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I’m sure he’s asleep—he sent this message hours ago—but three dots pop up seconds later, indicating he’s typing.

Lucas: No.

Me: No?

Me: Why did you tell me about it if I can’t see it?

Lucas: Giving you shit is fun.

I roll my eyes. There’s no doubt in my mind he’s enjoying himself right now.

Me: You’re an asshole.

Lucas: I know… I used to care much more than I do now. What’s the point in worrying about something you can’t change?

My brows pinch together. I don’t know if he’s being serious. Lucas is impossible to pin down. I’m not sure if anyone ever has. If so, not anyone I know.

Me: I was giving you shit.

I hope he realizes that’s a play on his words.

Lucas: But it’s true.

Me: We can all be assholes. It’s human nature.

I don’t know why I’m defending him to…well, himself, because the truth is Lucas can be a bigger dick than most people, but I’m not immune to asshole behavior myself. On the outside, it looks like Lucas had it easy, but I know he didn’t. Coach Blake was never good to him.

Iwasn’t always good to him. Ellis wasn’t either.

Lucas: Aww, look at you being sweet. Did you have a change of heart after our night on the roof?

Me: I changed my mind. You’re the only asshole.

Lucas: In the whole world? I’m honored you think so highly of me.

I smile, and it’s a strange thing…smiling while texting with Lucas. It’s strange to be texting with him at all.

Me: Why are you awake? It’s late.

I have an excuse. I just got back from a football game. He could be tucked into bed right now.

Lucas: I’m drunk, and I suck at sleep.

Me: Same.

It takes me a moment to realize I admitted that to him, that I told him I struggle to sleep, because it feels like letting him in on the chaos inside my head.

Lucas: You really shouldn’t drink so much.

I chuckle, the sound echoing in my empty bedroom, which is fucking ridiculous.

Me: I meant the sleeping thing.

Lucas: Oh. My bad. I’m glad to hear you’re not secretly getting drunk.

I roll my eyes. He knows exactly what I meant.

Me: Are you?