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Lucy doesn’t realize where she’s going until she finds herself turning into his driveway.
She shifts the car into park slowly, cutting her lights and pressing her forehead to the steering wheel, shutting her eyes and trying to think. There’s no real reason she’d wound up at the liquor store in his neighborhood, just like there’s no real reason she’s sitting in her car in his driveway, weighing the pros and cons of knocking on his door. She can feel her dress riding up her thighs and grumbles as she pushes it down, the silky fabric soft beneath her fingers.
He’d told her he loved her tonight – that he loves her, currently.
“You don’t have to say it back yet,” he’d said, taking her hand in his, his thumb grazing over her knuckles. “I know it’s quick, but I’m the kind of person who says how I feel when I feel it, and I,” he’d looked down, bashful, then back up at her, brazen, “I love you, Lucy.”
Lucy had swallowed, knowing her cheeks were pink. “Are you sure?” Her voice hadn’t seemed to belong to her, but her brain apparently knew what it was doing, answering for her.
Chris nodded, laughing. “Oh, I’m sure.”
Lucy had fumbled her way through the rest of the meal, her brain on auto-pilot as they’d finished off a bottle of wine, eaten dessert, as Chris had walked to her car and kissed her goodnight. She’d driven without purpose, not realizing that she was buying a bottle of Casamigos until she was holding the neck in her fist, the bottle settled into a paper bag; not realizing that she was pulling in at Tim’s until she’d caught sight of her headlights in the reflection of his truck tailgate.
Chris loves her, and the only person she can even think about talking about that with is Tim.
She’s closer with Tim than ever lately – something Lucy doesn’t even bother trying to wrap her mind around, because she doesn’t think she’d be able to believe it if she tried. She’s helped him sort through some of the bumps in the road with Ashley, he’s the one who set her up with Chris in the first place, and on top of it all, they spend at least twelve hours a day together...sometimes working, sometimes talking, sometimes in the most comfortable silence she’s ever experienced. Everything’s different when it comes to Tim – she’s used to that, by now, but it still never fails to surprise her just how important he is in her life.
That’s why she’s sitting in his driveway right now – she’s sure of it.
She’s been idling behind Tim’s truck for nearly twenty minutes, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel along with the beat of a handful of 80’s power ballads, trying to decide if she’s actually getting out of the car, when a shadow casts over the windshield. She jumps, her eyes tearing open as there’s a soft tap on her window, Tim’s torso coming into focus as she sucks in a slow breath. “Are you planning on coming in, or were you just going to sit out here all night?”
Lucy rolls her eyes, biting on the inside of her cheek. “I was trying to decide,” she calls through the window with a dry laugh. She cuts the engine, then reaches over to the passenger seat and grabs the paper bag with the bottle in it as Tim pulls her door open, the interior lights turning on slowly. “I wasn’t settled on not just backing out and going home yet.”
Tim frowns at her, giving her a once over that stirs something deep in the pit of her stomach – something she chooses to ignore. “What, we’re not good enough for an entire stop now?”
Lucy huffs, sliding out of the driver's seat, holding up the bottle and jiggling it, listening as the bag crinkles and the tequila sloshes against the glass. “I was trying to decide if I wanted to drink alone.”
“Ah,” Tim nods, taking the bag from her and squinting down at it, then her. He pushes the car door shut behind her and nods towards the house. “Well, I can pick for you, then. Come on.”
Lucy smiles up at him, but doesn’t let him have it for long – instead, she pushes past him and makes her way towards the house, kicking her shoes off on the mat and squatting down in front of Kojo before Tim even has the front door locked. She presses her face into the top of Kojo’s head, breathing him in for a long few moments as her hands rub along either side of his back, laughing at the soft snort the dog lets out when she stops petting him for a moment. “I told you,” she calls over to Tim in the kitchen, laughing as she glances over her shoulder at him and finds him frowning at her, his brows raised in amusement, “you’ve got to stop depriving him of affection, Tim. Look at this,” she turns back to Kojo, grinning as the dog pushes himself into her lightly, Lucy scratching between his ears. “He’s practically begging to be lo–,” she stops herself, swallowing, “paid attention to.”
Tim squints at her. “Did you start drinking already,” he grumbles through a laugh, pulling two rocks glasses down from a high cabinet and settling them on the counter, “or are you just being ridiculous for fun?”
“For fun,” she shrugs, grinning back at Kojo as the dog licks her face lightly. She scratches behind the dog’s ears mindlessly, watching as Tim opens the bottle and pours tequila into the glasses. “What do you think about lighting a fire,” she asks, patting Kojo on the head before standing up, raising her brow at him, “for us to drink that by?”
“A fire,” Tim raises his brows back at her, picking up one of the glasses and crossing the room to hand it to her. There’s concern in his face when he reaches her. “You have something going on?”
Lucy shrugs, her lips pressed together. “Just felt like talking,” she takes the glass, holding it tightly in her hand. “We can just go sit in the yard, though...doesn’t have to be a fire. It’s a nice night,” she glances down at Kojo, who’s made his way over to his bed and laid down, then looks back at Tim. “Either way.”
Tim frowns at her, shaking his head. “Too many choices going on,” he mumbles, and Lucy rolls her eyes fondly at him. “Go on out and I’ll meet you, alright?”
Lucy hums, nodding as she makes her way out the sliding glass door and settles herself on the outdoor couch, tucking her legs beneath her body and pulling a pillow into her lap, the hem of her dress sliding up around her thighs. She shuts her eyes, listening to the nighttime sounds of Tim’s yard – the rustling of the trees in the night wind, the humming of the crickets, the neighborhood traffic. It’s surprising how calming she finds his place – how settled she feels in a place she hasn’t spent that much time in. She figures it’s because it feels like Tim, but she doesn’t care to read too far into what that means.
“I love you, Lucy.” She hears it echo in the back of her head and squeezes her eyes closed, swallowing harshly. The sound of your own boyfriend’s voice – the recollection of the sound of your own boyfriend’s voice, even – shouldn’t make you flinch, right?
She lifts her tequila glass to her lips and takes a slow sip, then leans her head against the back of the couch and waits for Tim to come through the sliding glass door. It doesn’t take long, but she’s cycled through her thoughts enough that by the time she hears the door open, then close, that she’s itching for his company. Lucy opens her eyes and watches him upside down as he walks over to the couch, lifting her head up and blinking slowly as he sets the tequila bottle down on the arm of the couch beside her, then settles down next to her with a knowing hum. “So, you’re having a shitty one, too?”
Lucy frowns, taking a long sip of her tequila and turning her body to face Tim, her brow furrowed. “Too?”
Tim shrugs. “I’ve had better nights, at least.”
“Why,” she hears her voice soften in a way it only ever does for Tim and presses her lips together before she continues. “Did you do something stupid?”
Tim snorts, looking over at her with a slight smile coloring his features. She keeps her eyes focused on the corners of his mouth as he stretches his arm along the back of the couch. “Why does it have to be me that did something stupid?”
Lucy gives him her wisest of expressions, her brows high on her head, her mouth turned upwards. “The odds are higher, that way,” she shrugs. “Besides, I think I would’ve heard from you,” she gestures towards the bag she’d abandoned on one of the empty chairs that holds her phone, “if someone else had done something stupid.”
Tim nods, taking a long sip from his glass and then settling it against his thigh. “You go first,” he decides, after a long moment. “Did you do something stupid?”
Lucy sighs, shaking her head. She taps her fingers against the side of her tumbler slowly, rhythmically, listening to the tinkling of her nails against the glass. “I didn’t do anything, is more the issue.”
Tim frowns and Lucy watches the muscles in his mouth work, feeling her own mouth mirroring his. “What do you mean, you didn’t do anything?”
She shrugs. “Chris and I were having dinner at that new Indian fusion restaurant I’ve wa–,”
“God, finally...I thought I was going to have to drop you off there on shift one day and call it your lunch,” he mutters, laughing when she squints at him. “Sorry, sorry, go on.”
“Thanks,” she grumbles, frowning at him for a long moment before sitting up a bit and rolling her shoulders back. “We were at dinner at that new restaurant I’ve been wanting to try, and it was going fine...and then he,” she stops, swallowing, settling her eyes on him and shutting her mouth. She watches as he looks back at her, his face etched with concern, his eyes serious, and she hates the way her heart clutches in her chest, the way she feels herself scooting closer to him before she continues on. “He told me he loves me.”
Tim frowns. She can feel the surprise hanging in the air between them, can see it in the way his eyes close for a moment before he speaks. “What?”
Lucy sighs, sliding a bit closer and bringing her glass up to her lips. “He told me he loves me,” she repeats. “He said I didn’t have to say it back, but he wanted to.”
“It’s been...what, two? Three months?” Tim’s voice is thick and Lucy sips her tequila as she nods.
“Two and a half,” she bites down on the rim of her glass, bringing her other hand up and intertwining her fingers slowly.
“And he loves you?”
Lucy flinches – lightly, but she watches him clock it – and then nods slowly. “That’s what he claims.”
Tim lets out a low laugh, shaking his head. “That’s what he claims,” he levels her with a look. “That’s...an interesting way to think, Chen.”
Lucy rolls her eyes, tipping her head to the side. “What do you mean?”
“The guy says he loves you, I’d be inclined to believe it.”
She swallows. “Alright,” she nods after a long moment. “Fine. He loves me.”
Tim hums into his tequila glass, his eyes straight ahead as he takes a sip, then lowers it to rest against his thigh. “That’s fast.” Lucy nods. “That’s really fast.”
“Yeah, I know, Tim.” She laughs, raising her brows. “Why do you think I’m so freaked out?”
“Are you freaked out?” His voice is low and he turns to her, his face unreadable in a way that makes her a little uncomfortable. She leans in slightly, her brows knit together as she inspects him.
“I bought a bottle of tequila and drove over here immediately,” she shrugs. “I’d say freaked out sums it up.”
“Did you say it back?”
Lucy feels her mouth go dry and licks her lips, trying to get some moisture, somehow. “No,” she shakes her head. “It’s too soon.”
“You don’t love him yet.” Tim’s voice is matter of fact, to the point that it’s a little off-putting. “It takes more time than that.”
Lucy shrugs, settling her glass onto the pillow in her lap and reaching down to it, swirling her finger around the surface of the liquid slowly. “I could love him,” she breathes. “I could love him soon, if things keep going the way they’re going.”
“But you don’t.”
“But I could,” she barks out a dry laugh, rolling her eyes. “I could wind up loving him, and I,” she shakes her head, looking up at him, “I want to. He’s a good guy.”
Tim nods. “He is. Did he...was he mad you didn’t say it?”
“No,” she reaches over, shoving his arm with her wet fingers before lifting the tequila to her lips, finishing off what’s in her glass and then reaching over to grab the bottle. “Don’t you listen? He said I didn’t have to say it back – he just...wanted me to know.”
“Alright,” Tim’s voice is quiet. Lucy refills her glass, pouring more than Tim had earlier, then holds the bottle out for him. He lowers his glass from his mouth and holds it out for her. Lucy takes her time pouring, not wanting to drop the bottle, then caps it and sets it down on the ground. “So, what’s the problem?”
Lucy stares at him. “What do you mean?”
Tim turns his body, facing her. He pulls one leg up onto the couch, but she’s suddenly aware of how close he is to her, of the warmth radiating off of his body in the cool night air. He gestures towards her with his glass in hand. “Chris...who we’ve both deemed a good guy...said he loves you. And yeah, it’s a little fast – but he didn’t push you to say it back, probably didn’t even expect you to say it back. Isn’t that the best case scenario?”
Lucy chews on her lower lip, watching his mouth as he speaks. “I’ve never,” she breathes, shaking her head, “had someone do that before. Just want to say something like that and not...expect it handed right back to them.”
Tim nods. “Do you feel like you have to say it now?”
“Kind of,” she shrugs. “I don’t want to say it unless I mean it.” She can’t pinpoint why her heart is thrumming – can’t figure out why her palms feel slick around the glass, can’t understand why she’s unable to tear her eyes off his face. “I don’t know when I’m going to mean it, though...or if I’m going to mean it.”
“Wait it out,” he shakes his head. “Nothing else you can do now.”
Lucy sighs out a slow breath, lifting the glass to her lips. “Wait it out?”
“Yeah,” he nods. “Wait and see, and if it doesn’t happen...there’s your answer.” She lets the quiet wash over them and tries to settle her racing heart, her racing mind. She watches Tim take another sip from his glass, the fingers of the hand he has draped along the back of the couch finding her shoulder, tapping it softly. She ignores the tingling she feels beneath his fingertips and waits, because she can feel the words building in his mind, traveling slowly until they make their way through his lips. “I broke up with Ashley earlier.”
Lucy squints at him. “You what?”
Tim shrugs. “It wasn’t working out.”
Lucy tips the glass back, letting the liquid slide down her throat, ignoring the burn when she swallows too hard. She sets it down on the ground and scoots in a little closer to Tim, her knees bumping against his leg. “What do you mean it wasn’t working out, Tim? You were happy with her.”
“Happy is relative,” he shakes his head, giving her a sidelong glance before settling his hand against his thigh. “I was happy, sure...but I was waiting and seeing, just like I told you, and,” he lets out a low laugh. “I waited, I saw, and it was time.”
Lucy groans softly, pressing her hand to her face. “Did she do something? Freak you out?”
Tim laughs and she can tell he’s scrubbing his hand over his face by the slight muffling of the sound. “No,” he shakes his head. “I just knew it was time to let it go.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Lucy frowns at him, dropping her hand from her face and shaking her head. “That’s ridiculous and you should call her back, Tim. She’s...you’re great, and she’s nice, and that’s,” she sighs, trailing off and keeping her eyes on him.
“It’s not,” his voice is firm. “It’s not ridiculous.”
“Why’s that?” She can hear the challenge in her voice and tries to curb it, chewing on her lower lip to try and tamp it down. She hasn’t felt the tequila in her system until right now – but it’s here, and it’s making her brain fuzzy around the edges and softer in the middle. “Explain it to me.”
Tim sighs and she watches as he readjusts his position, doing his best to turn his body towards her, to keep himself close as he sits up and straightens. He looks serious as his eyes fall onto her face – she swears they drop to her mouth for the briefest of moments. “I had the same moment when I was with Rachel and I ignored it,” he says, his voice low. “I knew it was over, but I tried to push it a little longer – see if we could make it work, and it just wound up hurting worse in the long run. So this time, I started feeling restless and I let it go a little, tried to wait it out...but when it wasn’t getting better, I figured we needed to talk about it.”
“And so that’s it? You get a little restless and you just dump her?” Lucy can feel her voice getting edgy and she hates it – doesn’t really understand it, either.
Tim rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I said and you know it.”
Lucy sighs, shaking her head. “You should give it more time, Tim.”
“I don’t want to waste either of our time like that,” he frowns. “She took it well. Didn’t fight me on it.”
“Didn’t fight you?” Her words sound raw and she slides her hand over her throat. “Why didn’t she fight you?”
Tim snorts, squinting over at her. “Because there was no reason for her to fight me, Lucy. We both knew it was over.”
Lucy swallows, sliding her hand over Tim’s forearm and giving it a soft squeeze. “You didn’t tell me that,” she breathes, letting her eyes settle on her hand against his arm.
“I was going to,” he shrugs. “I figured it’d be smart to do it, first.”
“I guess,” she nearly whispers, brushing her thumb along the bone of his wrist. Lucy looks up at his face slowly, taking it in and feeling her throat tighten. She doesn’t understand how he just looks at her that way, sometimes – so open and vulnerable, so present, so Tim. It’s a Tim she hasn’t always had access to, one she’s proud to have around now. “I don’t know why anyone would choose not to fight for you, though.”
“Lucy,” his voice is low – lower than she thinks he intends it to be. She swallows, raising her brow in question. “I don’t know why you’re confused about Chris and his feelings, then.”
Lucy shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Oh, yeah?” He’s got the tiniest of smiles on his face and Lucy stretches up a bit, wanting to lean her forehead against his but settling for being closer to him. “What do you want to talk about, then?”
Lucy watches his expression move – from bemused to concerned to confused and back as she squeezes his arm lightly. “You deserve to be with someone who’s going to fight for you, Tim,” she doesn’t know where it comes from, but as soon as the words leave her mouth, she knows they’re exactly what she needs to say. He squints at her but she slides her hand up to his face, pressing her finger against his lips and shaking her head. “You do, listen to me,” she leans up a bit further, feeling his breath on her face, smelling the tequila on his breath. She shuts her eyes as she speaks. “You’re one of the greatest people I know, you deserve someone who’s going to put their ass on the line for you if they have to.”
“What if I don’t want them to have to,” he murmurs, his voice low.
“A very Tim Bradford answer,” Lucy breathes, shaking her head. She slides her hand away from his mouth, her fingers ghosting his cheekbone gently. “That part doesn’t matter. Maybe they never have to, that’s okay...but if they do, they should be ready and willing. I need you with someone who’s going to go to bat for you, Tim.”
His laugh is low and gravely. “You need it?”
She nods, knowing his eyes are on her. “Mhm,” she hums. “No exceptions.”
“What do you need that for? The knowledge that someone’s going to...what, fight for me? Take care of me? I can take care of myself.”
You shouldn’t have to, though, Lucy wants to say. You’re too good of a person – too selfless – to ever have to do it all yourself.
I know you don’t like the idea of someone taking care of you, she wants to explain, but you deserve to have someone doing that, even when you’re not aware of it. You deserve someone who knows just what you need without you having to tell them. Someone who buys you a new bunch of celery on their trip for groceries because they saw you were running low, who’s already booked the gym for you before you even realize you need to hit the heavy bag. You deserve somebody who would fight tooth and nail to keep you around because you’re you. Because you’re the best person I know. Because you’re Tim.
She wants to ball her hands into fists and grab onto his shirt, look up at him with pleading eyes as she tells him: I need you to have someone you can fall back on – not just because you deserve it, not just because you’re you, but because I need you to be happy. Tremendously, side-splittingly, overwhelmingly happy – so happy I can hardly recognize you. I want you to feel a level of calm, a level of contentment that you didn’t know you could feel...because you so supremely deserve it. You deserve to be secure in the person you love, in the fact that you always have a safe place to land.
Lucy wants to breathe, her forehead touching his own, her breath mixing with his: You’re so good, Tim – so good that someone should be looking out for you. And I need someone to treat you the way I would.
She feels the words form in her brain, mold into a little sentence and anchor on her tongue. She tries to push them out of her mouth, but instead of materializing into speech, they push her body forward. They slide her palm to Tim’s cheek, they surge her up to his mouth, they cover his lips with her own. The words slide from her tongue to his own, gently, slowly, purposefully as she kisses him and feels her heart clutch in her chest, her lungs burn, her skin prickle. She feels Tim’s hands slide to her back, pulling her against him further, holding her close. She shivers against him, holding his face, keeping him there for as long as she can until she has no choice but to pull away and lean her forehead to his, breathing heavily.
She swallows, licking her lips, the taste of Tim on her tongue.
Her thoughts come back to her slowly, and then crash in all at once. She’d just kissed Tim. She’s holding Tim’s face. She knows what Tim’s tongue feels like when it’s in her mouth. She feels Tim’s breath against her face. She can feel his heart beating, or maybe that’s hers, she isn’t sure.
Chris had said he loved her, tonight.
“Oh, no,” she swallows, shaking her head, pulling back. “Oh no, oh fuck.”
“Hey,” Tim’s voice is low, “hey, hey, Lucy.”
“No,” she wrenches herself out of his grip, “no, no, fuck, fuck, I’m so sorry, Tim.”
“Lucy, it’s fine,” Tim’s looking at her, but she won’t look back. She can feel his eyes, and she knows if she looks at him she’ll stay right here, let this go.
She doesn’t know that she wants to let this go, whatever the fuck it is. She stands up, nearly kicking over the more-than-half empty tequila bottle and making her way over to the chair her bag’s settled on. “I’m going to get myself a ride,” she presses her hand to her face, digging through her bag with the other and grabbing her phone, “I’m so sorry, Tim.”
“What are you sorry for?” Tim’s voice is a little harder than she’d expected and she focuses on the glowing screen of her phone, her fingers shaking a bit when she starts to type her address into the rideshare app.
Lucy shakes her head. “That was,” she bites on the inside of her cheek, focusing on the screen for a moment before she continues, “that was stupid, that was...a moment, we don’t need to,” she looks over at him, then quickly back at her phone screen because looking at him isn’t a good idea right now, “we don’t need to discuss it.”
“Lucy,” his voice is even harder, “can you calm down? Sit down, take a breath.”
Lucy holds up her phone, the car still visibly several minutes away on the screen, “No, no, I’m,” she jiggles the phone, “I’m getting a ride, I’ll be out of your hair.”
“You’re not in my hair,” he sounds weak in a way that hurts her, a little. “You...you didn’t do anything, alright? It’s fine.”
“I know it’s fine,” she lies, her heart hammering in her chest. It’s the furthest thing from fine – kissing Tim Bradford had been the most exhilarating thing that had happened to her all fucking night, and someone had told her they were in love with her. “It’s so fine that we don’t need to talk about it, and I can just...go home, and,” she takes a slow breath, grabbing her bag off the chair, glancing at him over her shoulder, “text you when I’m hungover tomorrow and don’t even remember what we talked about tonight.”
“You’re not going to not remember what we talked about tonight,” he says, and his voice is a bit lighter – she thinks he almost sounds offended, or something. There’s no way he’s offended, right?
Lucy swallows, her phone buzzing in her hand. She glances down, then looks back up at Tim with every intention to tell him that her ride is two minutes away. Instead, she catches sight of him, sucks in a harsh breath, and hears her voice quivering as she speaks. “I’m really sorry,” she breathes, shaking her head. “I’ve got to go, okay? I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Lucy,” he’s walking towards her as he speaks and she manages to get through the side door before he can catch her arm, making her way through his living room and grabbing her shoes by the entryway. She looks down at them in her hand and decides, against her better judgment, to walk out his front door without putting them on her feet. “Lucy,” she can hear him calling through the house, and she watches from the lawn as he opens the front door, his face twisted in concern. She stops – she has nowhere to go: she can’t drive her car, her ride isn’t here, and the look on his face keeps her frozen. “It’s fine, alright? It’s fine. I don’t want you leaving here thinking otherwise. It was,” he pauses, glancing to his left before finding her eyes. It’s practically his only tell, and she knows it well. “It was just a lapse in judgment, okay?”
Lucy bites down on her lower lip, keeping her eyes locked on his. “Yeah,” she nods. “A lapse in judgment.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he raises a brow at her, and she catches him nearly lick his lower lip before drawing his tongue back into his mouth, “okay?”
“Okay,” she breathes, knowing he can’t hear her. She turns to face the street, gripping her shoes tightly in her hands and trying to even out her breathing.
She was absolutely going to worry about it, and she knew he was, too. Neither of them were particularly good at lying to one another – not anymore, at least. Either way, she lets herself believe it just enough to calm herself down, to climb into the backseat of her ride and tug her shoes on as the car rolls through Tim’s neighborhood.
She lets herself believe it until she’s home and in bed, her phone close to her face when it vibrates with a text from Tim – I’ll pick you up for shift tomorrow so you can grab your car after work. Be ready early and we can stop at that coffee place you like on the way.
She sends off a quick okay, letting herself believe they’ll be back to normal tomorrow until her eyes are closed, until she licks her lips to find them still tingling with the lingering taste of tequila and Tim.