Unknown Number
Page 36
'Then let him make it,' his brain stated in a condescending tone. 'You don't need to be another father to this kid. He wants you to be his boyfriend -decide what you want to be.'
Goddamnit, even his brain was against him. Even if it did have a point.
Lucas didn't sleep for the rest of the morning until he fell unconscious around 8AM. It wasn't until early afternoon that he finally roused himself again, his tattoo a raw pain on his chest, burning down into his heart. It felt like a raw spike bunching through him.
His body got to its feet and moved before his brain could process what was happening. He had a long hot bath, listening to some random songs that got suggested on his Youtube channel. They ran in circles in his head.
He tried to kill some time but nothing was really holding his attention, so he resorted to doing what he did best when he was at his wits end; he cleaned his entire flat from top to bottom. By the time he finished and snapped the rubber gloves off, his alarm beeped for 5PM.
He inwardly cursed, wishing he had even more time to procrastinate with. He forced himself to walk down the hallway to his bedroom. He had made the decision and there was nothing for it.
He dressed in a dark blue shirt with an ornate floral pattern in a similar dark blue, along with his dress shoes and a pair of fitted dark jeans. He took all of ten seconds in his kitchen to select a bottle of wine from his rack before grabbing his black coat from the hook in the hallway and donning it. Grabbing his car keys off the side-table, he left his flat and made his way down to his car, almost wanting to knock on Bonnie and Fletcher's door to show them that he was making the effort for Cavan. He continued onward, ignoring their door, and within five minutes had revved his engine and was pulling out onto the main road.
He was anxious as he pulled into the Blackwall tunnel and made his way through the tightly packed London roads. People were idiotic and it was no wonder that people ended up in crashed left, right and centre. It didn't serve to improve Lucas's nerves, either. He didn't show his emotions, but that didn't mean that his insides weren't a bundle of hot wires buzzing each muscle at random.
It was nearing 7PM when he pulled into a suburban area he vaguely recognised as Cavan's. That was good and bad. Good that he'd remembered where he was and bad because that meant the time between solitude and meeting Cavan's parents was shrinking rapidly.
"Deep breaths," he coaxed himself, forcing his hands to unfasten the seat-belt and check his hair in the mirror. Doing the top button of his coat up, he grabbed the bottle of wine by the neck and opened the car door. "Now or never."
The air was cooling to his flushed skin as he locked the car door and crossed the road towards the house. How was it that illuminated windows looked so daunting? Why was he heart skipping a beat? He mounted the doorstep and paused, his heart thrumming and his fingers so tight around the bottle of wine, he was surprised that the glass didn't shatter.
Breathe in ... and out ...
In ... And out ...
Before he could talk himself out of it -he knocked on the door. To his relief Cavan opened the door and the look of sheer shock on his face almost made the anxiety worth it. Almost.
"W-what are you doing here?"
Before Lucas could answer, a woman's voice called out from down the hallway. "Cavan who's at the door?"
Cavan's mouth opened and closed uselessly. "Er ... I ..."
"It's Lucas, Mrs. Geisler!" Lucas called out, projecting his deep voice and clearly into the hall beyond. "Cavan's boyfriend!"
"Oh good, you're just in time for dinner!"
Cavan stiffened a little as he held onto the door-frame. "Boyfriend?" he whispered with a frown.
Lucas quirked an eyebrow, feeling at a loss for words and trying to remain in control of his emotions. "Yes," he said. "If -you'll have me?"
The smile that exploded across Cavan's face could have lit up an entire city for a month. Lucas felt that light rush through him, banishing the dark, panicked thoughts that permeated in the back of his mind. "Of course I'll have you, you grumpy old git!" Cavan grinned, grabbing Lucas's coat collar and pulling him in for a deep kiss. Lucas barely had time to enjoy it before the shock of fresh air was upon him again. "Come on, best not keep them waiting ... Boyfriend."
Lucas smirked, "You're such a brat."
"The word is 'boyfriend'," Cavan correct cheekily. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it."
Lucas followed the younger man in the front door. "I'm sure I will."
The door clicked shut behind him.
Chapter 23
The atmosphere in the dining room was almost oppressive. Lucas couldn’t help but feel as though someone had stuck a rod down his spine. He felt like he was attending a parent-teacher meeting at some rich kid’s house, about to inform their parents that the brat in question was severely pissing him off and was going to be held back a year if they didn’t stop molly-coddling him. Then remind them that he didn’t take bribes and their kid’s grades were not for sale.
He suppressed a sigh and readjusted his position in the chair that had been appointed to him. Dr. Geisler wasn’t home yet, as far as he could tell, and Cavan had offered to help his mother in the kitchen. He had felt torn between leaving Lucas alone and looking like a spoiled brat to his mother, so he’d eventually offered to help her out in the kitchen.
Lucas didn’t mind being alone; it gave him some time to observe his surroundings. His fingers itched to open the bottle of wine, but he knew it was bad manners to do so without his hostess present.
The dining room was neatly decorated however had the distinct air of an OCD cleanliness which he could relate to only too well. The table was made of a chunky, dark wood. The carpet was soft and plush underfoot and the cushioned chairs were upholstered in a mustard yellow colour whilst the walls were painted a dark, rich blue. It was very chic and feminine without being garish. From the kitchen there was the sound of pots and pans clattering around as food was being prepared. Cavan came in and flushed pink as he served them all drinks around the table.
“Sorry!” he whispered. “I don’t mean to keep disappearing!”
Lucas offered a dry smile. “Cavan, go and help your mother. I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?” Cavan asked, worrying his bottom lip.
“Yes. Go.”
Five minutes later Cavan and Camilla were carrying in large dishes of food and placing it on the leather place-mats spread over the table. Camilla was almost exactly how Lucas had imagined her; a soft-faced woman with bright eyes like her son and an even brighter smile. Her hair was a rich dark brown that hung in voluminous waves down past her shoulders. She looked relaxed, despite living with such a man as Dr. Geisler.
“I hope you like ox tail soup, breaded chicken, potatoes and noodles,” Camilla beamed as she carried in two more large dishes.
Lucas forced a smile. “I’ve not had ox-tail soup, but I’m open to trying new things.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Maybe you can impart some wisdom into my son,” she gave Cavan a pointed look. He flushed and averted his gaze as he settled into the chair beside Lucas. Just as Camilla was about to sit down, a key clicked in the front door alerting them to the arrival of Dr. Geisler.
“Camilla I’m home!” he called from the hallway.
Lucas felt tense. Cavan clearly did too because he shot the older man a troubled look. Lucas reached out and squeezed his shoulder and stood up as Dr. Geisler entered the dining room. He stopped and narrowed his eyes as he confronted the stranger at his dinner table. There was a tense silence.
Somehow, Camilla came to the rescue.
“Darling, this is Lucas, Cavan’s boyfriend. He’s joining us for dinner tonight, remember?”
A jaw ticked in the older man’s jaw. “Yes,” he finally said. “I remember.”
He made no move to introduce himself or defuse the hostility that had clouded the air in the house as soon as he’d stepped in over the threshold. Lucas, deciding to be the bigger man –metaphorically –forc
ed himself to extend his hand. “Lucas Trunell,” he stated. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting Cavan’s family.”
Georg narrowed his eyes but reluctantly shook the offered hand. If anything, the atmosphere only thickened.
“Let’s sit down before the good gets cold,” Camilla scolded good-naturedly as she ushered her husband toward the dining room, shooting an apologetic look at Lucas. He thought nothing of it and returned to the vacant chair beside Cavan. “Help yourself,” she insisted once she’d ladled some ox-tail soup into her bowl.
Lucas did just that, even filling Cavan’s own bowl without a second thought. Oddly enough anything positive he seemed to do so far had earned his brownie points for Camilla and Cavan, and nails in his coffin in regarding to Georg. He could live with that.
As they started to eat, Camilla engaged her son in a generic conversation about school, Sophie’s latest antics and how Arthur was adjusting to his current work-load. Georg eventually contributed to the conversation and how Cavan needed to prioritise what else he wanted to do with himself. He needed to make sure he graduated with a high grade. That he needed to save up his money and get himself driving soon otherwise he wouldn’t be able to commute to a proper job.
Lucas focused on eating his food. He tried not to let his blood pressure rise at the implications that Cavan wasn’t doing enough to motivate himself to do better. All Lucas saw half the time was Cavan bent over his laptop or his notebooks with a pen caught between his teeth.
No one could ever say the boy didn’t push himself.
“So, Lucas, do you drive?” Camilla asked naively, even though Cavan had told her at least three times that he did. She was trying to engage him, and Lucas was both irritated and impressed that she was doing it so boldly.
“Yes, as a matter-of-fact, I do,” he stated as neutrally as possible. He focused on cutting his chicken and biting into a piece. He swallowed, took a sip of his drink –non-alcoholic –and set the glass down. “I have two vehicles; one I drive during the week and one occasionally on the weekends.”
“What do you drive?”
“I have a black BMW that’s parked outside, and on the weekends I tend to ride my motorbike.”
“Did you know that motorcyclists are twenty-nine times more likely to be killed in a collision?” Georg stated with a bland smile as though he was asking if Lucas knew the sky was blue.
“I did,” he replied tightly. “What of it?”
“Just seems silly that a man with a role such as yourself would want to take such unnecessary risks.”
“Well I bought that bike when I was seventeen,” Lucas replied as casually as he could muster. “It took me nearly two years to fix it completely. If I don’t maintain and ride it, it’ll get rusty and refuse to work.”
“Is that such an issue when your life is at stake every time you ride?”
Lucas looked up and took a drink, his eyes trained on Georg. He did not like this man. He wasn’t how Lucas pictured him with his small, round glasses and dark hair. It was a minor relief that Cavan seemed to have inherited most of his mother’s traits, however that didn’t mean Lucas despised Georg any less than he had a few weeks ago.
“The same could be said for people who drive cars,” Lucas said. “The amount of people who get caught in collisions and often die is hardly one to turn your nose up at, yet you still drive, you still want your son to drive, and I imagine a great number of your co-workers drive. So you see, we all take unnecessary risks, as you put it. However, I know how the road works and I abide the laws. That’s how you stay safe, Mr. Geisler.”
The two men eyed one another across the table.
Cavan made a point of clearing his throat loudly. “I’ve seen his bike. It’s pretty cool.”
Georg’s head snapped to his son. “I hope you’ve not ridden on it,” he said sharply. “You barely know how to drive a car!”
An angry flushed crept up Cavan’s neck. “I wasn’t going to, Dad, I was just saying I’d seen it.”
“Well if Cavan wants to learn to drive a bike, as long as he’s safe, what’s the issue?” Camilla challenged.
There was another tense silence.
“Cavan has been advised not to continue with his driving lesson’s until he can fully commit all of his attention to learning the theory behind it all. Did your instructor say you’d improved at all before you stopped the lessons?” Georg asked, turning his sharp eyes onto his son.
“I –no, my instructor said I still have a long way to go.”
That clearly was not something Georg wanted to hear. “I paid for the top instructors for you, Cavan. You need to pay more attention otherwise you’re not going to get anywhere, fast.”
Cavan bristled but visibly clenched his jaw and bowed his head. Lucas felt a wave of protectiveness surge through him.
“I’d be more than happy to give Cavan some pointers, if that’s not too much of an inconvenience,” Lucas smiled more at Camilla as he spoke.
“Would you really?” Cavan asked with bright eyes, before anyone else could object. Lucas looked up into those brilliant green eyes and felt his heart melt. If there was anything, he could do to make this kid’s life easier –he’d be more than happy to go tired for months on end to make that so. “That would be amazing!”
Lucas smiled, feeling as though a weight had dropped from his shoulders. “Of course, I would, I have every weekend free after-all,” he stated gently. “Besides, I’ve been driving for almost twenty years.”
“I’ve been driving for over thirty,” Georg interrupted. “Does that mean I’d make a better teacher?”
“Yes,” Lucas agreed. “However, your job means you tend to work late hours. I have more free time, so I’d happily bear the brunt if it means Cavan can develop himself.”
“Does that include his university work?”
Ah, there it was. It had been a good hour or so into dinner and they’d skirted the topic until now.
“Cavan has nearly finished his dissertation,” Lucas stated as calmly as he could. “He has come a long way in a short space of time and if I were his tutor, I’d be impressed.”
“You’re a secondary school teacher, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“So, what would you know about what is expected of students at University level?”
Lucas’s temper snapped. It was like the crack of a whip in his skull. “I could say the same thing about you, Mr. Geisler. Or did you not attend a University to get your doctorate?”
“That’s Doctor Geisler to you.”
“You’re not my doctor,” Lucas stated coldly. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re just a man with a high-functioning job.”
Before Georg could open his mouth, Camilla cut in. “Let’s settle down now, both of you,” she stated, her voice having a calm yet cutting edge to it. Lucas settled back down into his seat and was grateful for the weight of Cavan’s palm on his thigh under the table. He shifted and squeezed back, forcing himself to draw in calming breaths. “Now, Cavan darling, why don’t you tell us about your time up in Lincoln?”
This seemed to be the right question to ask as Cavan launched into a description of what they got up to in Lincoln. Despite the turbulent weather, they’d made the best of the quieter surroundings and –leaving out the part where they shared a bed almost every night –Camilla seemed to approve of her son having some down-time. Not to mention, his grades hadn’t suffered as she’d feared so there was no real harm done. It was only when Cavan got to the part of trekking over the farmlands, when Georg let out a long, weary sigh.
“So, what plans do you have in regards to my son?”
‘Well we got to that rather quick,’ Lucas thought dryly as he set his knife and fork down on the plate. “I’m not sure I understand your question.”