CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Papers and Planning
Lucia shrunk back before he could see her, terrified of what might have been hidden in the newsprint she held in her hands. Ducking around a corner, she stood with her back to the wall, unfolding the paper and letting her eyes skip the too-large headline even though she couldn't quite seem to skip over the large picture of Rob, the tiny dots that made up his face, the grass, and the goal behind him.
When she was finally able to focus on the article, she felt a dual moment of relief and heartsickness.
It wasn't derogatory, and Lucia thought she should be primarily grateful for that. No, the student editor who had scoffed at the idea of Rob as news only days before had written a very glowing article about Rob Wesley, with hardly a mention of the team that helped him win the game.
And the caption under the photo grated worst of all: Rob Wesley, Holforth's Most Eligible Athlete.
Eligible.
She supposed it was true, all things considered, but the fact that she'd been scooped mingled far too easily with the fact that, like the article, Rob wasn't entirely in her grasp.
Or even at her fingertips. Closing her eyes, she could feel his fingers on hers, and her heart gave a thick, mournful bump. Why couldn't she just be normal? Why couldn't she just… walk out there and stand beside him?
Why couldn't she be the kind of girl who they would allow to do that?
The chattering voices of the young men around Rob reached her ears all too easily, the catcalls, the tidbits of the profile read aloud, growing louder as the throng grew closer, and Lucia flattened herself to the wall, trying to make herself invisible from these young men whom she didn't understand and whom she couldn't seem to associate with Robert. She could see him from the corner of her eye, the red-orange shock of hair bobbing in the center of all those other heads, Rob being jostled along by his mates without so much as a word of agreement-or disagreement. One of them spoke, and she watched as he jerked forward a bit-slapped on the back, no doubt, by the young man speaking.
"Well, being the school's most shaggable athlete ought to help you find a Bond girl for the masque, eh, mate?"
Lucia Lovejoy steeled herself, raised her chin, and mentally went to war.
~~~
Damn it, why wouldn't they just give a bloke a few moments' peace? Someone had thrust the paper into his hands the minute he'd left his last session, and he'd no more than read the byline-and who the hell was this bird who'd written it? He thought Lovey was writing about him-than his team had surrounded him, reading the damned thing out loud over one another and pushing him like a bunch of drunken gits.
He was looking forward to graduation, really, because even the game wasn't worth suffering the behavior of the team. He loved them at times, of course, but there were plenty of times… oh, say, now… when he'd rather have swallowed a pound of rocks than listened to them for one more moment.
"Says here you're 'Holforth's Most Eligible Athlete,'" the assistant captain said, nudging him.
"I'm really not eli-"
"We'd be pissed that they paid no one else any mind, but really, you deserved it," the fawning underclassmen broke in, cutting him off.
"We've gotta go show Coach before practice," someone else said, and the roar of agreement made Rob think his head was going to fall off his shoulders.
He needed to talk to Lucia, ask her what she knew about this, if anything.
He just needed to see her, damn it, for more than a few minutes in the hallway. He wanted time with her, time to sit down and be with her, and as he was pushed from behind-someone was gong to run laps for that one-he realized that lack was his own fault.
No date, no dinner, no long moments. Nothing but stolen moments scheduled around his football.
He turned his head, desperate for an out, and just before he was hustled into the coach's office, he thought he saw a flash of flaxen hair.
Damn it all.
~~~
Aloof.
She could do aloof, hard to get. If there was anything the underdog appreciated-her underdog-it was a challenge.
Lucia placed her fingers carefully on the cloth, depressing the sewing machine's pedal as she pushed the fabric through, making the first seam of many.
If Rob Wesley was eligible now, he wouldn't be for long, and he wouldn't be lacking a Bond girl, either.
Lucia let her mind wander as she looked back and forth from machine to pattern, pattern to machine, and she found herself picturing the scene, the masque and all its details. Genevieve with Drake Mallory, of course-that's what it had to be, what with all of the long sighs and big-eyed looks Gen had been casting lately, Connor walking around like the chaperone, approving or disapproving of pairings as he saw fit. And Robert, in his-
- dress robes--
Tuxedo.
Lucia frowned as the fabric bunched and the machine jammed. Where had her mind been exactly?
On Rob dressed to the nines, no doubt. But as she snipped the offending thread out of the costume she was making, she thought of all the ideas she'd wanted to write down as of late.
Something was going on. She just wasn't sure what.
~~~
"I tried to call you." He had, and a daunting experience it had been, trying to use the telephone in his house with a bit of privacy. Not that it had mattered-she wouldn't come to the phone. "And I stopped by your house."
Rob walked alongside Lucia in the parking lot, wondering what that little half-smile on her face was all about. She looked… cryptic. He'd hoped she'd come to his practice, since he'd had little choice but to go and spend the whole time getting the mickey taken out of him about what a stud he was.
But she hadn't come to practice, she hadn't come to her front door, and she hadn't come to the phone. And to look at her, you'd think that was completely fine by her.
Women were bloody weird. Gen had been moping around the house, acting ill and pale and just… weird. And now, here was Lucia, acting just as dotty but in a different way.
He was tempted to ask her about the time of the month, but couldn't quite bring himself to do it.
"I know," Lucia said, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. Aloof. Cool, aloof, hard to get.
Mysterious.
Like a Bond girl.
"You didn't answer the phone," he said obviously, wondering what had gotten into her.
He almost wished she'd get back to asking her damned questions.
"I know," she said again. "Are you ready for Friday night?"
"Friday night?" Now that she'd asked him a question, Rob couldn't think. "What?"
If you forgot about the masque, this whole aloof thing is getting tossed away in favor of something a heck of a lot clearer. "The masque, Robert." Her voice was soft now, patient. It was either that or panic, and she just didn't think she had it in her for a full-out panic.
"Ah… yes. The masque. I'm ready. Are you ready? Am I suppose to help you with a costume?" Now it was his turn to panic. He slowed his steps as they reached the school, reluctant to hear that first bell, suddenly filled with the manic urge to skive off classes and take her with him. "Or is that something your… dad would do?" He winced at the hesitation, only narrowly catching himself before mentioning her mother.
She never talked about her mother, and the only reason Rob knew a damned thing about it was because Gen had mentioned it all of once.
Damn him and his big mouth.
Lucia felt it… literally felt the heartache trying to push its way in, but she wouldn't give way. It felt traitorous, but she couldn't-wouldn't-keep doing this.
"I have everything I need." The five-minute bell rang and she struggled to find that balance between what she wanted and what she needed, between staying cool and clinging.
He grinned at her statement, knowing an opening when he heard one. He could get the hang of this. "So do I," he said pointedly, putting his hands to her hips and leaning down to kiss her. But she merely turned a bit, kissed his cheek, and stepped back with that little unreadable smile.
Rob was left in the hallway, thinking he'd liked her much better when he could chalk it all up to her being just plain weird.
It didn't hurt him to wait a bit, she thought. She'd done plenty of waiting, between his football and his mates and his stubbornness in general. She'd done quite a bit of waiting.
If it drove him crazy, so much the better. She'd flippantly rejected his pleas for her attendance at Tuesday's practice, and hard firmly rejected his scheme to skive off classes on Wednesday. It had been a long time since they'd seen each other a lone-between her free-floating anxiety about losing him and his need for independence, they'd created an odd, disjointed alliance of sorts.
But now, Lucia thought on Thursday, picking at her lunch and hoping he'd seek her out, she was intentionally keeping him at arm's length. If he couldn't talk to her, he couldn't break things off for the masque, for one. And if they didn't see each other…
Well, he couldn't tire of her.
And by Friday night, she'd be the kind of girl everyone wanted for him. Her costume was done, the Bond girl complete. She just had to find the attitude that went with it, nonchalance and cool.
But the fact of the matter was, somewhere along the line she'd fallen for Robert Wesley.
She wasn't sure she liked it one bit.
It gave him an awful lot of power over her, and where did it leave her? Powerless. And what was more, wordless. She just hadn't the words for it, and that scared her.
A flash of red caught her attention, and Lucia stiffened, none of her attention on the article in front of her.
"I need a favor." That voice wasn't Rob's, but a voice Lucia had come to know even before his. Lucia looked up at Genevieve and said nothing, merely looked at her, saw the dark circles under her eyes, the empty stare that looked as though it would melt into tears at any moment. She hadn't been sleeping, and Lucia would bet on eating, as well.
And Drake Mallory hadn't been at school all week.
"What sort of favor?" She tried to keep her voice level, to keep the high note of hope out of it. She may have been confused, giddy, mixed up, and entering entirely new territory, but the young woman standing in front of her was a friend in need.
Those took priority.
"It's about the masque," Gen said, and for the second time in a week, Lucia started to think of plans for Friday night.