5 Years - Rucas

Texas Lucas.

Chapter 7

"No you did not!" Riley put her hands in her face to hide her blushing. They shared their chinese food like old times and she was drinking wine, a lot of it. The pair were reminscing, going over everything that'd happened in college. "I don't believe you."

"No, i'm serious." The brunette set down her wine glass, and clutched the over sized sweater she changed into. "I wasn't drinking or anything but the cops were breaking it up. So, since the front door was blocked, I ran into the backyard and hopped the fence. I actually still have a scar from the piece of metal that I guess had broken off." She lifted her leg and showed a small white line starting from the back of her knee and up her thigh. Lucas chuckled again and started rubbing her feet, she hadn't had that done to her in years. "I had to get a tetnis shot." She giggled and took another sip of wine. "So what about you? What crazy things did you do in college? Let's put you in the hot seat."

"Ohh, okay! Um, I don't know. I was pretty lame in college." She raised her eyebrow and looked at him dubiously. "Fine, I went to a frat party. I don't even know how I got invited I thought that was for fraternities only but, that's not the point. In the backyard they had a giant boxing ring." She covered her eyes knowing where this was going. "You're looking at the 2013 Zeta Tau something or other Boxing Champ." Riley tried to contain her laughter, with zero luck. "Only had a scratch after 5 fights."

"Oh, Texas Lucas." His eyes were locked on her.

"I haven't heard that in awhile." She picked up her phone to check the time.

"Okay, it is 2 o'clock in the morning. I have to go to bed now. I'm too old for this."

"No you aren't. If you are then that means I am, and I don't want to accept the fact i'll be having a mid life crisis soon." She giggled, took the bottle of wine and her stemless glass back to the kitchen.

"Just gives you an excuse to get a hot young wife and a convertible." Lucas was right beside her and tucked some hair behind her ear. Riley loved when he did that. Did he know how crazy he made her? He was sexy, sweet, funny, everything anyone could ever want in a man. Why couldn't she bring herself to be with him? "So I guess i'll see you, when I see you."

"Walk me out?" The brunette agreed and walked hand in hand with him to her door, only a few feet away from the kitchen. "Sweet dreams."

"Ditto." His lips landed on her forehead, sending a rush of warmth throughout her body. "Bye."

"Bye beautiful."

"Bye." She closed the door and hit herself in the head for uttering the word 'bye' again. Seriously, the brunette couldn't hate herself more right now. Completely embarrassing herself in front of him, again. Riley washed her face and brushed her teeth, thinking about the day she spent with him, really the weekend she had spent with him. She crawled into her empty bed and wanted some company. She smiled and walked to her closet to pull out his Letterman from high school. It hadn't been out of the box she hid it in, in years, but it still smelt like him, somehow. The brunette laid the jacket beside her, and almost instantly she fell asleep.

GMWGMWGMWGMWGMWGMWGMWGMWGMWGMWGMWGMW

I stay out too late, got nothin' in my brain. That's what people say, mm mmm, that's what people say, mm mmm. I go onto many dates, but I can't make 'em stay. At least that's what people say.

Riley was jamming out in the kitchen while she made herself breakfast. She had done little to nothing with herself this morning, her hair was still in a messy bun and she was wearing her silk nighty. I keep cruisin, can't stop, won't stop movin'. It's like I got this music in my mind sayin' its gonna be alright. The spatula was her microphone and she danced on her own, making the moves up as she'd go. Riley didn't hear the front door open, and she didn't feel the 6 eyes staring at her. Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play. And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate. I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake it off. Shake it off.