Bad Boy, Good Boy (boyxboy)

22 - hello

A/N: I feel a little out of writing and i don't know why. This is the reason why the chapters are a little sucky, but I hope you are okay with that. I'm trying to do the best that I can at the moment which certainly isn't the best I can do. But I don't want to leave you hanging either. Trust me, I feel horrible when I don't upload and I think about it constantly. 

I love you all. Please don't forget that. I have so much respect for you because you've taken the time to invest in reading my creation. And hopefully you'll continue because I have no intention of quitting. I just need to get over these bumps and then it'll all be good, and it WILL be good again and I WILL enjoy writing again (I enjoy it now too, but it just feels a little forced. I just need to do a bit of self-discovery). 

Happy reading x)

Chapter 22 - hello

Lucas

"I'm sweating," Nolan says and wipes his palms against his jeans. Even though I told him not to dress up or anything, he decided to wear a navy shirt – with sleeves rolled up, because it gives more freedom as he put it – and black jeans.

I told him he'd look good in sweatpants and a hoodie, but he just wasn't buying it, accusing me of lying and setting him up for failure with my dad.

But it didn't matter because I decided to follow my advice.

I reach over to him and take his sweaty hand in mine.

"You're fine," I say and glance at him. "I can't promise that he'll love you because I haven't properly spoken to him in a very long time."

Nolan squeezes my hand. "Whatever the outcome, I still love you."

I raise my eyebrow. "Whatever the outcome? Now who's lying."

He rolls his eyes and settles back in the seat. "Of course, if you're going to turn into a psycho, then I will immediately unlove you. It works very easily, the whole loving thing. There's a switch, you know."

I snort. "Of course there is."

Nolan switches the channel and he keeps fidgeting, but I can't blame him. I'm basically crawling out of my skin here, trying to dig a tunnel to normalness. It's not working, though. I don't have a shovel and it's going to take me forever if I just use my fingers to dig.

"Hey, are you ever going to produce another play?" Nolan changes the subject. "It will give me reason to bring you flowers."

I turn left at the sign. "And you can't just do it?"

He shakes his head, completely serious. "No, the event needs to be convenient. Otherwise I'd just feel bad because they'll wither away and that'll be it. We might as well drive to a botanical garden and admire them there."

"You're babbling, babe," I say. "But yes, we can definitely go to a botanical garden."

"So no play?"

"First work, then play," I reply, knowing damn well it isn't what he meant.

He smooths his hair. "Idiot. I just want to see you succeed in what you love doing."

"I love doing you," I mutter as I pull up in the driveway. The sight of the tree making me choke up.

"Insufferable," he says, resting his elbow against the handrest and bringing his fingers to his mouth. He bites on his thumb.

"We're here," I say uneasily.

"In a matter of seconds, I'll be meeting the king then, ay?"

Because he calls me a prince.