The Arrival of You

by Cranford, B.

  “Sounds good.”

  “Buckle up, kids. It’s just past peak hour and the roads are a little hairy.”

  Lucas clicked his seatbelt in place and turned his head from the front seat to look back at me. “You okay back there?”

  “Yep. Rose just introduced me to a new word.”

  “Yeah, which one?”

  “Knackered.” I laughed, enjoying the way it sounded, planning to find a way to throw it into conversation when I talked to my parents.

  “Ah, a classic.” He laughed along with me, then turned to focus out the front window. “So, Rose, how’d you get stuck on pick-up duty? I thought Mum would be here for sure.”

  “Dad had an appointment this morning, so she was taking him to that. With a list of questions in hand, I might add.” They shared a brief look that said classic Mom, a look I was familiar with because I’d shared it with my siblings in the past.

  “How’s he doing?”

  As Rose began to answer, I remembered that I’d also promised my best friend, Ashton, I’d let her know when I landed safely and decided that I’d better get on with it before she called or messaged me, annoyed I’d made her worry.

  She’d always been a worrier for the people she loved—as evidenced by the fact that when her older brother, Aaron, was kicked out of the house for being gay, Ashton followed him back to his college to make sure he was okay. That she also found the love of her life because of that decision—though it took them fifteen years to realize it—was a moot point. The fact was, Ashton cared. I didn’t want to worry her any more than I wanted to worry my parents.

  “Shit. Err, I mean, shoot.” I corrected myself, silently hoping that the stereotype of the always swearing Australian extended to Rose.

  She laughed, and when I caught her eyes in the rearview mirror, they were smiling. “You definitely don’t have to censor yourself around me, if that’s what you’re thinking. Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I just–I meant to stop inside the airport to see if I could get a prepaid thingy for my phone.” I held up my phone, which was getting no signal, since I’d turned off roaming after I’d gotten back to the States from South Africa. “I promised my friend I’d let her know I arrived.” Shrugging, I added, “It’s not a big deal. But I might need someone to take me somewhere where I can get one soon?”

  Lucas turned his head slightly, so he was talking to me, but not looking directly at me, which I soon realized was so he could confer with his sister about getting me a thingy for my phone. “We can go in the next couple of days. Shops are going to be crowded as fuck because of Christmas, but it shouldn’t be a problem to get you one. Rose, is that newsagency still at the end of Mum and Dad’s?”

  I couldn’t quite see, but since it looked like Rose nodded, I breathed a small sigh of relief. Although, I had to ask, “What’s a newsagency? Like a newsstand or . . . ?”

  Rose’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Kind of. Except it’s a shop, not just a stand. They sell papers and magazines, greeting cards and wrapping paper, and random stuff. Like lollies, or toys, or touristy things.”

  “Oh, okay. Thanks. And, ahh, sorry to be a pain.” I shrugged a little sheepishly.

  Rose shook her head, but it was Lucas who replied, “Pretty girl, you are far from a pain.” Now, he turned to face me properly, a grin creasing his cheeks. “A thingy, though? Come on.”

  I laughed. “Honestly, I know it’s called a SIM card, but I was worried I’d say that, and you’d be like, ‘A SIM card? Do you mean a woolloo-maloo-di-doo?’ So I decided to hedge my bets.”

  Laughter erupted from the front seat as Rose and Lucas took in my explanation.

  “Well, is it called a SIM here?” I asked, crossing my arms and pretending to be put out by their laughter. It didn’t work, though, as evidenced by the way Lucas looked at me and shook his head.

  “Yes, it is. But I might just petition for a name change.” He winked at me and I swear my heart beat an extra time or two. It could’ve been a corny move, but it turns out that when Lucas Hawke winks at you, it’s sexy as hell and not in the least bit corny. “Do you want to use my phone? To let your friend know you’re okay, I mean.”

  I lifted my hand to wave him off, but he was already holding it out to me. “I don’t mind, Bianca. You can just shoot her a text.”

  Looking at his phone and noting that it too was an iPhone, I decided to take him up on the offer. The message would be free, and it would make Ash feel better. I didn’t want to stress her out—not just because she was my best friend, but because she was also a new mother and had plenty on her plate to worry about without me adding to it. Plus, she could pass along a message to my mom until I had the chance to call her myself. “Thanks, Luc.”

  He winked again, shifting in his seat once more, until he faced the front. Giving me privacy. He was giving me privacy.

  I tapped the button on the phone to bring it to life, realizing immediately that I needed his fingerprint or passcode to use it. “Ah, Luc?” I started, only to be interrupted quickly.

  “Two-five-two-eight-two-zero.” He said it calmly, without prompting. It might’ve been a small thing, but it was a trust that he just gave me. Like that.

  I was surprised and a little . . . touched.

  I’d like to be touched by him, my mind supplied, making the sweet moment that much dirtier and causing me to stifle a snicker. It was true, so I couldn’t exactly scold myself for thinking it. I’d only enjoyed a small taste of what Lucas had to offer and, well, I was now in the backseat of his sister’s car, ready to go to his home, and spend a few days getting very familiar with him.

  So, yeah, not a lie.

  “Thank you.” I leaned forward enough that I could tap him on the shoulder, waiting until he turned around. Then, I puckered my lips in an air kiss that held both my gratitude and a promise of what was to come.

  Hint: us. We were going to be coming. Hard, and repeatedly, if the dirty promises we’d made on the plane played any kind of part in what we got up to in the near future.

  Using my phone as a reference, I tapped in Ashton’s phone number, mentally calculating what time it was over there. Figuring it was about six in the evening, I kept my message short and to the point.

  Bianca: Hey! Messaging you from a friend’s phone, since I don’t have service. I made it in one piece!

  As sure as I was that Ashton would have questions, I decided to add another message to the first to sate her need for information.

  Bianca: I’ll hopefully have a chance to get a number here soon. When I do, we can FaceTime.

  Bianca: Oh, and do you think you could let my mom know too?

  Pressing the lock button on the side, hoping that would be enough to settle Ashton’s worries, I jumped when the phone in my hand started to ring. The name on the screen was one I’d just added to the address book—though why I’d bothered with that step, I couldn’t tell you.

  I liked the intimacy of Lucas having my friend’s number saved in his phone.

  Looking up to meet Lucas’ curious eyes, I asked, “Do you mind if I answer?”

  He shook his head. “Why would I?”

  Since I didn’t know the answer to that, I instead swiped the screen, smiling like a loon when Ashton’s little baby girl, Kennedy’s face filled the screen. Unable to help myself, I made a funny face and greeted her. “Hi there, sweet baby.”

  “Say, ‘Hi, Aunt B.’ Come on, Ken, say hi to your aunt,” Ashton encouraged before moving the camera so I was looking at her instead of my pseudo-niece.

  Ashton and I were college roommates and the friendship we’d built had lasted a long time. More than fifteen years, in fact. I loved her bright blue eyes, her bouncy blond hair, and her general awesomeness. She was smart and fun and kind and strong, and when I’d come home from South Africa—alone and with what felt like nothing but a broken marriage to show for over a decade of my life—it had been Ashton who’d wrapped me in a hug and told me I’d be okay.

&nbs
p; With a smile followed by a roll of her eyes, Ashton exclaimed, “You made it! How do you look so good when you’ve just been on a plane forever?”

  I laughed at her exasperated look; this exchange was a familiar one. “Genetically blessed.”

  “Evidently.” Ashton tapped at her chin, adding, “I’ve seen your mom, so I don’t know why I’m always surprised.” She turned slightly off camera and I heard her muffled request to her husband, Andrew, to do something for her. “Sorry about that. Andrew’s going to give Ken a bath. Are you able to chat for a minute on your friend’s phone?”

  Looking up, I met Lucas’ gaze and he gave me a quick nod. “Yep.”

  “Okay, so first, yes, I’ll let your mom know you’re safe. But only if you tell me who this mystery friend is, how you know them, and if they’re hot? Go.”

  From the front seat, I could hear telltale snickers from both Lucas and Rose. I didn’t blame them, Ashton’s questions were said in a peppy, gossipy tone and in a way that implied that she a) was only kidding, and b) desperately needed to know the answers.

  “His name is Lucas, I met him on the plane”—I looked up a brief second, hoping I wasn’t telling Ashton something that, with Rose in the car, would cause backlash, but he simply nodded at me to keep going. Maybe he was just interested in knowing my answer to the third question.

  I was all too happy to give it. “And yes. He is hot. Like, crazy-hot.”

  Rose made a fake gagging noise, earning a “Hey,” from Lucas, while Ashton’s smile grew larger. “Nice.” The screen told me our conversation was paused. “Consider your mom notified that you’re on Australian soil. Now, turn the phone so I can check him out.”

  “No.”

  “Come on.”

  “You’re married.”

  “Married. Not dead or sight-impaired. Lemme see.” She raised her voice a little. “Lucas, are you there? Tell Bianca that as her best friend, I get to see you and judge you.”

  Lucas shrugged like, whatcha gonna do? and I relented. But not before another quick protest. “That’s not how the best friend thing works. But fine, whatever. Judge him.” I turned the phone toward Lucas, and he surprised me by taking it from my hand.

  “Hi, Ashton.”

  “Hi, Lucas.”

  Silence, like they were circling each other. If someone had put on old-timey Western showdown music, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

  “So . . . Lucas. Are you planning to hurt and/or murder my friend?”

  “Yeah, nah. Not doing that.”

  The words were clearly just enough to tell Ashton a little something about my new friend. Although, at this point, Lucas was more than just a friend, as we’d previously discussed.

  The thought set my belly to fluttering even as the significance of what Lucas had said—or, more specifically, how he said it, sank in for Ash. “Oh, my god!” Her voice seemed to go up an octave or two with her exclamation. “You have an accent! Say something else.”

  “Something else,” Lucas deadpanned.

  “Oh, a funny guy. I approve.”

  “You’re just going to believe me about the whole not hurting and/or murdering your friend?” Lucas’s voice sounded borderline disbelieving. And maybe even a little pissed off.

  Knowing Ashton like I did, I could see her shrugging in my mind. “Well, considering the fact that you’re there and I’m here, there’s not really a whole lot that I can do about it. Besides, you let her message me and accept my call. If you had nefarious intentions, I feel like you wouldn’t have done either of those things. Especially the latter one.”

  “Good point.”

  “Plus, I trust Bianca. If she likes you and, judging from the fact she’s contacting me from your phone and letting me see you, I’d say she most definitely likes you, then you’re gold in my book.”

  “’Preciate the vote of confidence.”

  “And let’s not forget, I have your phone number now.”

  “That doesn’t necessarily mean anything. I’ve watched enough TV to know that cop shows are always harping on about ‘burner phones.’”

  “You’re right, but still, it would seem that my trust in Bianca is stronger than my distrust in you.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “Okay, that’s enough. Give me back to Bianca now.” She paused. “Please. And thank you.”

  “No worries. Here you go.” He turned back to me, giving me the phone and that panty-melting smile of his. “Traffic’s a little thinner than we expected. Be home in about thirty-five-ish minutes now.”

  “Okay, thank you.” I turned my attention back to Ashton, giving her the clean, Cliff’s Notes version of Lucas and my flight over here, blushing a little when I told her about our impromptu picnic, only because I knew what came after the picnic. I could tell she wanted to ask me more questions, but I managed to wheedle my way out of giving her any more intel with a hasty goodbye and a tiny white lie about going into a tunnel.

  It took the rest of the drive to Lucas’ place to make the wash of embarrassment mixed with desire—and the need for another chance to do it again—go away. Thankfully, the catch-up banter from the front seat provided a good distraction. Lucas and his sister were clearly close and had missed each other a lot. I loved the easy way they had—the funny jokes, the knowing looks they shared when they talked about their family, the connection that was obvious from the way they played off one another.

  Just listening to them made me laugh, even if I couldn’t participate. Instead, I let their voices—and their accents—wash over me as I looked out the window, watching the beach roll past until we turned away from the water and eventually came to a stop in Lucas’ driveway.

  “It’s . . . I love it,” I declared with surprise in my tone, not really thinking about how my reaction might sound. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t what I was looking at—an adorable little brick townhouse that had an air of age, a row of hydrangeas lining the drive, and a small step that led to the red front door.

  “You sound like you were expecting a shack. Or worse.” There was, thankfully, humor in Lucas’ voice, so I didn’t worry too much that my surprise had offended him.

  I smiled at him. “Not a shack, but also not the house of my dreams.”

  “House of your dreams, huh?” He waited a moment for Rose to get out of the car, something she did with a distinct smirk on her face, and then added, “So the man of your dreams lives in the house of your dreams, huh? You hit the jackpot, pretty girl.”

  “I said it was not the house of my dreams.”

  “Ah, but you didn’t deny that I’m the man of your dreams, did you?”

  Laughing and shaking my head, I followed Rose’s lead and stepped out of the car. The heat surrounded me again, but it wasn’t enough to stop me from standing in the full glare of the sun to just look at the neatly trimmed yard, the brick that looked to be a rich terracotta mixed with blue and red, and the mailbox that appeared to be crumbling on one side. A tall fence hid the backyard from view, but even from where I stood, I could see evidence of the tall trees that grew back there.

  I heard movement, then felt Lucas come to stand beside me, and I couldn’t resist the urge to lean into him. “It’s really beautiful, you know.”

  “It was my grandparents’ place. Where my dad grew up.” He said it simply, like it wasn’t a big deal, but it was. It was clear he had history tied up in this house, and that just made it more beautiful to me. “When my grandparents moved into a smaller unit in a new development about ten minutes from here, they turned it over to me.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction too.” He took a small step forward, then turned so he was looking right at me, sadness darkening his features. “I guess the silver lining of your dad dying when you’re too young to really remember is that you get a free house and an easy ride through university.”

  Holding his gaze, I stepped in close, wrapped my arms around his waist, and rested my head on his shoulder.
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to. With the light press of his lips to my head, he seemed to somehow just know what I was saying, which felt . . . strange.

  “Just out of interest,” Rose called, drawing both my and Lucas’ attention toward her, “are you two going to help me bring your stuff inside or not?”

  “Not,” Lucas called back at the same time I stepped back from our embrace and moved toward her.

  “Sorry, I was just checking out his digs.” I reached into the trunk of Rose’s car to pull out my little red carry-on, setting it beside the other bags she’d already rescued from back there.

  “It’s great, right? Mum used to tell us about coming here and meeting Lucas’ grandparents for the first time. She has a photo of her and Lucas’ Papa, and he’s holding the hose”—she pointed over to where a garden hose was neatly wrapped in a coil and set out of the way—“in a way that makes it look like he’s, ahh, well, peeing?” Her voice lilted up at the end, and that, coupled with the cringe she comically gave me made it sound like a question.

  I couldn’t help my laugh. Granted, Lucas and I weren’t super well acquainted, but somehow, the idea of him taking after his Papa and making a lewd gesture with a garden hose seemed just about right. “What did your mom say about that?”

  “She thought it was awesome, of course.”

  “Of course. I do too, to be honest.”

  “Then you’re going to fit right in here, I think.”

  I smiled at the thought, my stomach settling in a way it hadn’t since I’d first seen Lucas standing at the end of our row on the airplane, waiting to take his seat beside me.

  Only for it to dip and flip again—for the nerves to return full force—the moment we crossed the threshold and stepped into his home.

  2

  Lucas

  It was practically impossible to keep my hands off Bianca, even with my sister hanging around. The minute we walked into my place, all I could think about was getting my hands on Bianca’s soft, warm skin. Back into all those curls that I’d gripped so tight as she’d used her mouth on me on that aeroplane.