Chapter 30

***

I can't freaking believe last night happened.

Kissing Lucas? Cuddling Lucas? Watching movies with Lucas?

What is this alternate universe? What does it all mean? I have so many questions.

1) Are we dating?
2) If we are, do we have to report it to HR?
3) What would that mean in a month when one of us gets promoted?
4) Or is this all just a fling?

I want to ask Lucas all of this, but I can't. I'm scared. But I should. Right?

I can't believe I used to talk shit about Casey yet here I am, a million times worse. Obsessing after a kiss. Is it the Lucas effect? Is something wrong with me? I feel like this should be easy.

Easy. Ha. That's a concept that doesn't apply to me.

It's Friday morning - if you can even call it a morning, it's 6 fucking AM - and here I am, doing yoga in my room, because it's on my 'to-do list.' As if I can focus on vinyasa, savasana, or whatever the fuck sana when all that's floating in my brain is Lucasana.

This is why we're single.

Tell that to my ovaries.

Who? Us? Bitch we're nonexistent. You tortured us last night with your stupid ass kissing.

Well, what did you want? Rip my clothes off and jump on him?

Uh, yeah? Get with the program.

All of you, shut up. Namaste.

~

By 7 AM, I'm starving and head to the kitchen. I hate eating other people's food. The thought of being indebted or being a freeloader ruins my appetite. But I remind myself that it was Grant's offer and it's not like I haven't sacrificed an excessive amount of personal time for the last couple of years for his benefit.

Cereal options are scarce. Fruit loops? No, thank you. Might as well shove a cup of sugar down my throat. And the bran one for digestion smells like a retirement home.

Eggs? Sure... but, come on. Just eggs are boring. I smile to myself when I spot juicy, red tomatoes and fresh basil. We're making a Mediterranean omelet, bitches.

I boil some water and pour it in a bowl, then set a second one with cold water. Criss cross the booties of tomatoes and put them in the hot bowl, then the cold one for easy peeling.

Roll up the basil and delicately slice, make sure to keep the aroma. Voilà. Bon Traval. Otlichno.

"G'morning..." A gruff morning voice grumbles behind me.

I look over my shoulder to see shirtless Lucas in black shorts, hair a mess, eyes sleepy.

"What are you doing?" He says unhappily, taking in the mess of the kitchen.

"Don't worry, I'll clean it up." I turn back to the cutting board, my heartbeat increasing.

"You didn't have to cook. We could just get food on our way back." He mutters.

"There's fresh coffee in the pot."

"Wow, you know how to use it?"

I don't grace his remark with a response and focus on pouring the tomatoes in a large pan. Lucas fills a mug with coffee and leans on the counter, scowling with a bit of amusement.

"What time did you wake up?"

"Six-ish." I chop green chili peppers.

"Mm... " God, his morning voice is getting me horny. "Did you do yoga?"

"How did you know?" I look over my shoulder. He smirks and drifts his gaze to my outfit. Okay, so I'm wearing green yoga pants with a matching crop top. That doesn't me—

Is he checking out my ass?

His eyes get that dirty look that makes me forget what the hell I even asked. I gulp and turn back to cutting. I need to gain control.

"You could make yourself useful and help."

He snorts. "No."

"Rude."

"I don't cook."

"Okay, umami freak."

"Anymore."

"Well, then... are you going to starve?" I tease.

My body flinches when he suddenly steps behind me and holds my hips.

"I could eat... " He moves my hair to one side and lowers his mouth on the crook of my neck.

"U-uh... " I chuckle and step aside. A shiver runs down my spine, I subtly shake it off.

I grab an onion and hand it to him. He gives me a confused look and scowls at the onion.

"Dice." I tell him.

His eyes harden and he hands it back. "I told you I don't cook."

I roll my eyes and shove the onion to his chest. "You're not cooking, I am."

"Then dice it yourself." He tosses the onion at me. "I'm going to go get something else to eat."

Asshole.

"Fine, leave Grant's house to me. Who knows, I might burn it down. But it's alright, I'll tell him you were being a little bitch when I was cooking a delicious Mediterranean omelet."

His eyebrows knit together. "What the hell is a Mediterranean omelet and why do you even know how to make it."

Because when my dad traveled a lot, he'd only talk about his clients, the restaurants he'd take them, and praise their cuisine. I learned international recipes hoping he'd stay home and be as excited to eat with me.

"Because I'm just that awesome."

"Weirdo."

"Says the guy who's scared of onions."

Lucas smacks his lips and reaches for his phone. I cut the onion in half and start chopping. Immediately my eyes water. I can handle waxing, but God forbid someone puts an onion in front of me, I start bawling.

I put on sunglasses and continue to cut. Lucas is too busy on his phone to notice.

"Today's video stats are posted." He announces. I'm guessing he's talking about the second Grey Goose video. Our analytics team has probably updated the performance sheet.

"You're not curious about how it did? That's a first." He says when I don't respond.

"I don't need to. I already know how videos are going to perform before they get posted."

"Mhm... " He nods suspiciously. "Alright, genius. Then tell me."

"Fuck off." I laugh. "I have nothing to prove to you."

"I see, you just like to bluff." I can hear him smiling behind me. I picture his ding dong as the onion in my hand and chop it more aggressively.

"Share rate is probably at two percent. I'm guessing the view rate is from thirty to thirty five. Average watch time maybe at forty, but normalized with the view rate, it's probably down to... thirty five."

"The fuck." His tone tells me that I'm right which makes me smirk. "How?"

"I like data." The onion particles burn my eyes and I blink repeatedly to fight them off.

"Okay, but still. I guarantee that no one in the company can do that."

"Because no one cares about it as much as I do." I sniffle. Grant cares about profits. Lucas is all about quality. And I study analytics.

When he doesn't say anything, I turn around to elaborate.

"It's easy. If you study how all the videos have performed and keep track of competition, then you just put the numbers together and test them with different variables until the strongest theories remain. Then you test those, until your predictions become bulletproof."

"I want to take you serious, but you're wearing sunglasses inside the house." Lucas smiles.

I take them off and his smile vanishes. I wipe my eyes and chuckle. "Told you I like data."

He steps towards me, eyeing the pot with simmering vegetables.

"You're such a cry baby." He teases with a low voice and takes the knife from my hand.

My mouth falls on the floor when he starts to dice the onion at the speed of light and finishes in a matter of seconds.

He swipes them in the pan with one sleek motion, then picks it up and expertly flips the simmering food.

When he notices my wide eyes, he snaps out of it and steps back.

"There." He grumbles and walks away, leaving me in the kitchen.

"That was fucking awesome!" I yell after him, but he doesn't respond.

I've seen Lucas film and he's a beast. But Lucas in the kitchen is a fucking monster.

And he doesn't want to do it! What the hell?!

He told me he doesn't want to be like his dad. Doesn't want to give everything to everyone. He said that no one showed up when his dad got sick. Said he loved to host. Stayed up all night cooking for people.

The burden on his shoulders, the guardian angel with his dad's initials, there's so much I don't understand and frankly feel foolish trying to understand.

How can I help someone with such grief? No. It's not even my place to help. I don't want to help him.

I want to... just... fuck I want to help him.

Maybe that's my issue. Just like I tried to save my parents' marriage. Tried to help Casey from getting bullied. Tries to help Grant by working weekends and not taking vacations.

I help and lose myself. And then what? I have no time to rest and be normal. I turn aggressive. I get uptight. I don't know what I want or how to even ask for it.

Being around Lucas is only going to breed this sick habit. The need to save him is going to hurt me.

"Have you ever thought of being a data consultant?" Lucas comes back, stirring me out of my thoughts.

I frown at the idea. "No."

He takes out plates from the cabinets and sets them on the dining table. I add cilantro and spices to the omelet and close the lid so all the tomato juices properly seep in.

"You should." He continues, taking out an orange juice and ketchup from the fridge. "You don't like selling and - let's be real - leading a team. But you're excellent with numbers. Companies would line up to get your help."

"Are you trying to make me quit?" I ask sourly. Is he already trying to get rid of me so there are no awkward feelings?

"Jesus, no. I'm just thinking that you could craft a career that suits your passion without including all the things that give you anxiety."

"I thought I was doing better with those things... "

Lucas sighs. "Never mind."

I turn the heat off and garnish the omelet with fresh basil before setting it on the table.

To work at a company for four years only to leave everything behind and start my own? How would I do that? I know nothing about entrepreneurship. And you need connections. I suck at connections. I can barely talk to people I know, he thinks I can talk to strangers?

What's in it for him? Why this random idea? Did he change his mind about the VP role?

Is he trying to just get in my pants before he becomes my boss? Obviously I'd never report him or bring him harm. But... would he just toss my feelings to go after his own benefits?

"Damn, this is fucking delicious!" Lucas booms, making me jump a little. His face glows with wide eyes. "Layla, what the hell?"

I'm too taken aback to respond and he doesn't wait for an answer. He's too busy dipping a slice of bread in the tomato juice, eating with an appetite I've never seen before.

"Mm..." He shakes his head to himself.

I swallow the lump in my throat and take a sip of orange juice to hide my smile.

~ A/N ~
Both have issues that they try to hide. Can they help each other without messing up? Vote to give them wisdom!