, and I need to make amends. “What’s on your mind?”
“Never playing poker with you.” Lucas laughs a little, his gaze on the grass in front of him.
“But it would go so well for me.”
I wait, patiently, while Lucas searches for the perfect words. I’ve long since given up trying to convince him to spit out the rough draft of his thoughts. The wind swirls around us, other visitors stroll by in groups, pointing to the various attractions.
“Eluva’s making me an offer.” It’s a complete sentence, and yet the way he pauses, it’s clearly not everything Lucas wants to say. Finally, an eternity later, Lucas contributes another sentence that’s clearly also not the full story. “I can start any Monday up to six months after graduation.”
Considering a return offer is what everyone—Lucas included—was hoping for, I start guessing at his potential reservations.
“I’m happy to keep checking on Levi and Leno.
Once they’re heading into college application season, my English skills are going to be far more helpful than your general college anxiety. ”
Silence. A nod.
“Brody and I will be disqualified after this year’s worlds.”
Lucas starts plucking individual blades of grass with his short nails. Snip, flick. Snip, toss.
Okay.
“It’s less than a three-hour flight, and we can look into trains if it’s really an issue.”
He takes off his glasses, wipes them awkwardly, given he’s still propped on one shoulder. Puts the glasses back on. “You’re not going to ask me what the offer is?”
“It’s fintech. I can more or less guess.”
“It’s generous, Lorelai. More than I’d hoped for.
I’m sure it’s only one of those things people say, but the CEO met with me personally, said my reviews are the best they’ve seen from a summer intern.
” Lucas flushes a little, uncomfortable with praise, as always.
“He said they wanted to make me an offer strong enough to circumvent a bidding war, even though no one else has offered.”
“To be fair, you never applied anywhere else.” It had been our plan to start this month, if we didn’t hear from Eluva.
The perk of attending a place like Caltech was that everyone knew when the interviews were happening, the Discords were full of analysis on recent interview questions and offers, meaning if Lucas says this offer is generous, well, given his propensity for understatement . . .
Lucas continues in his slow and deliberate way. His voice is monotonous, a doctor delivering a serious prognosis. “There’s also a housing relocation bonus that could easily be the downpayment for a condo and a separate sign-on bonus.”
I bite down on my lip because, usually, Lucas is a very goal-oriented man. And considering this seems like the best-case scenario, I’m struggling to connect the dots. “Is this a commitment thing? Whole life flashing before your eyes? Or is there some other catch I’m missing?”
“There’s no catch.”
I wait a beat. “Lucas Sebastian Murray.”
He lets out a long sigh. “I’ve been toying with an idea of my own, a novel investment strategy.” He winces at the word novel, and I finally understand.
“Dunning-Kruger effect?”
Lucas looks up, a small smile finally breaking through.
“Exactly. What if, after a mere summer working at a hedge fund, I think I know more than I do? I go out on my own only to realize I was too ignorant to truly measure my own . . . stupidity? The safe play is obviously to take the offer. I should have already signed, right?”
“And you can’t do both?” I hear the question in my voice and immediately correct myself, because I know better. “You can’t do both.”
“Eluva’s offering a monstrous amount of money. Of course, the contract is basically indentured servitude. There’s a clause mandating a cooling-off period. If I start and then quit, I’d have to basically garden for twelve months.”
“Golden handcuffs. You’re supposed to be too busy admiring the gold to care.”
“Yes.” Lucas shakes his head, the dark-brown strands a little overlong again, because it’s the length I prefer and I don’t cut it until it’s actually bothering him.
“I don’t know why I’m hesitating. The bonus alone pays for a year of college for both twins. I could also move my mother into a better place.”
I smile because of course Lucas’s first thought is about providing for his family. “But you’d like to start something of your own.”
“Crazy.” He swallows, finally looking up at me, his eyes bright behind thick lenses. “Right?”
His hesitancy tells me everything. “Not crazy.”
“Who doesn’t dream of golden fetters?”
I pull Lucas’s face toward mine. A dandelion drifts past because this is some kind of weird pastoral paradise where the trees have titles and even the weeds know how to make an entrance.
“You saved up all the Eluva money from last summer, right?”
“You know I did. You helped me open the accounts.”
“Then go for it.” I don’t say it lightly. But neither do I feel the need to go through all the minutiae with him.
Lucas and I are the people who write on the covers of our notebooks, not letting a single line or margin go wasted. He has a drawer of extra ketchup packets in his home, same as I do, from the few times we’ve ordered takeout. Because bottled ketchup is too bougie for the likes of us.
We’re overthinkers, overplanners. Stingy to the point of parsimony.
“My brothers—”
“The twins are happy fighting over one computer and sharp enough to make their own way. And your mom’s never moving.
She loves that apartment, cares about and for every single tenant as though she’s their landlord.
” I lay my hand on his heart, leaning into the steady beat there.
Lucas has never been muscular, but there’s a solidity to his chest now that he’s had a summer of food, has started to sometimes run in the mornings and weekends, because he no longer needs to work as an electrician.
“More than anything, your family wants you to be happy.”
“We could become official? Your father might prefer me if I’m the fintech guy.
” There’s a wistfulness in his words that I absolutely hate.
And there’s no way for me to explain that most likely, for my father, someone of Lucas’s background will never be good enough.
And that until my sisters are older and can fend for themselves . . .
“Maybe I’ll be the fintech guy,” I joke, to sidestep the issue. “Maybe I’d rather my pretend or real boyfriend pursue his dreams.”
Lucas kisses me then, relaxing into me now that he’s gotten through what I assume is the worst of what he’s been worrying over.
Because we’ve been together long enough to know each other’s bodies, the shortcuts we can take when we feel like it, it’s not long before I need to remind him that we’re at the Huntington Library, and neither of us is into voyeurism.
“We should go back to your room,” Lucas breathes, seemingly unable to move his lips completely away.
“We should have started in my room.”
It’s not a long walk back to campus, but I can practically feel the tension wafting off Lucas. By the time I’ve locked the door behind us, he’s already stripped to his boxers, and for the first time in a long time, we’re fumbling, a bit awkward almost, in our haste.
He waits until after, when we’re shrouded in the dark, to admit the rest. “It’s a huge gamble.
I’d have to find investors, work insane hours.
I’d have to use everything I saved up, meaning I’d live at home and be one of those guys who can’t afford to pay himself.
Also, I’ll be burning the Eluva offer, and statistically, most companies don’t make it—”
I kiss his mouth to shush him.
Only when I’m certain he’s stopped spiraling do I get up. For my second paper, my father’s assistant sent the bonus directly to me. I also have an additional seventy-eight dollars in my wallet, which I take out for kicks. “Here’s $1,578, to get you started.”
I can’t see it, because we haven’t turned on any lights, but I can hear Lucas swallow, can almost taste the faint smile in his words.
“That’s a lot of money,” he says, even though I know it’s nothing next to what he’s squirreled away these last few months, a drop in the bucket against what he’d need to raise to be taken seriously in this arena.
“After last year, I can’t give up our two-month safety net, but other than that, I’m basically investing”—I make a show of opening the wallet, showing him the loose change there—“ninety-eight percent of my net worth, if you don’t count the two-for-one Sourdough Jack coupon I’ve been saving.”
Lucas reaches forward to grasp my hand, as if he doesn’t quite believe my words. “It’ll mean a lot more ten-dollar dates. A lot more nights spent figuring out how to dress up instant ramen.”
“No need to experiment. Crushing it and eating it like chips is the clear winner.”
“Truly?”
I squeeze his hand back. “There are two things I’ll never joke about: ramen and your mom’s granola.”
Lucas lets out a tortured laugh. “You haven’t even asked what the idea is.”
“Oh don’t worry, I’m ready, willing and kind of dying to point out every flaw.”
“And yet—”
“I don’t need the details, Lucas.” I wait until he meets my gaze and holds it, so he can see the sincerity in my eyes. “I know you. I trust you.”