I don't know what she means by 'huh', but I don't care enough to think about it.
***
I quickly dress for work and head back down to my car. "Cameron," I hear, and I already know who it is without turning around. Roxy's running toward me barefoot with her heels in her hand. "Please tell me you're going to work right now."
"Yeah," I shout, waiting for her to catch up.
"Oh my God, I rushed out of class and to the bathroom to change and then I missed my bus and ran all the way here." She drops her shit when she gets to me and bends over, trying to catch her breath—her shirt's so low that her tits nearly fall out.
I turn away.
When she finally settles enough to stand upright, she crosses her arms over her chest and shivers. "Anyway," she says, rubbing her arms. "Can I get a ride?"
I shrug out of my jacket and hand it to her. "Sure," I tell her, jerking my head toward my car. She covers herself in my jacket, but doesn't put her arms through.
"Holy shit," she laughs out. "A Delorean?"
My smile is smug; it always is when people realize what I drive.
I press the button on the remote and stand back while the doors lift for her. "Please," I mock, throwing my hand out for her to take, "step into my time machine."
Her head throws back with laughter, as she gets in ass first, with her legs together so she doesn't show off too much of what's under her short-ass skirt.
"You're an idiot," she says.
"I know," I laugh.
I close her door and lift my head, and then my heart stops.
"Hey," Lucy says, her eyes slowly moving from Roxy to me. But having Roxy sitting in the car isn't what made the beating of my heart falter. It's not even the fact that she looks hurt by it. It's the fact that her eyes are red and puffy like she's been crying for days.
"What's going on?" I stand so I'm in front of her and take both her hands in mine.
She lifts her gaze, but her eyes are unfocused, not looking at me, but past me. "I've been trying to call you."
My eyes narrow in confusion. I pull my phone out of my pocket and see over twenty missed calls. "Fuck, I switched it to silent when I was in the library. Are you okay?"
Her eyes dart to Roxy in the car, before coming back to me. "Yeah, go to work." She fakes a smile. "I'll talk to you later about it."
She starts to turn but I hold her hand tighter. "Lucy."
"It's fine," she clips. "Call me when you're done." She stands on her toes and kisses me quickly, but I swear it—there's a second of hesitation where she almost stops herself. She jerks back, like maybe she's doing something wrong.
She roughly yanks her hand from mine.
And all I can do is watch her walk away.
The honking of my horn gets my attention. Roxy taps at an imaginary watch on her wrist.
***
I can't focus. I can barely stay awake. I look at the clock. Half an hour left. I need to go home. I need to call Lucy, find out where she is, see her, and talk about what happened that made her cry.
I just need Lucy.
Which is why when my boss comes to my cubicle and tells me that Roxy and I need to stay back to digitalize some files from the Wilmington branch, I go to the men's bathroom and punch a hole in a door. It's the worst fucking timing, but I don't argue. I can't. So instead, I lean against the counter and dial Lucy's number.
"Hey," she answers, the same sadness in her voice from earlier.
"Luce," I breathe out, and I can already imagine her face turning from sadness to disappointment. "I have to work late tonight."
Silence.
"I'd get out of it but—"
"It's fine," she cuts in. "What can you do?" She sighs loudly before adding, "Call me when you're done, okay?"
"Yeah, babe, I will."
More silence.
"I love you, Luce," I say, but she's already hung up.
***
"I can't believe we have to do this shit," Roxy states. Everyone's left the office but us. We're stuck scanning a bunch of documents and filing them into the server. The job’s boring, monotonous, and it doesn't help my mind from wondering about what the hell is wrong with Lucy.
"We're gonna be here a while," she continues. "You wanna order some Chinese or something? I'm starving."
"Sure. Whatever."
Fifteen minutes later we're sitting on the floor with a spread of containers in front of us. My mood has brightened a little; maybe I just needed some food.
I suck on a noodle, letting it splash all over my face just like Lachlan does when he eats spaghetti.
"You're a mess," she says. She lifts a napkin and goes to wipe my face.
I pull back. "I got it," I tell her.
Once I'm clean, I loosen my tie and pull it over my head, then take off my shirt. I only have two shirts suitable for work, and the one I'm wearing can last another shift before I need to wash it.