Empty Promises (The Promises Series Book 3) (11 page)

“This is not how this night was supposed to go. I’m so sorry for ruining the formal for you,” I tell her miserably. “I’m supposed to be getting felt up behind the gym right about now, not stuck in here with this.” I grab my IV stand and rattle it for effect.

“I’d be happy to feel you up?” A deep voice echoes through the quiet room from behind us and we both spin around, wide-eyed, to see who’s offering their groping services.

My eyes land on a tall, tanned dude with buzzed brown hair and a lip ring through his plump bottom lip. It takes my brain a few seconds to register that I’ve seen this person before. He’s the hot-as-hell guy from Dr. Zahn’s office. I lick my lips, hoping to add moisture to them; my mouth has suddenly turned into a desert. He’s wearing a snug black T-shirt and tight black jeans, and… Shit, I’m staring.

Blair’s shoulder nudges into mine subtly as she whispers under her breath, “I’d let him!”

I burst out laughing, like a moron, and feel my cheeks heat as the guy—Lucas, if I remember correctly, stands unmoving and staring right back at me. I’m greedily letting my eyes wander over him, comparing his physique and looks to Ethan before I register that he’s holding his own IV stand. It’s like a cold bucket of water over my head.

He’s sick too.

“This is gonna sound weird, but I saw you come in, and I figured that life’s too short right? I need to tell you that you’re the hottest girl I’ve ever seen.”

I look at Blair for confirmation that he did just say that, and her slack jaw endorses that it wasn’t just in my head. “Wow, he’s smooth.” She laughs as he shoots me a brilliant white smile. Blair stands and announces that she needs coffee before smirking at me, and mouthing, “You're welcome,” as she bails.

Leaving me here … alone … with Lucas… Hot, sexy, pierced, Lucas, who’s smiling at me. And it’s not one of those half-hearted smiles. It reaches his dark chocolate eyes and lights up his whole face.

Damn.

“I know you, right? You’re the girl from my therapist's office,” he states as he moves around to the front of me so I’m no longer twisting, and takes a seat.

“Yeah, I thought I recognized you. I’m Emily.” I offer out my hand to shake. God only knows why. Who shakes hands these days? Ugh.

“Emily,” he repeats as if he’s trying the sound out to see if he likes it. He captures his lip ring between his teeth, and if he looked at my stats displayed on the monitor attached to my IV stand, he’d be able to see my heart rate increase because holy hell,
was that hot.

“I’m Lucas,” he says, stretching and taking my hand, giving it a little squeeze rather than a shake.

“I know.” His eyes narrow in confusion. “Oh, I overheard your brother call you Lucas in Dr. Zahn’s office,” I clarify.

“And you remembered. Should I take that as a good sign?” His smile is still fixed in place and his eyes are boring into mine. I’m not sure how to respond to that, or even if I can get my brain and mouth to work together to organize a coherent thought and correctly-structured sentence. So I don’t. Instead, I flash him a smile back.

I think it was the right answer.

“Okay, Blair, I didn’t just dream that up, right? Lucas was real, wasn't he?” I ask as Blair walks back into the common room thirty minutes later. My parents are hot on her heels.

“If by Lucas you mean that emo hottie with the piercing, then nope. He was very real.” She smiles.

“Hmmm, would we call him emo? I’m not convinced. There was a distinct lack of guy-liner. Anyway, this shitty night just got a whole lot better because it means I didn’t just imagine that kiss or his number in my cell,” I say a little more enthusiastically than intended.

“You did not just kiss him!” she whisper-shouts as Mom and Dad rush up beside us to greet me, concern painted firmly across their faces. I answer her with a wiggled of my eyebrows, not wanting to say too much.

“Oh my god, you did!”

“Did what, honey?” Mom asks worriedly.

“Nothing,” I reply softly, attempting to put her at ease.

“I’m so sorry, honey. This must have been a horrible night for you,” Mom sighs.

“Actually, no.” I smile genuinely. “It’s been pretty awesome.”

THE FUNNY THING about kisses, especially a first kiss, is that they possess the power to render you stupid. One minute you’re a perfectly normal girl, and the next minute your thoughts are scattered, breathing suddenly doesn’t come so naturally anymore, and you can hear your own heartbeat thumping in your ears. Yet you embrace it, wandering blindly into the unknown with nothing but hopes.

Our kiss isn’t even a timely affair. Nor is it a carnal, hunger-fueled, passionate collision of our mouths. It’s a brief moment; a magical instance where time stands still and the earth stops spinning for the shortest of seconds. The only thing between us is the enchanting stir of anticipation as his face leans in close to mine. The weight of his lips is gone all too soon. Our eyes open as we pull apart and the air around us crackles. This one intensely perfect moment is over, and what should be the beginning, feels like the end. Realization sets in—where we are and what we’re doing. And that old saying has never rung truer:
Never start what you can’t finish.

Maybe this is why we kiss and dream with our eyes closed? The purest things in life are not meant to last. His kiss wasn’t supposed to make me want another. He’s not the object of my desire, I tell myself as I lie awake in my bed staring at his number in my cell. He’s not Ethan, and I’m running out of time.

Sleep avoids me for the next few nights as I overanalyze the one quick kiss that I shared with Lucas, and then analyze my over-analysis. In all truth, I’m just one hot mess. It was supposed to be a chaste kiss goodbye; one of those,
It was great to meet you; let’s get together sometime
, things.

Except it wasn’t.

It was too slow and calculated.

He put his number into my cell and made me promise to call him. We’d only had a half hour of getting to know each other but it was easy, free-flowing conversation, streaked with little hints of flirting.
And I loved every second of it.

I keep catching myself thinking,
why could it not be like this with Ethan
? Then I instantly feel like a bitch for comparing the two of them. Lucas was hardly ambiguous with his admission of liking me. You’d have to be a special brand of stupid to not notice how hot he his, and how genuine he comes across.
So why am I hung up on a boy who doesn’t really even know I exist?
I could refocus my attention and have some fun while I have the opportunity, but even the thought sends an ache across my chest. I feel like I’m mourning the lost love of a boy who has never been mine.

I pull my pillow over my face and groan in frustration as I lie in bed with my journal open to my bucket list—mocking me that I’m taking too long.
Stupid list!

My cell vibrates on the nightstand and I reach over, pillow still in place, and fumble around, patting my hand along the cold wooden surface until it reaches its target. I peep from under the pillow and open up the text I just received. I bolt upright, the pillow dropping unceremoniously to the floor as I stare down at the message.

From: Lucas

A guy can only play it cool for so long before his ego takes a huge nose-dive. You didn’t call? I feel like I’ve violated some unspoken guy code by contacting you first ;)

The message has my pulse racing and my fingers tingling as I wrack my brain, trying to think of an appropriate reply. I want it to be funny, but not at his expense; witty, but not sarcastic; flirty, without coming off like a giant whore.

One minute passes.

Two minutes.

Five minutes.

Seven minutes.

Screw it! Texting is overrated. I hit the call button and then instantly panic.
What if he picks up?
Or worse,
what if he doesn’t?
I’ll have to leave a voice message. “Shit,” I curse and, of course, that’s when the call connects.

“Wow, is that how you greet everyone you call?” I can hear the smile behind his words as my cheeks ignite. Thank goodness he can’t see me.

“Sorry, no … I um, I wasn’t expecting you to pick up so fast,” I admit.

“I’m not going to lie. I thought you’d blown me off and ignored my text.”

“You want the truth?” I ask, being careful to make my voice sound cheery rather than nervous as hell.

“Always.”

“I’ve spent the last seven minutes trying to come up with a witty reply to impress you. Then I realized I’m not very witty, so I gave in and called.”

A deep gruff laugh fills my room and I’m grinning from ear to ear that I prompted the sound.

“Well, just so you know, this is way better than a text. Unless you’re calling to tell me to take a hike, in which case, you should have texted because it’s gonna be all kinds of awkward when I start begging you to reconsider and let me take you out tomorrow night.” There’s a confidence to his voice that tells me he already knows my answer.

“Oh, okay … um, I guess we should embrace the awkwardness then,” I deadpan.

The sharp intake of his breath is audible. “Really? Fuck, I thought you’d say yes. Okay, this
really
is awkward. So are you saying no to tomorrow? Or no to me in general?” he asks in a much flatter tone and I can’t compress my giggle.

“I’m joking. Tomorrow is great.”

“Wow, that was unnecessarily mean…” He trails off and I suddenly start to regret my retort. “I’m impressed,” he continues.
Thank god.
I relax and lean back onto my bed as we discuss the logistics of our date tomorrow.

Holy crap.

I have a date.

My home care nurse, Carla, visits with me while I’m in the midst of an internal meltdown about what to wear for this stupid date that I stupidly said yes to in a god damn stupid moment of weakness.

“Emily, are you sure you’re feeling okay? You’re looking really agitated,” Carla remarks as she’s making notes and taking down my weight. Apparently, the doctors need to keep a close eye on it. They don’t want to overdose me on the meds and accidentally kill me before the cancer gets a chance.

“I’m fine,” I tell her, even though I know she’ll call bullshit.

“Oh, fine … now there’s a word I haven’t heard used for everything but fine before!” she throws back at me. Carla is no-nonsense; she calls a spade a spade and isn’t afraid to hurt your feelings like most other doctors and nurses who work in this particular field. We have a weird ten-second stand off where we each stare silently at the other before I crack.

“I have a date,” I practically spit at her.

“And it’s a bad thing because?” she draws out the word so it sounds like bee-cauzzzzz.

“I haven’t told my parents or Blair, or anyone for that matter, except you.”

She’s looking at me confused, her eyebrows pull down to form a v and a frown appears on her normally cheery round face. Like she’s not sure what she’s missing.

“I don’t want to feel judged. If I tell my folks, they’ll be worried that I’m starting something up that will only upset me in the long run because I’ll have to give it up. And let’s face it, that won’t be fair to anyone. And I haven’t told Blair. She knows that I’m into someone else and I don’t want her to think that I’m just using Lucas.” I slump down next to her dramatically and wait for the magic advice to be doled out, eagerly wanting this guilty feeling that’s manifesting inside of me to go away.