If she told herself that the only reason she was walking to class with him was that so her drawings of him later - for her project on 'life as we see it' - would be more accurate, she felt a little better.
Lucy shouldered her satchel and began the short walk from the cafeteria to the English classrooms. As per usual, she was shoved and jostled by the other students trooping towards the exits, dodging nimbly around gossiping prep - types and quiet nerds and jeering jocks.
Lockwood's tall frame meant other people dodged out of his way pretty sharpish, and Lucy didn't blame them.
In his black leather jacket, his dark eyes, his strong frame, he looked like he could quite easily toss anyone in this crowd over his shoulder with little to no thought.
Not that Lucy cared, or anything.
Because she totally didn't.
Lucy cleared her throat and pushed between a pair of tittering teenage girls, who blushed adoringly as Lockwood shimmied past them politely, smiling.
He caught up to her in a few seconds, long legs keeping pace with her fast strides. "What book are you studying?", he asked, looking down at her.
"We're halfway through Pride and Prejudice", she replied shortly. Lockwood nodded slowly. "Great. I've already read it, actually. We did it at my old school, in Nevada"
"Nevada? I thought you were from Florida?"
He shrugged. "I've been all over"
She opened her mouth to ask something else, then shut it as the telltale click of several pairs of heels pierced the veil of quiet chatter that echoed around the hall.
"And you must be the new boy?"
Slowly, the pit of her stomach filling with dread, wishing wordlessly that the ground would just open up and swallow her whole-
"The linebacker?"
Penelope Fittes, in all her finely primped glory, looked Lockwood up and down with a smirk, her cherry lipgloss barely crinkling.
Behind her, her little clique had assembled. Holly Munro, radiant in yellow, smiled prettily, her dark skin glowing in a way Lucy's would never. Talya Rotwell's red suit made her green eyes look even more vicious up close.
The Greaser nodded slowly. "Anthony Lockwood. Everyone calls me Lockwood"
Lucy was suddenly very much aware that everyone else in the hallway had stopped and was watching the small group intently.
The girl pursed her lips, blinking coyly, before extending a slender hand. "Penelope Fittes"
Lockwood shook it, eyes discreetly taking in her silver blazer and pencil skirt, her white kitten heels, the perfect straightness of her mahogany hair.
He released her hand, her perfectly manicured nails lingering on his bronze skin for a moment. Then, Penelope's shrewd copper - coloured eyes slid to Lucy.
"Ah. I see you've been assigned a guide", her voice was like silk, slipping through the warm, crowded corridor and coiling into a tight knot around Lucy's insides.
Lockwood grinned. "Oh, no. Lucy's a friend of a friend. I... assume you two know each other?"
Penelope smiled sickly - sweet. "Oh, yes. I know Lucy"
If by 'knowing someone', she meant 'throwing a cup of fruit punch over their white cardigan because they accidentally sat in your seat at Lunch in eight grade', then yes, Lucy supposed Penelope did know her.
A loud, shrill bell sounded, and the doors on either side of the corridor opened, the crowds slowly beginning to thin out.
"I'm sure I'll see you again, Anthony", Penelope took one confident stride forwards and placed her hand, spread open, on his chest, smiled prettily, and swept past.
But not before she hissed something in Lucy's ear.
"Don't forget where you come from, garbage girl"
Then, with a tinkling laugh and waft of flowery perfume, she and her little ensemble swept off down the hallway, heels clicking as they strutted off.
"Huh. She seems... uh...", Lockwood stared after Penelope's retreating figure for a moment, before blinking, and looking down at Lucy, who was glaring after her.
"Like a mythic bitch? Yeah. You're right. She is"
He chuckled, and then turned, his eyes falling on a rather impatient gentleman tapping his watch in one of the doorways, and whispered to Lucy that they should probably move.
-:-:-
"So... how's Lockwood?"
Lucy paused, her fork of pasta that she wasn't supposed to be eating yet a few inches from her mouth. All of her sisters eyes were on her, Olivia's brown eyes smiling through her overgrown fringe.
"I don't... who?"
Her sisters smirk grew. "Lockwood. You know. New guy. Tall, tanned, handsome devil, really. Looks a lot like the guy in your sketches, actually. The one who walked you-"
Lucy's fork clattered to her plate. "You didn't", she hissed desperately.
"I did", she whispered, and then jerked back abruptly in her seat as Mom walked in. A stern, five foot six widow in a floral dress entered the room and the four remaining sisters dropped back into their hard wooden seats obediently.
"Girls", she greeted coolly.
"Mom", they replied in unison.
She held out her arms as a cue for the girls to take her hands. They joined hands with each other, and Mom cleared her throat.
"Dear lord, we send our thanks for this food that we are about to receive. We pray that you will forgive us our trespasses and see it in your merciful heart to bless us..."
Her mother's droning voice barely reached Lucy's ears.
Without her wanting it to, her mind slid back to the events of today.
More precisely, it slid back to when, after school, she'd been sat in her usual seat at the top of the bleachers, finishing her sketches from art class in the overcast afternoon light.
Lucy loved it up here; she could see the town a mile or so away, and then the woods, ringed about them, then further away, the rolling green hills.
Far below on the football field, the team was warming up, tossing footballs back and forth and jogging laps.
She was just adding the finishing touches to a piece creatively titled 'two oranges and a pear' - class homework - when a loud cheer echoed up from the field below.
"Hey, man! You actually came!"
"Of course. Unless you didn't really want me-"
"No way, man! Come on!"
Lucy looked up and paused, her pencil hovering above the notebook.
Lockwood's tall figure had appeared on the pitch, gym bag slung casually over one shoulder. He was wearing a plain white t shirt and black shorts.
"Alright. Where do you want me?"
Jamie Fitzroy jogged up to him, clapping him on the back. "So, actually, we were thinking we'd start with some tackling drills..."
Lucy drags her eyes away and back down to her page. Stop gawking, a voice inside her scolded, he's a Greaser and is definitely bad news.
Yeah. Okay. But he was definitely the most... aesthetically pleasing guy Lucy had ever seen. She had to be honest.
"Lockwood! You go here!"
She watched in self - disgusted awe as he took down several of the burliest football players, grunting a little in effort as he forced them onto the ground.
His sounds of effort made her knees weak, and Lucy didn't much care to consider why.
She alternated between pretending to sketch, and not - all - too - subtly watching Lockwood roughly tussling on the floor with the others.
Time flew by, as when Lucy happened to glance at her watch it had already gone quarter past five. Muttering a short curse, she clambered quickly to her feet, shoving her notebook into her satchel, swinging it up over her shoulder.
With practiced ease, she made it about halfway down the bleachers, jumping from seat to seat, when a loud shout made her look up.
"Heads!"
"Wha-"
Thump!
Suddenly, Lucy was on her back between a row of benches, her satchel a few feet away, a muddy football impacting where she had been stood a second before, something warm and heavy on top of her, cushioning her fall, and between her legs-
Lockwood, actually.
He was on top of her, face about an inch from hers, and he was shockingly warm.
Somehow, in the second between her being fully stood and being on the floor, splayed between the seats, he had managed to nestle his hips between her thighs, and get his arms behind her head.
And he smelt... really good.
"Are you okay?"
His voice was husky, and very close to her ear. Somehow, it was suddenly rather hard to breathe.
"Yes, I- Fine. I'm fine"
A loud cheer went up on the football field, and Lucy awkwardly peered over Lockwood's shoulder, catching sight of the boys gesturing obscenely and leering.
She pushed his shoulders, hinting that he should probably get up now. Carefully, he extricated himself from between her legs, and offered her a hand up.
Lucy stared at it.
Then, slowly, she took it.
The palm of his hand alone was huge; with his fingers, it engulfed hers entirely in a calloused warmth, as he pulled her gently to her feet, steadying her.
Pointedly, Lucy brushed herself off, clearing her throat.
"You sure you're alright, Luce?", Lockwood asked, looking her up and down, but not before he flipped off his teammates, "you've gone awfully red"
"Perfectly fine", she replied primly, tugging her cardie close, "I have to go now. Goodbye"
"Oh, hey!"
Reluctantly, Lucy turned.
"Your bag"
A couple of seats up, Lockwood was holding out her satchel for her to take. "Do you want me to walk you?"
Lucy jumped up and snatched it. "No. You're busy. I'm fine by myself"
"Alright. See you later?"
"Yeah. Maybe"
Lucy turned back to the football field, only to see that everyone had gone back to their individual training. Lockwood picked up the football and jogged to her side, passing it from hand to hand. "They're not gonna miss me for a while, and my offer still stands"
The girl weighed her options - what harm could it do? It wasn't like Lockwood was the sort to push her into a darkened alleyway and grope her, or steal her purse.
"Okay", Lucy replied after a moment. He grinned. "Great. Gimme one sec to grab my bag, and then I'll be with you"
They made their way to the bottom of the bleachers, Lockwood leaving her side briefly to go and retrieve his gym kit.
Watching him from a distance, she cocked her head to the side a little as one of the other footballers - Robert? Ram? - strutted up to him. They spoke, and Lockwood frowned, his eyes darting briefly in Lucy's direction.
The other footballer said something and laughed, punching Lockwood's arm. He smiled in response, saying something short, before turning and walking back to where Lucy was waiting.
"Everything okay?", she asked.
"Yeah, it's... its fine", he replied noncommittally.
Lucy frowned. "You don't sound sure"
"Nothing I can't deal with"
"Oh... alright", she pushed a lock of hair out of her face, and allowed him to lead her along the edge of the football pitch.
They reached the car park, Lockwood removing his helmet from his bag, then tightening the strap of his duffel bag so it sat close against his torso.
Lucy paused by the school sign, watching with barely - concealed interest as his tall, slim figure sauntered up to the motorcycle parked beneath a low hanging tree.
"Want a ride?"
Up close, the machine was... black. It was shiny, metallic, black, with an exposed engine. He straddled it, long legs reaching the tarmac easily.
"I, um... can... can two people fit?"
He laughed. "Yeah. Come here", he held out a hand, curling his bony fingers to ask her over.
After a seconds hesitation, Lucy moved over to the bike, looking it over with curious eyes.
"It's a BMW R25", he replied to a question she hadn't yet asked, "top speed of about 140 kilometres an hour. But, uh, I've been able to get it to do just a bit more"
"Where do I...?", Lucy trailed off, gesturing my awkwardly at the bike. Lockwood sat back, long legs still resting easily on the pedals. He patted the space between his thighs.
"Between your... legs?"
"Yep"
Very apprehensively, Lucy stepped forwards. And then again.
"I don't bite", Lockwood said with a quiet smile.
She stopped when she got to the bike, awkwardly perching on the seat in front of him, knees pressed self - consciously together.
Lockwood patted her left knee. "Put this over the other side. And then...", he paused as she shifted herself, "lean back into me"
He reached around her, resting his hands on the handle bars. She did so, acutely aware of several things; the strength of his arms, his warmth against her back, the scent of his cologne, his solidness... all over.
It was with a strange sense of reluctance that she ducked beneath his arm, mumbled a quick 'I've got to go', and raced off across the parking lot.
"For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful. Amen"