Chapter Text
Lucas opened his eyes, raising a hand to block out the blinding sunlight streaming through the curtains he’d forgotten to close last night, though he acknowledged some other unknown force had pulled him out of his peaceful sleep.
He glanced over at the open door, catching sight of the darkened bedroom across the hall, bed neatly made and empty, meaning Mike had already left.
The mattress vibrated under him, once, then twice, and he realized why he’d even woken up in the first place.
Stupid phone.
He fell back down against the pillow, burying his face in the fabric and groaning as he contemplated almost letting himself fall back asleep, before the vibrating shook him again and he reached for his phone, unplugging it from the charger as he rolled to his back, clicking the power button and shrinking back from the brightness of the pale blue screen.
His eyebrows knit together in confusion at the abundance of messages crowding his usual morning notifications.
Mike: Had to leave a little bit early. See you in class. (5:40 am)
Will-The-Wise: We still on for the gym today? (6:43 am)
Lucas? (6:44 am)
You up? (6:47 am)
If you don’t answer in five minutes I’m going without you. (6:50 am)
Dusty-Bun: Bro where are you? (7:30 am)
Partner assignments are today. Hurry up. (7:48 am)
Dude, seriously!!!! (7:56 am)
Where are you??? (8:00 am)
You better be up. (8:01 am)
If you bail on me like you bailed on Will this morning I swear I’ll kill you. (8:01 am)
I cannot be stuck with Chad all over again. Please Lucas. (8:02 am)
Instagram: @epsn posted a new video
@nbascouting tagged you in a photo
@overtime liked your video
@mikewheeler, willthewise, and 20 others liked your post
NBAMobile: NBA Power Rankings 🔥
Steph Curry goes off against the Lakers
El: Where are you??? (7:45 am)
Are you okay? (8:00 am)
Lucas Charles Sinclair! (8:00 am)
ANSWER LUCAS. (8:04 am)
The Town’s Finest:
Caleb: Practice @ 3. Don’t be late or we’re running double. (8:15 am)
JJ: Especially you, Chance. (8:15 am)
Chance: Last I checked we ran because of Jake. (8:15 am)
Jake: UH, LIES. We ran because Caleb wouldn’t drive fast enough. (8:16 am)
53 New Messages.
Caleb: you see overtime reposted your highlight vid on their story???
Famous now or something?
The Boys Basketball group chat didn’t surprise him at all, because he woke up to the guys being annoying every morning, but the other messages…
He scrolled through each of his friends' texts, before cautiously glancing up at the time, almost afraid to see the result.
8:37 am
Lucas swore, jumping out of bed and throwing his phone somewhere over his shoulder, hearing it bounce off the mattress and onto the carpeted floor as he threw open his chest of drawers, reaching for the nearest t-shirt he could find and throwing it on before reaching for the pair of jeans hanging over the office chair in front of his desk.
He pulled one end over his leg, hopping towards where he’d left his shoes and nearly tripping over the rug in the process.
He reached for his phone on the bed, but couldn’t find it, spinning around a couple times before the light reflected off the screen where it lay half hidden under the bed. He snatched it, and now fully dressed, ran across the hall to the bathroom, brushing his teeth in record time before splashing a handful of ice-cold water over his face to wake himself up completely. He ruffled his hair in the mirror, accepting his fate that it wasn’t gonna look as neat today as it usually did and hurried out of the bathroom.
He scrambled to collect all the things he’d carelessly left on his desk and scattered around both the living room and his bedroom last night, throwing his laptop and notebooks inside his backpack while cursing himself for letting Mike convince them all into signing up for an 8am class, and for forgetting to set an alarm after staying up so late.
Stupid Mario Kart, and stupid practice.
Throwing his bag over his shoulder and grabbing his keys off the hook, he sprinted down the stairs, too impatient to wait for an elevator right now. He climbed into his car, tossing his bag into the passenger seat and hoping that today wasn’t one of the days his poor little 2002 Honda Civic would decide to not start.
“Cmon cmon cmon.” He whispered to himself, twisting the ignition and letting out a breath of relief when he heard the engine rumble to life and the AC kick on. “Thank you.”
_____
Mike checked his watch again, glancing over at El, shrugging in answer to the question she was asking him through her expression.
“Anything?” Will asked. Mike shook his head.
Lucas wasn’t usually late. Never actually.
So the fact that he was missing thirty—almost forty—minutes into class and was totally MIA, was a little concerning.
“I’m gonna kill him.” Dustin whispered over his shoulder, looking up at the two of them from his seat in front of them, the usual occupied spot beside him currently empty. “Swear to you, if he shows up, I’ll kill him. Right here.”
_____
Lucas pulled out his phone, ignoring the usual picture of the Party smiling back at him from the Home Screen as he checked the time for the millionth time. He swore under his breath, the string of curse words consistent with his half-walking half-jogging pace.
He looked up, just in time to run full speed into someone, knocking them to the ground and sending their own stuff spilling out onto the floor as he froze in place.
“Dude!” He looked down at the girl, shoving his phone back into his pocket as he reached out to help her.
“Sorry.” He said, gritting his teeth together when she ignored his hand and pushed herself up off the floor, leaning down to pick up her notebooks, pens, phone and earbuds, shoving them back into her open backpack and pockets.
Her hair was fire red, reaching just past her shoulders, the slight waves framing her face as she looked up at him, zipping the bag and pulling it over her shoulder. He couldn’t help but notice the skateboard strapped to the back of it.
“Take a picture, Stalker. It’ll last longer.” She bit, wiping herself off.
“I said sorry!” He defended.
“Okay, and?” She cocked an eyebrow, a challenge.
He rolled his eyes. Sheesh this girl had a temper.
“What more do you want from me?” He snapped. “To send you a postcard with a written apology too?”
The girl rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest. “Not one for first impressions, are you, hotshot?”
“You know what, whatever.” He pulled out his phone, a few more group chat messages popping up silently on the screen as the time changed yet another digit.
He swore under his breath, pushing past her towards the stairs, taking them two at a time until he reached the next floor, weaving through the few wandering students as he reached the lecture hall, opening the door a little more aggressively than intended.
The professor froze halfway through his sentence, every pair of eyes in the room turning towards him as he stood in the doorway.
Perfect.
“Mr. Sinclair. Nice of you to finally join us.” Professor Jacobs said, half annoyed as he turned back to the PowerPoint.
Lucas saluted the man half-heartedly, before pushing forward and climbing the subtle steps to his seat beside Dustin.
“About time.” The boy growled. “Where. Were you?”
“Sorry—”
“Where have you been, man?” Mike hissed, leaning over his chair from behind. “Forty-five minutes—!”
“Forgot to set an alarm.” He said vaguely, pulling off his backpack.
“Oh, so you decided to just not answer any texts at all?” El jumped in. “Real smooth, Sinclair. Really.”
“I was in a rush.”
“Too much of a rush to tell us you weren’t dead?” Will asked from Dustin’s other side.
He rolled his eyes, setting the bag at his feet and unzipping it. “Pretty much, yeah.”
“Your shirt’s on backwards.”
“You’re joking—.”
The door opened once again, quieter and less distracting than Lucas had, but turned the attention away from him for half a second as he pulled his arms inside his t-shirt and flipped it around.
Half a second he wished he could take back when he saw who was standing there.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…”
“Ms. Mayfeild? Nice of you to join us.” Professor Jacobs greeted, only slightly less annoyed than he’d been when Lucas had crashed through the doorway.
“That’s the only quip he’s got, huh?” Dustin snickered, elbowing him in the side.
“I transferred over from Chandler.” The girl said
cooly, hoisting her backpack higher over her shoulder.
“I’m aware.” The man said, gesturing over his desk. “Now would you like to take a seat or are we going to have yet another interruption?”
She rolled her eyes, the door swinging shut behind her as she moved away from the doorway.
The moment she looked up, her eyes met his for half a second, and Lucas saw the panic and annoyance flash across her face before she quickly sat down in an isolated seat several rows in front of him at the end of the aisle.
“Hey.” Dustin said, nodding his head towards the girl. “Did you catch the board on her back?”
“Yep.”
“So she’s cool, and she's cute!”
“Yeah, whatever. She’s got an attitude. You can have her.”
Dustin’s eyes lit up. “You know her?”
“Unfortunately.” Lucas deadpanned.
“Dude, introduce me.” His friend said excitedly.
“No. Not like that.” He groaned. “I ran into her in the hallway. Don’t even know her name.”
“Way to let me down, bro.”
“Kinda the theme of today.” He reminded, pulling out his laptop and opening a half-completed Google Docs page as he started to copy the notes off the board.
______
“Mr. Sinclair? A word.” Lucas paused halfway to the door, closing his eyes and blowing out a silent breath as he turned around to face his professor, hand tightening around his backpack strap. Mike told him they’d meet him in the cafeteria and pat him on the back as the others followed him out, and Lucas smiled tightly, doing everything in his power not to throw his head back in annoyance.
“Look, sir. I’m sorry about this morning—” he started.
“Not that son.” The man said, beckoning a finger to someone over Lucas’ shoulder. “You too, Ms. Mayfield.”
Lucas forced himself not to groan when the girl from the hallway came to a stop beside him, purposely keeping a reasonable distance between them, her arms folded across her chest.
“As you’re probably aware,” their professor started. “Assignments for the Final Project were assigned today, which both of you missed.”
Lucas swallowed, keeping his eyes ahead. “So, on that note, you will both need a partner—”
“I can pair up with Dustin.” He offered quickly.
“Mr. Henderson has already chosen to be assigned with Mr. Byers. But, there are, fortunately for you, only two people that have not been assigned, so you won’t have to do your project solo.”
He pointed one finger each at the two of them, and Lucas finally turned to look at the girl, the shocked expression on her face masking his own as the realization of what the older man was suggesting set in.
He scoffed. “You’re kidding me.”
“Is that a problem?” The man pressed.
“N-no I just mean—”
“That’s fine…sir.” The girl said, almost wincing as she said the word, like it physically pained her to say it.
“Good. I expect the two of you will handle this as adults, and that you will both be on time tomorrow. Correct?”
“Yes, sir.” The two of them echoed.
“Good. You are dismissed.”
Lucas stepped out of the lecture hall, leaning up against the wall as the girl followed him out, the door closing behind the two of them, leaving them alone in an empty, silent hallway. He hated that people still thought they had power over him, even as a grown adult.
“I’m not happy about it either, you know.” The girl spoke. “You could do a little better at hiding it.”
He rolled his eyes, ignoring the way his phone buzzed in his pocket, probably Mike wondering what Professor Jacobs had wanted to talk about.
“You really just like to poke at people, don't you?” He quipped.
She shrugged nonchalantly, fishing her phone out of her pocket. “That’s my specialty, I've been told.”
“Clearly.”
“Give me your number.”
He hesitated. “Excuse me?”
“If we’re gonna be forced to do this stupid project together, the least we could do is split it up so that we can talk to each other as little as possible. Right?”
“Yeah…?”
“So—” She handed him her phone, open to a new contact. “Let’s just get it over with. Yeah?”
He blew out a breath, taking the phone and typing his name and number into the corresponding fields before handing it back to her.
“Lucas?” She said, reading over it.
“What, my name’s not good enough for you either?”
“Chill out dude, I never said that, it’s just…not the name I was expecting.” She shrugged and pocketed it into the back of her jeans as she held out her hand. “Phone.”
He pulled his own out of his front pocket, opening a new contact and handing it to her.
“What were you expecting?” He couldn’t help but ask.
“I don’t know, some basic guy’s name like…like Peter or John or something.”
“Wow, okay.” He scoffed. She handed his phone back, and he instinctively looked down at it, catching the three letters on the line.
“Max?” He read it off.
“Didn’t expect that either huh?” She teased, though this time he didn’t sense the harshness she’d been speaking with before. Progress.
“No…fits you though.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, Stalker?”
“I don’t know, it just…fits. I don’t know.”
He tucked his phone back into his pocket, and Lucas tried to tell himself he’d imagined the slight smile as she started forward. “Later loser.”
He groaned internally, stepping sideways so that she could slip past him, already preparing himself for hating the rest of this semester.
_______
Max let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in as she pushed open the double doors and stepped outside into the warm air, sucking in lungfuls of fresh air. The classrooms inside the building were always so suffocating, holding her back from getting up and running. She always had to be moving, and sitting still didn’t do anything to help the nerves of wanting to do something.
She dropped her board to the ground, hopping onto it and slipping in an airpod as she started to coast down the sidewalk.
She wondered how ironic people would think it was if they knew she was listening to Taylor Swift; the skater girl with the cool exterior that didn’t take crap from anyone, listening to breakup songs about a relationship she’d never been in.
She popped the back end of the board up a little, redirecting her course to the skatepark just down the block.
She didn’t have any classes until two. Guess that’s what she got for transferring to the only open lecture there was at 8am, but she couldn’t take anymore of Professor Chandler’s sexism, so eight was better than eleven. Anything that got her away from the arguments that started in that class, when no one else but her fought back.
Getting assigned a partner for a final project on her first day had been kinda annoying, especially because it just so happened to be the first person who had managed to piss her off today.
Lucas.
She couldn’t get the image of his stupid face out of her head, with his kinda-flat top fade but bushier and fuller and spikier than a flat top usually was, and his cool jacket and hightops and that stupid confused look in his eye when he finally looked up from his phone to realize he’d practically bulldozed her to the ground.
She skipped the next song, dragging her maroon Vans against the ground to stop and popping her board up to jump the railing that surrounded the empty skatepark.
She could tell it was mostly abandoned, the only sign of life was the new graffiti that had clearly been left by teenage boys over the weekend. She could practically hear them giggling as they ran away leaving giant purple anatomical body parts on the ground.
She dropped her bag, leaning it up against the small tree that provided the only shade around the concrete area and turned up the volume of the music in her ear, dropping her phone in the grass beside her bag so that it didn’t get broken falling out of her pocket.
The metal railings in the middle of the park had started to fall apart, but enough was still bolted to the ground that she could practice her tricks. The bottom of her board was more scraped up than ever, but Max smiled to herself as she landed a successful boardslide on the first try.
She skated over to the large stretch of flat concrete and practiced her backside 180’s, managing to get a few clean lands in between her many screw ups and bails.
Back in California, the skateparks had always been full of teenage boys years older than her. They’d always insisted on belittling her or skating too close to try to knock her down. She’d learned how to handle it, how to flip it on them and make them stumble instead, embarrass them in front of their buddies, but empty skateparks had never been a luxury.
Even in the early mornings, or late at night after all the streetlights had come on, there were still a few wandering stragglers that stayed behind with her.
In those early mornings and late nights, she wasn’t picked on, she learned new tricks that she and Nate had watched on YouTube then mastered them in her bedroom or the backyard when she had the time.
After they’d moved from California, there weren’t many skateparks she could go to anymore, and no one to go with. Most of her time had been spent building jumps by herself in the street in front of her house, only to find them broken the next day and starting all over again.
But here? No one came here. It was like her own private area, her own safe space that no one could take away from her, or cared to take away from her.
She practiced drop-ins on the half pipe for a while, experimenting what she could do when she made it back up the top of the other side, which in turn gave her a lot of cuts and gravel scrapes on her hands.
The sting was nice, in a way, a reminder that she was getting better, progressing. One day she’d be able to do it without messing up, and she’d move on to the next thing, the next trick, maybe even make her own.
She huffed, sitting at the bottom of the bowl as her board rolled away, finally hitting the curved wall and starting back towards her. She stood up, brushing her hands off on her pants and bending down to pick it up, starting back to the top of the ledge.
By the time she dropped down into the relief of the shade below the tree and picked up her phone, she was panting hard, a thin layer of sweat covering her face from the sun beating down on her.
Her home screen was empty, per usual, except for the single message that never failed to appear everyday.
Mom: Have you thought about it some more, honey?
She rolled her eyes, clearing away the message and instead making a new thread with the new contact she’d created, typing out a message just to get it over with and standing up, popping her board into her hand and picking up her backpack, starting back for her apartment to make herself lunch before class.
_______
“So, her name is Max?” Dustin said excitedly, tossing another French fry into his mouth before crumpling up his empty Wendy’s bag.
“Yes it is. I don’t know why you’re so excited about this.” Lucas said, taking a bite of his chicken nugget, then dunking the remaining bite in barbecue sauce and eating that too.
“Because. Now I have something to go off of.”
“Haven’t you learned by now?” Will asked from across the picnic table, lowering his drink from his mouth. “Dustin will do anything—absolutely anything— to get a girl.”
“Yeah, and how has that worked out for ya.” Mike teased, taking a sip of his Coke. “Was singing in the rain and getting hypothermia not enough to convince you to give up?”
“Screw you.” Dustin said, playfully flicking a wrapper at him.
“I thought it was sweet.” El said. “He put a long time and a lot of thought into that song.”
“Thank you, El.” Dustin said.
“ ‘Jenny you’re worth more than my pennies’?” Will recited. “You think that was sweet?”
“I don’t know man, if some girl told me I was worth more than ten cents.” Lucas blew out an exaggerated breath, sucking his teeth. “I’d be a dime.”
“You’re already a dime.” Will teased, winking at him.
“You know it, Byers.”
Dustin glared at him as Mike snickered, doing his best to keep his soda in his mouth.
“You should’ve said that.” Will told him, turning to look at him across the table now. “ ‘Dime’ and ‘fine’ rhyme a lot better than ‘boohoo’ and ‘sugar-poo’.”
“Jennnnnnyyyy!” Lucas sang loudly. Dustin reached forward, covering his mouth as a few passing girls glanced in their direction.
“Shut up.” Dustin warned. Lucas smacked his hand away, laughing as he turned back to his food.
He was thankful for the shade of the tree they were sitting under, the sun beating down mercilessly on everyone else in the park.
Eating outside was better than on campus, the cafeteria crowded too close together in the heat that shown through the large windows in rays of sunlight.
The park was right across the street, surrounded by enough fast food restaurants that they could all choose different ones and still meet back at the picnic table if they wanted.
Lots of kids came to play on the playground at this time of day, watched closely by their parents as they ran around making new friends.
Lucas felt a tug on his shirt, and when he looked down, found a little boy maybe four or five years old looking up at him, holding a tiny football in his hands and extending it out to him.
“Hey, buddy.” He smiled. The others all turned towards him, leaning over the table to see their newest member of the conversation.
“Ball.” The boy said.
“Oh, yeah, I see that, is it your football?”
“Ball.” The boy nodded, dropping it in Lucas’ lap and climbing up next to him on the bench.
“Looks like you’re a dad now.” Mike told him as the boy picked up the ball and climbed into his lap, sitting with him as he reached for one of the fries on the crinkled paper of his already eaten hamburger.
“I wish.” He said, leaning over the smaller boy. He beamed up at him, showing him the fry he’d picked up. “Hey, buddy.”
The boy laughed, and Lucas smiled.
“No, no, no Matthew, that’s not yours.” A woman said, hurrying over as the little boy shoved his whole fist into his mouth, squishing the fry between his fingers. “I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, he’s fine.” Lucas said, looking down at the kid in his lap. “He was just showing me his football.”
“Mom!” The boy said, making grabby hands at the woman and completely forgetting about Lucas, his food and the football.
Lucas laughed, picking the boy up and handing him to his mother as she held her hands out, handing her the football afterwards.
“Sorry to bother you.”
“No, you didn’t. All good.”
“Say goodbye.”
“Bye bye.” Matthew said, waving goodbye to him. Lucas waved back, watching as the smaller boy threw his football over his mom's shoulder back towards them, only managing to drop it right at her feet before she crouched down to pick it up, his laughter echoing back to them.
“Why do all kids love you?” El asked.
He shrugged, leaning back over his food. “It’s a gift.”
“Clearly, you’ve got nothing else.” Mike snorted.
“Hey, we’re making fun of Dustin’s love life right now.” He said, rekindling the previous conversation as a distraction.
“No, we’re not!” The boy in question objected. “We’re talking about your cute new lab partner.”
“Exactly.”
“Hey, you never know.” El said, patting Dustin’s back. “Maybe it’ll work out this time.”
Will snorted and Mike choked on his drink as they both laughed involuntarily, which only made Dustin exclaim that El was right, trying desperately to defend himself against the boy’s relentless teasing.
Lucas felt his phone buzz and pulled it out of his pocket, a new message at the top of the screen.
Max: Can we meet together after classes?
Actually get started on this so I don’t have to see your face everyday?
He scoffed, typing out a reply.
Lucas: i’ve got basketball practice. besides, you should feel blessed seeing this thing of beauty.
Max: Whatever you gotta say to make yourself fall asleep at night, Sinclair.
And great, I got stuck with the jock still stuck in high school as a partner.
Lucas: practice ends @ 5 we can meet later.
Max: oh so now you’re free?
He rolled his eyes.
Lucas: you wanna get this done or not?
Max: Better late than never. Your place?
Lucas: unless you’re prepared to listen to mike and el sweet talk/makeout for three hours i don’t think you wanna go to mine.
Max: You're right. I don't. Meet at mine @6. #343 in South.
Lucas: okay. see ya then.
He turned off his phone, letting himself filter back into his friend's conversation about Dustin’s failed love life enough to crack another joke.
______
Max opened another cupboard, searching for the pack of goldfish she could’ve sworn she put away yesterday, but the cupboard was getting suspiciously empty.
She glanced at the clock on the oven: 5:30. She needed to eat something that would hold her out until she decided to make dinner—or more heat up ramen for the fourth night in a row—but nothing but goldfish sounded appetizing right now.
She’d been postponing shopping as long as possible, all the extra money she earned this month going to the jar on her night stand for the car she desperately needed.
A skateboard could only get her so far.
She finally found a half pack of Ritz crackers that would have to work, grabbing the almost empty jar of peanut butter from beside it and dropping them both onto the counter.
Her phone buzzed from beside her, face up against the countertop, and she leaned over to read it, expecting Lucas to say practice was going to go long or something and reschedule, but instead it was the next worst thing.
Mom: Max, sweetie I know this is hard for you
“No, you don’t.” She scoffed, jabbing at the peanut butter a little too aggressively and getting a lot more on the knife than she’d meant to, scraping it off on the mouth of the jar.
Another message. The double texting was new lately.
Mom: please answer, Max. This is serious.
She picked up her phone and shoved it into her pocket, picking up her plate of crackers and sliding the jar of peanut butter back into the cupboard.
She’d postpone the message as long as possible, though she wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold out.
For now, she had to finish all the work she’d been assigned today before Lucas came over to start the project. Ugh, Lucas. He was gonna know where she lived. Great.
She groaned, dropping down onto the couch and spreading out her notes.
______
“Sinclair! You’re late.” A voice boomed, followed by a whistle that signaled everyone else to get on the line as he jogged through the doorway and onto the court.
There was no ball rack in the gym.
“Yeah, yeah.” Lucas said pathetically, jogging to his place at the baseline. He’d forgotten his basketball stuff back at the dorm in the rush this morning and hadn’t noticed until he’d gotten to the arena that his duffle bag wasn’t in the backseat of his car. He’d had to go all the way back, losing his parking spot.
Waking up late this morning had seriously screwed up his schedule.
“Dude, what did I say? First thing this morning?” Caleb said, falling into position beside him as they lined up on the baseline. Caleb was his best friend on the team. He had curly blonde hair, shaved on the sides but longer on the top, and a usual white compression shirt hugged the muscles of his shoulders under his practice jersey as he leaned over.
“I know.” Lucas apologized. “Bad day, okay. Lot going on. I’m sorry.”
“You’re gonna be sorry when everyone’s pissed at you after this.” Chance said from his other side. Unlike Caleb, Chance always wore black, his sleeveless workout shirt barely visible underneath his own jersey. His hair was similar to Caleb’s; shaved on the sides and longer on top, but slicked back in a way Lucas had never seen anyone else pull off. Chance had always had that cool exterior, his electric blue eyes standing out against tanned skin and black hair.
“Yeah,” he nodded, looking around at the younger players as they glared at him. “Yeah, I got that.”
“On your mark!” Coach yelled, clicking the button of his watch from the sideline as he blew the whistle, signaling them to start. “We’re running 12’s”
The boys all groaned.
This was gonna be a long practice.
_____
Lucas tossed his basketball bag onto his bed as he lowered himself onto the floor, laying on his stomach and pulling his phone out of his shorts pocket, unlocking it with his thumb print and opening the messages app.
He played both Will and Dustin back in Game Pigeon, finishing off his game of Pool against Dustin with a win and sending Will his next turn of Cup Pong.
The message from Mike had been floating around on his Home Screen for over an hour, letting him know that he and El were studying at either her place or the library, and that he wouldn’t be back until later. Guess it hadn’t mattered if Max had come here to work or not.
Max.
He checked the time, realizing he had to be over at her apartment in less than 25 minutes.
“Crap.” He groaned, pushing himself up off the ground and grabbing a clean t-shirt and pair of shorts as he crossed the hall to the bathroom.
He reluctantly switched on the shower, keeping the water cold but not too cold as he stood under the stream, letting it run over him and his sore muscles as he washed all of the post-workout sweat off of himself.
He changed into his clean clothes, his white cotton t-shirt hanging crooked on his neck as he left the bathroom, slipping on a pair of slides as he grabbed his backpack and left his dorm for the third time that day.
The building had been harder to find than he’d thought. He’d known where the South building was, but trying to maneuver his car there through the crowds of college students not willing to drive took longer than expected.
He took the first parking spot he’d found—three blocks away—and booked it, taking the elevator to the third floor only because his legs were still sore from running seventy seven up and backs and scrimmaging to end practice.
He double checked his phone for the dorm number, knocking against the heavy wooden door as he stopped in front of it.
“It’s about time.” Max said, opening the door, a bowl of half-eaten ramen in her hands as she turned her back to him and walked deeper into the apartment. “Are you usually just late to everything?”
“No.” He deadpanned, following her in and closing the door behind him. “Just been a weird day.”
“Why?” She asked, slurping some noodles off her fork, sounding actually curious and not judgemental since the first time he’d met her this morning.
“Not important.” He waved her off, making his way towards the living room where various papers and books were strewn on the coffee table, dropping his bag on the couch and sitting down beside it.
Max rolled her eyes, abandoning her bowl of noodles on the counter behind her as she followed and sat down beside him, collecting her things before replacing them with the needed materials for the class, pulling out a notebook and opening it up to reveal pages of filled, pen-scratched notes, the words messier by the time they reached the bottom of the paper.
He looked around the room as she pulled out her laptop, his eyes flicking over the almost bare necessities in the kitchen to where a single pair of shoes and—not surprisingly—the same skateboard he’d seen early sat propped up next to the door.
“Your roommate gone?” He asked curiously, mostly to start conversation so he didn’t have to deal with the awkward silence.
“Don’t have one.” She said, scribbling down a few more words against her page. “The one they assigned me bailed last minute to move in with a couple of her friends who suddenly had an opening.”
“Oh.” He said, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Sorry.”
She shrugged, scoffing. “I’m not. It’s nice to come back to somewhere quiet after being around people all day, even if my rent is a little higher by myself. Besides,” she shut her notebook, standing up from the couch as she shot him a look over his shoulder. “I’m used to being alone.”
Lucas nodded in understanding, wanting to question her about her last statement, but instead leaned over to pull out his own laptop from his backpack as Max picked up her bowl of food once more.
“Did you eat already, Superstar?”
“What? Are you gonna feed me?” He looked up, finding her pinning him with a look as she leaned her back against the island counter, one he almost shrunk away from. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Your loss.” She said, twirling the noodles around her fork and shoving them into her mouth, before crossing the kitchen to open the fridge.
“Water?” She asked, holding up a plastic bottle with one hand, while the other held the open door at an arm's length away.
“What, no special treatment for the ‘superstar’?” He teased. “No apple juice in there?”
“Ha ha very funny, not all of us live in luxury. Do you want one or not, Stalker?”
He rolled his eyes at the nickname, knowing it was gonna stick for the entirety of them working on this project together.
“Sure. Whatever. Thanks.” She tossed it to him, dropping back beside him on the couch with her Ramen as he pulled up all the notes he’d typed in a Google doc, opening her own bottle as she peered over his shoulder.
“So how’re we splitting this?”
“Not sure.” Lucas answered, successfully pulling up the project plan. “It looks like we’ve gotta have a six page minimum essay along with a daily log.” He said, highlighting the words with his cursor as he read.
“That’s not including the main sections.”
“Which are?”
Lucas listed out the five separate sections, the two of them comparing notes to split them up evenly, with minimal arguing, much to Lucas’ surprise.
An hour later they had managed to narrow down their main topic to the top three options and their separate designated topics to research, agreeing between the two of them that they would alternate working on the log and the essay as they went.
Lucas looked up from his computer screen, the cursor blinking as he tried to come up with the words he wanted to type next. His eyes caught a small framed picture on the table closest to Max’s side of the couch.
There were two people, one that was obviously her, maybe ten or more years younger than she was now, and a man, probably her father. His hair was darker and he was paler than her but they had the same eyes, similarities that he couldn’t really name but he could see.
“Is that your dad?” He asked, finally breaking the silence as he gestured behind her with the pen in his hand. Max looked up, before following the path over her shoulder.
“Oh. Yeah. It is.” She turned back to her laptop, not elaborating like he thought she would.
“I can tell.” He said. “You guys look alike.”
“I don’t see it.” She mumbled, not looking up.
Lucas rolled his eyes, blowing out a breath. She made this a lot more difficult than it needed to be.
“Is that Disney?” She looked up again, confusion etched into her expression.
“What?”
“The picture.” He said, pointing again. “Disneyland?”
She didn’t look at the picture again, already having the location memorized.
“Yeah, it is. We used to go a lot since we lived in California. I think that picture was the last time I went with him.”
“Wait—You’re from Cali?”
“Is that so unbelievable?” She asked, smirking. “Because I’m not blonde and tan and falling all over you just because you play sports. I can fake it if you want. Oooh Lucas you’re so strong—”
“No.” Lucas laughed shortly, cutting off her mocking. “It just…explains the skateboard.” He gestured over his shoulder towards the front door.
She shrugged. “It’s cheaper than a car. More fun too.”
“Are you any good?”
“I can guarantee I’m better than you’re assuming I am.” She promised.
“But it’s not just the skateboard.” He said. ”You also haven’t said anything weird like…like ‘Tubular’ or anything.”
She scoffed. “Tubular? What are we living in the eighties?”
“I don’t know, don’t people from California have weird slang or something?”
“They didn’t when I was there.” She said, but her smile faltered, her eyes falling back to the notebook in her lap, the mood shifting. Crap.
He backtracked, jumping back to the previous statement instead.
“Is that why you just stopped going?” He asked, genuinely curious. “To Disney? Because you moved.”
Max was silent for a moment, and for a second he almost thought she didn’t hear him, opening his mouth to ask again when she finally decided to speak. “We stopped going way before we moved. When my mom remarried.” The hesitation and bite of the last word told him she wasn’t happy about her mom being with someone other than her biological father.
“Oh.” He said stupidly, not really knowing what else to say. “Sorry.”
“Yeah,” she said bitterly, her pencil scratching harsher against the lined paper. “Me too.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the only sounds coming from Max’s pencil as it scratched against the surface of the paper beneath her hand.
“Well, maybe you can go next time you visit Cali.” He offered.
“Yeah,” she scoffed. “Fat chance.”
“What, why?”
“I can’t go visit him.” He’d meant Disneyland, not her dad, but now he was curious.
“Why not?”
“Because I can't, Lucas.”
“Does your mom not let you see him or—”
“He’s dead, okay?” Lucas’ next question caught in the back of his throat. Max refused to look up, her red hair falling like a curtain in front of her face. “He died in a car crash when I was twelve.”
He swallowed, trying to think of something to say, to tell her he was sorry, but none of it seemed like enough. He could see the way it still hurt her. He felt like he’d crossed a line prying. She already didn’t like him very much, he didn’t need to make it worse for himself.
“Not like it matters though.” She continued bitterly. “We still would’ve moved anyways. Neil wasn’t gonna let us stay there after Billy.”
“Billy?”
“My stepbrother.” She spit, his name sour on her tongue. “He was an idiot.”
“How come?”
She looked up, realization seeming to flash across her face when she saw him. He wondered if she meant to tell him as much as she had.
“Never mind. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”
“It’s okay.” He assured her. “It doesn’t bother me.”
“Yeah, well, not everything is about you, is it, Sinclair?” He recognized the sudden anger in her voice, trying to think of where he’d overstepped.
“Let’s just finish this stupid thing.” She sunk back against the couch, never once looking up at him.
Lucas ignored the urge to look over at her when he saw her swipe quickly and aggressively at her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie.
Almost thirty minutes later, Max checked her watch, swearing quietly and sitting up from her spot opposite him on the couch, her legs propped up on the coffee table beside his laptop as they worked silently.
Lucas looked up at the outburst, eyeing her. “What?”
“You need to leave.” She said. “If you get caught in here after the building's curfew we’re both getting written up.”
“Your building has a curfew?” He questioned, cocking an eyebrow. She looked up at him.
“Yours doesn’t?”
He shrugged. “Not that I know of, granted it’s Mike that has to worry about El leaving our apartment. Not me.”
“Oh, so Superstar doesn’t bring girls over?” She said, gathering up the loose notes pages and closing her own laptop as she stood up, her words dripping with sarcasm. “Shocker.”
“Hey, I’ll have you know I've had a girlfriend before.”
She snorted. “Sure, Stalker.”
Lucas shook his head, stuffing his stuff back into his backpack and slinging over his shoulder, standing up. “Bye.”
“Bye loser.”
“I have a name.” He said, exasperated, turning around just before he reached the door. “Lu—cas.” He said, sounding it out like she was a preschooler.
“Lucas.”
“Just go home.” Max said, waving him away. “Get out.”
Lucas sighed, giving up and saluting her half-heartedly as he stepped out into the hallway.
______
Mike leaned against the doorframe of his bedroom, knocking against the wood to get Lucas’ attention. “Hey.”
He looked up from his computer, pushing his headphones off of one ear and pausing the music that had been playing. “Hey. What’s up?”
“Just wanted to let you know I’ve gotta be out early again tomorrow morning to help El out.”
Lucas nodded, reaching for the headphones again. “Okay.”
“You gonna be able to get up on time all by yourself?”
“Hilarious.” He deadpanned. Mike laughed, pushing away from the doorframe and starting back down the hall.
“I’m going to bed. Everything good?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“Okay. Night man.”
“Night.”
The door across the hall closed for the night, even though Lucas knew Mike would be up with El on FaceTime for another hour or so. With that thought in mind he pushed the headphones back over his ears, cranking up the volume so he didn’t have to listen to the constant I love you’s that would surely come from his best friend's conversation.
He hated love…when it wasn’t him.
Not that he had any experience to go off of.
He sighed, shutting the tab he was working on, deciding he’d try to continue the assignment he’d been working on later.
Netflix sounded like more fun.
He opened the app, typing in his password when his phone chimed in his ear over the music once, then twice from his bed, the screen lighting up momentarily.
He rolled his chair across the carpet, reaching for the device and falling back against the chair as he read the notification.
Dusty-Bun: How’d the project go? ;)
Dusty-Bun: with you know who…
Lucas could practically see his best friend smirking through the screen as he typed out a reply.
Lucas: we split up the project. nothing exciting.
Dusty-Bun: but you know where she lives now!
Lucas : you sound like a serial killer dude.
Dusty-Bun : hey, girls like bad boys. ;)
Lucas : this is why you’re single.
Dusty-Bun: whatever, man. JUST SET ME UP!
He scoffed. Yeah right.
Lucas : not happening
Dusty-Bun : you may quite possibly be the worst wingman ever
Lucas : I regret nothing.
A new message popped up at the top of the screen.
Caleb: Chance and I are going to lift in the morning. You down?
Lucas groaned, but typed out a reply. His legs still hurt from running today, and he knew Caleb’s workouts would only make it worse, but he needed a refresher after the disaster of a day he’d had today.
Lucas: yeah fs. meet you guys there
Caleb: 5:30. DONT. BE. LATE. LUCAS.
Another message.
Chance: yeah. DONT. BE. LATE.
Lucas: what’re you guys sitting in bed together?
i won’t be late
Chance: Cuddling your homies isn’t weird, man ;)
Caleb: Please just agree so he’ll shut up.
Chance: And I’ll be holding you to it.
Lucas switched between the two message threads, replying to both the boys.
Lucas : i’ll be there.
He set three alarms before he fell asleep.