Page 34 of The Matchmaker Club

A creak sounded from the staircase, and we all turned to find Lucas standing there, his stare even more brooding than usual.

Oh no.

I turned away and sunk down in my chair.

“Excuse me, I forgot to grab my water.” He headed toward the kitchen, then went back upstairs with a glass in his hand. He didn’t look our way once.

As soon as we heard his door close, my grandmother set the fabric and needle down in her lap. “You know, for someone who doesn’t like to be judged, you sure do a lot of it yourself.”

Hiding my face in my palms, I sucked in a deep breath. “I’ll apologize.”

My grandmother went back to her sewing, and Lainey gave a look like I’d better do just that, and now. I did my walk of shame up the stairs and knocked on his door.

“Come in.”

Lucas sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at me, his usual look replaced by one of hurt.

I’m such an ass.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It looks like we both say things we shouldn’t from time to time.”

“Yeah, I don’t really know you well enough. Whatever happened between you and…”

“Vivian.”

“It’s not my business.”

He nodded, shoulders slumped. “Do you really think I’m too uptight?”

“Honestly?”

“I prefer honesty, always.”

“You’re not a bad guy or anything, but you can be a bit…intenseand very…rigid. But that’s just me. You could find someone who likes routine like you do.”

“I can get loose from time to time.”

I giggled. “Yeah right, you couldn’t even blow bubbles in milk on a triple dog dare.”

“Because there’s no point to it.”

“The point is to let go once in a while. Live a little. There doesn’t always have to be some important reason. Just have fun for the sake of fun.”

He hopped to his feet. “Alright, dare me.”

“What?”

“Dare me to do something, right now.”

“I dare you to have eggs and bacon for breakfast at 8:47 in the morning. Or maybe dinner at 6:03. And maybe try eating lunch when you’re hungry instead of at noon like Pavlov’s dog.”

“Okay, so I adopt a routine. It just helps me sort my life. Without it, I’d drown in all the things I have to do.”

“And that’s who you are. Nothing wrong with that. It’s just… not me.”

He flopped back on the bed in frustration. “Responsibility, routine, reliability. That’s me.” He grabbed his water from the nightstand, and I eyed a familiar book that lay beneath the lamp.