“Can you pass the eggs?” I ask genially.
He tosses the pack of powdered eggs my way without a word.
“Cheers,” I grumble.
I don’t comment on his adorable bedhead or the fact that he hasn’t put his t-shirt back on. At least his jeans are covering half of him. I fork dehydrated eggs into my mouth and tell myself they don’t taste like kitty litter.
Through the morning, we avoid each other as much as our cell allows. I fashion a friend for Gary named Glenda. I prop the stuffed exam gloves up on the counter, and it looks as if they’re holding little thumb hands. Great, I think, even inanimate objects are less dysfunctional than me and Lucas.
HOUR 22
Gary and Glenda are in the trash and Lucas has cabin fever. He’s pacing the room while rolling his shoulders and exuding clear leave me the hell alone pheromones. I want to ask him if he’s okay, but I think he’ll jump on me if I do and I’m not ready for a repeat of last night. I feel queasy just thinking about it.
Whatever.
His mental health isn’t my concern. Besides, in a few hours, we’re free.
“Wee-ooh, wee-ooh,” I intone like a warning siren after he accidentally kicks a dozen tongue depressors out of line. I pretend my fingers are missiles, launching in retaliation for the border violation. My index fingers loop and spin to the crude sounds of rocket thrust before taking aim at his nose. They halt an inch before contact, frozen by the glare he’s leveled at me.
His brows are pinched together, forming an angry line down the middle of his forehead. I cower.
“All’s forgiven,” I say with a shrug and a half-smile. “I’ll just straighten those out again.”
Note to self: Lucas is not in the mood for games. Just ask Gary and Glenda.
HOUR 23
I don’t like this new, angry version of Lucas. He’s hotheaded and rude. He hasn’t spoken a single word to me in hours and it’s starting to get to me. As I change back into my jean shorts and t-shirt in the bathroom, I consider how far I’m willing to go to get the old Lucas back. It involves swallowing my pride.
He’s dressed in his jeans and a t-shirt when I walk back out, but his face is no more relaxed. He’s standing beside the exam table flipping through a Highlights.
I wait for him to look up and acknowledge me, but to him, I’m invisible.
“Yes,” I say.
He flips another page.
When I say what I’m about to say, I need him to look at me.
I walk over to him and don’t stop until I’m nearly on top of him. No chance of him ignoring me now.
“Lucas.”
He looks up—barely, but I take it anyway.
“Truth: yes, I fantasize about our kiss in the hallway.”
He arches a brow, studies me for all of three seconds, and then looks back down at his magazine. It’s like I’ve said nothing at all.
“Didn’t you just hear me? I fantasize about the kiss. I want you to kiss me again! Stop—just stop pretending to spot the differences! They’ve already been found!”
I yank the magazine out of his hand and fling it across the exam room. It lands with a plop on the tile.
I think I’ve finally got his attention. He crosses his arms and stares at me. Silent.
I want to scream.
“I fantasize about our kiss! How crazy is that?”
He shakes his head and leans forward, bringing his lips dangerously close to mine. “I heard you the first time.”
And then he pulls away and stands back up.
Just like that.
Like I didn’t just ask him to kiss me.
Who the hell does he think he is?
I crowd him in against the exam table and fist his t-shirt in my palm. I try to tug his face down to me again, and for two seconds, he doesn’t budge. Then he humors me and leans down. We’re face to face. Almost mouth to mouth. My eyes scorch into his. He seems amused.
“You listen here, Lucas Thatcher. I hate you, but you’re going to kiss me. You’re going to kiss me and you’re not going to stop.”
He smiles and then I think he’s going to laugh, but I don’t let him. I press onto my tiptoes and crash my mouth against his. It’s punishment. Tough love. I am kissing him for his own good.
He’s frozen at first, confused. I am kissing a mouth that is not kissing back and I die of embarrassment just before his hands lock onto my hips and he tugs me closer. I stumble into him and paste myself against his hard body. Oh thank god, I think just as his head tilts and his teeth find my bottom lip. He’s been bad, but I’m willing to share the punishment.
He bites and I squeeze my thighs together.
Be good, I warn my body. We will kiss, but nothing more.