Don't Tell My Brother

Chapter 27 - Pig's Blood

"Sorry, say that again. He apologised twice, then asked you to go bowling with him and his drunk friends? Am I getting this right?"

Lucas was sitting as his desk, making the last of his US History notes while on the phone to Alex. Usually he didn't like to multi-task, because he'd listened to a TED talk somewhere that had said that you learned better without background noise, but this was important. Alex was doing her notes too, so technically it was like they were studying together.

"Yes, that's it." Lucas nodded, copying down another date.

There was a moment of silence. And then, Alex asked the question Lucas can been trying to avoid. "So, are you going to go?"

Lucas sighed, putting down his pen. "I don't know." He put his head in his hands, rubbing his temples in preparation for the headache this situation would cause. "Do you have any thoughts?"

"So many. So, so many."

Lucas wasn't surprised. "Go on, then. What're you thinking?"

Alex took a deep breath. "I'm worried. You don't know any of these people, and you sort of...aren't the best around lots of strangers."

Lucas frowned. "Hey, I think—"

"No, no, it's not a bad thing." Alex hurried to add. "You just freak out a little, and it'll probably only be worse if these strangers are Damien and his asshole friends. What if this is all some giant prank? What if they pull a Carrie on you?"

Lucas thought back to the movie in question, and winced. "I really don't think they're going to pour pig's blood on me."

"Well, maybe they won't literally do that, but what if it's something bad? What if they don't like you? I mean, I think you're great, but I don't expect everyone to appreciate your greatness."

Lucas fiddled with his pen, turning it over and over in his hands. "I don't know. Damien says that he likes me, so they'll like me, but I don't think—"

"Wait a damn minute. He said he likes you? Like, like likes you?"

Lucas nearly dropped the pen. "No! Not like that. He meant it in a friend way, I think, or in a you're-not-the-worst way."

"Hm." He could practically hear Alex thinking this over. "So maybe he really is trying to be better in front of his friends, and wants to make it up to you."

Lucas brightened. "You think so?"

"Or maybe this is all some complicated plot, and they're going to give you the worst night of your life."

Lucas groaned, letting his head hit the desk with a thud. His glasses dug painfully into the bridge of his nose. "You're not helping."

"Rude. I'm just stressed. I don't want you to get hurt, that's all, and I still don't trust Damien." Alex was fussing, he could tell.

"Neither do I. But I don't know, maybe I should give him a second chance. He seemed like he actually cared, which is new."

Lucas drummed his fingers on the table, staring out the window at the shadowy street and trying to picture how Damien had looked that afternoon. Dark, dark eyes that he swore he could sometimes feel watching him, a hint of a frown or uncertainty so different from his usual grin, the way his shoulders hunched when he thrust his hands into his pockets. The way when he spoke seriously, or tried to, his speech slowed, tripped over itself, didn't flow as easily as his insults or suggestive remarks did. If there was some sort of code in it, Lucas couldn't decipher it. He hoped that Damien was really just trying to be better, but that could've just been wishful thinking.