Found her

Chapter 49 | Penthouse

S A D I E

'Tell me a story.' I say, breathing in his smell. Like leather and peppermint, like autumn and expensive cologne. He smells like home.

He hums, thinking. He runs his fingers through my hair, combing through the strands. 'You used to love grabbing my pinky when you wanted to hold my hand. My pinky and my ring finger, it was quite cute actually.'

I grin. 'Yeah?'

'Definitely.' He agrees. 'We've come a long way, princess, haven't we?'

'Well, I don't remember most of it, but sure, a long way.' I say, tracing the small bruises on his knuckles. God knows from what.

A knock on my door interrupts us, and I immediately throw Lucas his shirt, which is discarded on the floor or the bed. He lazily puts it on and lays back down, just when I call out a 'Come in!'

Mom walks in two steaming cups of coffee in her hand which she places on my bedside table, which is currently the only part of the room which is not littered with stuff.

She sends a disapproving look at me. 'How can you find your stuff in this rubbish?'

'I manage.' I say defensively.

'Lucas, does your room look like this, too, or is it just Sadie?'

'Mom!' My yell is muffled into my pillow.

Lucas just chuckles. 'No, it's a bit less... cluttered.'

Mom rounds on me. 'You know, you can learn a thing or two from your boyfriend over here.'

'Are we done here?' I ask, resurfacing, turning to face my smiling mother.

'Quite done, yes.' She replies. 'You all booked today?'

'Yes, we have a date.' I state, pressing a light kiss to Luca's cheek.

***

Our date mostly consists of me following Lucas around in his recording studio, listening to him sing, watching him play his guitar. It would've been boring if Lucas wasn't so... well... Lucas.

He's beautiful.

I could stare at him for ages. There is nothing boring about Lucas Edwards. From his blue eyes to his crooked smile. There is nothing uncertain about him, he is all confident posture and masked smiles.

'You're staring.' He tells me, looking up from his sheet music in his lap.

'You're beautiful.' I tell him, watching his face crack at the edges, the mask that he puts on in public threatening to slip.

'No one's ever told me that.' He tells me. 'Hot? Sure, but not beautiful.'

That is a tragedy.

'Well you are.' I say, twiddling with the bracelets on my hand.

It takes about ten seconds before his control slips, grabbing my hand and pulling me into his lap, hugging me tightly. He doesn't push, never asks for anything I can't give, never wanting anything more.

'Is this okay?' He asks, gripping my chin with one hand, the other wrapped around my hair.

I smile, a little breathless, from what though, I haven't the slightest clue. 'Yes, Lucas, it's okay.'

He places me back down next to him and grabs his guitar, twiddling with the tuning machines for a bit before placing his hands on the strings, pausing to look at the sheet music, then resumes playing.

His music is like taking a breath after a long time underwater. It's carefree, and comforting and so very soft. He's been singing a lot about me, that love-sick fool. Singing about losing me, then finding me. Singing about loving me.