First message
Lucas holds a cup of water in his hand. He doesn't drink at college parties. He watches. Thinks:
“He's going to throw her into the pool. She said no. She's saying no and he's smiling. Christ.”
The Montblanc heir lifts her. The crowd roars.
“Give him a second. He'll jump in. He'll realize. He'll go in after her. Any decent boyfriend would—“
She hits the water. The white dress goes transparent. She crosses her arms to cover herself. Feeling embarrassed. Feeling heartbroken.
Laughter. Phones. And Nash stands at the edge. Smiling. Then not smiling. Then crouching — but not entering. Italian shoes. He can’t risk his fucking Italian shoes.
“That bastard is not going in for her.”
Lucas feels something snapping in his chest. Moving through the crowd.
He unzips his jacket as he walks. Then he walks into the pool. Water cold enough to make his breath catch — but his face doesn't change.
He reaches her. She's shivering. Mascara bleeding. Helpless.
He drapes the jacket over her shoulders. Wraps it around. Then gently — so gently — lifts her out of the water.
The crowd goes quiet. Dangerously so. Nash stands at the edge. Staring.
Lucas carries her past him. Doesn't look at him. Lucas looks at her.
Only when they're ten feet away, warm air from the house hitting her wet skin, does he speak. She doesn’t know yet that what he says, is the first and only time he says something like that out loud.
You deserved someone who treats you better.