Lucas' POV
I just sat there like a damn fool, drowning in silence and second thoughts.
Why did I come?
Every second that passed felt like I was peeling my own skin off. The awkward air between us was thick, heavy. His stare burned holes into me, but I couldn't look away.
Amy was right. God, she was right. Blake was just like the rest of them—loud, careless, and cruel when he wanted to be. Part of me still hoped there was more to him. That underneath all that bravado, he'd remember the Blake I used to know. The one who used to hold my hand without asking questions. The one who used to say I was his best friend.
But maybe that Blake was gone.
And maybe I was stupid for still missing him.
The memory of the bathroom—his words, his tone—made my chest ache. I liked him. So what? Was it really a crime to feel something for someone? Why did it even matter that I was a guy? Who set those damn rules?
"Shit," I muttered, eyes flicking around the room, desperate to land on anything that wouldn't crush me the way his gaze did.
I should've turned around the second I opened the door. I should've never walked in at all. The last bit of courage I had evaporated when our eyes met.
Bad idea.
Such a bad fucking idea.
"I'm waiting," Blake snapped, voice colder than before. Irritated. Dismissive.
I tried to speak. "Um… I… uh…"
He hissed, sharp and impatient. "Dude, if you want to say something, spit it out. If you've got nothing to say, get out."
That was it.
"You don't have to be so rude all the time!" I blurted, louder than I expected.
My voice cracked, but I didn't care. My heart was already cracked. What was one more break?
You've got some nerve, creep, showing your face here," Blake snapped.
I sucked in a breath, steadying his heart. "I came here to apologize."
That shut Blake up—just for a second. He blinked, clearly not expecting that.
I didn't let the moment slip. I focused on holding myself together. My voice was soft now, eyes looking anywhere but Blake's. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause trouble. And… sorry about the Amy thing. She's usually harmless—mostly."
He glanced back at Blake, who looked like he was trying to nap just to avoid the conversation.
"Well?" I asked.
"Well what?" Blake grumbled.
I frowned. "Aren't you going to say something?"
Blake scoffed. "Like what? What do you want me to say?"
"You can start by accepting my apology," I said firmly.
"I never asked for it. I don't want it," Blake muttered, eyes still closed.
My jaw tightened. This guy was being a jerk on purpose. Every word he threw out felt like a challenge, like he wanted a reaction. Well, congratulations—he was getting one.
"Fine," I said, standing up. "I guess I'll be on my way."
"Sure," Blake said without looking. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out."
I froze.
"Seriously, Blake, why do you hate me so much?"
"I don't hate you," Blake said. "I find you disgusting. There's a difference."
I blinked. That one cut deep.
"Disgusting? Because I like you?"
Blake finally opened his eyes. "You're a fucking fag. That's why."
The words hit like a punch to the chest. I could feel something building inside—anger, heartbreak, humiliation—boiling to the surface.
"That's rich, coming from you," I snapped. "You're always sucking face with Sonia when she's everybody's property."
"Quit bringing her up into everything!"
"Quit using my feelings as an excuse to be a dick!" I yelled. "What's so wrong with being gay?!"
"Everything is!"
"And there's nothing wrong with being used?"
Blake stood up now, pissed. "Sonia and I aren't even dating, you little ass!"
My expression shifted. "Wait, seriously? But you two—"
Blake groaned. "We're just messing around, alright? No feelings. Jeez."
I scoffed. "Please. You like her. You probably agree to all those random make-out sessions hoping it'll lead somewhere."
Blake stared at me like he'd been stripped bare. Silent.
I smirked. "Deep down, you're in love with her. And you're too much of a coward to ask her out."
Blake narrowed his eyes at me like he was daring me to breathe wrong.
"You wanna bet on it?" he asked, his voice sharp. Cold.
And I don't know what exactly snapped inside me, but I smiled. Not a fake one. Not a nervous one. A real, reckless, pissed-off grin.
"Yeah… I'll bet on it."
That clearly wasn't the answer he expected. His brows lifted just slightly, like I'd thrown him off. Then his ego caught up.
"Alright, fine," he said. "I'll ask Sonia to be my girlfriend. And if she says yes? You don't get to show your face around me again. Ever. Matter of fact, I don't even want to see you in this school."
And there it was. The hit. No punches, no slaps. Just words. Cruel, intentional words. It stung more than I wanted to admit. I looked down and nodded slowly.
"Alright… fine." I let the words settle. Then I lifted my head and added, "But what if she turns you down?"
That got him.
He paused for a second. I saw it—the flicker of hesitation behind all that fake confidence. But then he scoffed like he could brush it all off.
"Tch. Fuck it. If she rejects me, I'll do whatever you want. Except go out with you. One rejection isn't gonna make me fall for you."
Ouch. But whatever. He walked right into it.
"Anything?" I asked.
Blake folded his arms. "Yeah. Anything."
I smirked, slow and unbothered. "Then I want you to kiss me."
The look on his face—pure chaos. "What the—?!"
I held up my hands like it was no big deal. "What? You said anything. It's just a kiss. Unless you're scared. You can always back out."
He looked like he was about to combust.
"Fuck it! You got a freaking deal," he snapped. "Now don't get cocky it's not like you've won anything. And get the hell out."
"See you later… Parker," I said with a wink I didn't even know I had in me.
As soon as the door closed behind me, I let out the longest breath I'd ever held. My knees buckled and I dropped down against the wall, hands on my head, heart pounding like I'd just escaped death.
My face was burning. My chest felt like it was caving in.
"What the actual hell did I just do?" I whispered.
And then, without meaning to—
I laughed.
Because screw it.
Maybe I was finally done being scared.
Then it hit me.
Out of nowhere, like a scene from a cringy teen movie—
The image of me…
Kissing Blake Parker.
My whole face lit up red.
"Fuck," I muttered, burying my face in my hands. "Why the hell am I thinking about this?"
It wasn't even just a kiss—it was the kiss. The one I'd imagined a hundred different ways late at night, staring at the ceiling like a loser. And now it wasn't some fantasy. It was a real possibility.
Stupid bet. Stupid lips. Stupid me.
Then my phone buzzed.
And kept buzzing.
A stream of texts lit up the screen.
Amy.
At first, she was being sweet:
> "Hey, where'd you run off to?"
"You okay? Need me to bring snacks?"
Then, slowly, the texts turned more… alarming.
> "Lucas answer your damn phone."
"If you died, I'm bringing you back to life just to kill you again."
"I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU'RE DOING SOMETHING DUMB I'M GONNA—"
I sighed and shoved the phone into my pocket.
No way I could avoid her forever.
Besides… not like I had anywhere else to go. No crowd to hide in. No backup plan.
Amy was all I had.
So I got up, dusted myself off, and headed out to face her wrath.
Whatever came next—I probably deserved it.