The next morning, I find myself digging through my closet, frustration mounting with each piece of clothing I toss aside. I groan as I fling yet another skirt to the growing pile on the floor. I love that skirt, but right now, I hate it with every fiber of my being. It’s already after ten, and I’m still in my pyjamas. My makeup isn’t even started, my hair is still in curlers, and my room looks like a bomb went off. A light knock on the door pulls me from my meltdown.
“Clare? You’ve been in there a while. Is everything okay?” Lukas calls out, his voice calm but tinged with concern. I stomp to the door and yank it open dramatically. Lukas blinks, clearly caught off guard by the scene before him.
“No, nothing is okay. I have absolutely nothing to wear, and I can’t go to lunch. I’m going to text Mum and cancel.” I declare with as much certainty as I can muster, though my voice wavers slightly at the end. Lukas raises an eyebrow and glances over my shoulder at the war zone that is my room. Clothes are strewn everywhere, and my overflowing closet stands as a testament to my shopping habits.
“I’m pretty sure you have more clothes on the floor right now than I own in total.” He jokes, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. I roll my eyes.
“Yeah, but they’re all *wrong*. I can’t wear any of them, so I’m not going.” I say firmly. Then I turn abruptly, stalking back into the chaos of my room. My frustration bubbles over as I start yanking curlers roughly out of my hair. One catches painfully, and I let out a yelp, more out of agitation than actual pain. Before I can do any more damage, Lukas steps forward and gently grabs my hand.
“Okay, stop.” He says, his voice firm but kind.
“I seriously doubt this is actually about your clothes.” He says softly. I open my mouth to argue, but his calm, knowing expression stops me. He guides me to sit on the edge of my bed, his movements steady and careful. Then, with surprising gentleness, he starts unwinding the curler that’s caught in my hair. I sit stiffly, torn somewhere between agitation and embarrassment. I’m being childish. But I can’t help it, my mother makes me feel like a child.
“If you really don’t want to see your family, we don’t have to go.” Lukas says as he tosses the first curler onto the bed. His tone is calm without a hint of judgement. I sigh heavily, feeling completely called out. He’s right. My meltdown has little to do with my clothes and everything to do with the fact that I don’t want to face my family. The thought of sitting through a meal with them, navigating their expectations and hidden agendas, makes my stomach churn.
“But we don’t have any good leads, we need information.” I mumble, more to myself than to him. Lukas nods, finishing with the last curler.
“That’s true, but if it’s going to cause you this much distress, we can find another way. We can do more research, visit your cousin at the bar again, or…” He pauses, frowning slightly.
“We could call the cop.” The way he says cop with such reluctance makes me smile despite myself. Is he seriously still pretending he doesn’t know Eli’s name? He straightens up, leaving the bed, and heads toward my closet. I watch as he starts flipping through hangers, clearly on a mission. A minute later, he pulls out a silky, flowy pink blouse with black butterfly prints and a high waisted black skirt. He lays them on the bed beside me.
“You look lovely no matter what you wear.” He says softly, his tone genuine. Then, he steps back, giving me space, and waits. No pressuring me to make a decision, just waiting patiently. I glance at the outfit and sigh, the weight of the decision pressing on me.
“I’m probably going to feel bad either way. If I go, I’ll be miserable. If I don’t go, I’ll feel guilty. I might as well just suck it up and go.” I admit reluctantly. I make no move to grab the clothes or get up. I just sit there, staring at them. Lukas smiles faintly and steps forward, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
“Please don’t make me have to pick out shoes too. I don’t think I’m equipped for that kind of decision.” He jokes, clearly trying to lighten the mood.
“Take your time. There’s still over an hour until we need to leave. I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready.” And with that, he turns and leaves, closing the door softly behind him with a quiet click. The silence he leaves behind feels empty, and I sit there for a moment, staring at the outfit he chose. Slowly, I let out a breath and start to get ready.
Considering I’m fairly sure Lukas has no real understanding of women’s fashion, or what either of these pieces would actually look like together, the outfit he picked is… Surprisingly decent. It’s not perfect, but it’ll do. Then again, I’m not sure I’d feel good about anything I put on today. It’s just one of those mornings. I finish taming my hair, feeling relieved that at least the curls turned out alright, then move on to my makeup. I keep it minimal, knowing my mother’s inevitable commentary will be easier to endure if there’s less for her to criticise. Once done, I slip on my glasses and head to my closet for shoes. I settle on a pair of black ankle boots. They’re practical, understated, and unlikely to attract her scrutiny. I take a final glance in the mirror. The outfit is fine, but I’m still dissatisfied. At least I look put together enough to get by. Taking a deep breath, I head out to the living room where Lukas is sitting, scrolling through his phone like he has all the time in the world. He looks up as I approach and flashes an easy smile.
“Feeling better?” He asks, his tone light but sincere. I shrug.
“Not particularly, but I can probably fake it.” I admit with a sigh.
“Close enough.” Lukas pockets his phone and leans back against the couch.
“I called a taxi for us.” He announces, his tone suggesting the statement should carry more weight than it initially does. It takes me a second to catch on.
“Cole?” I ask cautiously. He nods.
“Yep, Cole. Two birds, one stone. We get a ride and a chance to see if he knows anything useful.” He explains. I raise an eyebrow.
“Do we trust Cole now?” I wonder. Lukas shrugs, his casual demeanor doing little to reassure me.
“Not completely, but hey, look at it this way, if he decides to murder us or drag us off to some creepy hideout, you’ll get out of lunch with your parents.” He jokes. Despite myself, I laugh.
“Is it bad that I’m kind of rooting for that scenario?” I say with a sigh.
“Nah, I completely understand.” Lukas replies, grinning. His sympathy feels oddly comforting, even though I know I should stop complaining. Lukas’s family is a hundred times more complicated, and infinitely more dangerous, than mine, and here I am stressing out over something as trivial as an outfit. I shake off the thought as Lukas glances out the window.
“Cab’s here.” He says, nodding toward the street. He turns and smirks at me then extends a hand toward me in mock chivalry.
“Ready to take your ‘boyfriend’ home to meet your parents?” He asks. I look at him skeptically.
“Oh totally.” I respond, infusing the response with as much sarcasm as I can muster rolling my eyes and ignoring his outstretched hand.
“Just… Don’t embarrass me.” I grumble. Lukas’s grin widens, and there’s a mischievous glint in his eye that makes me immediately regret saying anything.
“Who, me? I’d never dream of it.” He says innocently. I groan quietly and grab my bag, resigning myself to what’s sure to be the longest and most excruciating lunch of my entire life.