**So...I kind of hate this chapter.  Well, the way it's written anyway.  I don't think it's my best.  But I did want to publish something since it's taken so long.  Sorry about that, by the way.  I just moved four hours away from home for college and it's taken a while to get adjusted.  I'm slowly getting there though :)  Like and comment please!**

"Naomi, honey!" his mom says excitedly after she's climbed into the car just ten minutes later, "I haven't seen you in so long!" 

I turn around and get a glance at her, at the woman that's been more of a mom to me than my own mother, and see her familiar short, curly blonde hair and her deep navy blue eyes. Lucas has always taken after his mom in the looks department, except for his height. He gets his six foot two stature from his dad who is probably the tallest guy I've ever seen standing at six foot five.  

The two of them are the sweetest people I've ever met, though, so I'm not exactly surprised when I find that his mom's enthusiasm at seeing me is almost contagious. I smile happily back at her after turning in my seat and say, "I know, two years!" 

Mrs. Emma leans forward and slaps her son's shoulder, scolding him, "Lucas I can't believe you kept her away for so long. What the hell is wrong with you?" 

I giggle at Lucas' expression, which is a mix of playful yet real guilt, and then tell his mom, "I know, I think I missed you more than I did him!" 

The two of us start laughing and when I look over to face Lucas, I see that he really doesn't find it all too funny. He has his knuckles tightened around the steering wheel, so tight that I see white, and it makes me wonder why he seems to be so mad. He knows that his mom and I are just playing, so why does it look like he's taking everything so seriously? 

Mrs. Emma obviously notices the same thing as she says, "Lucas sweetie, you know we're just kidding." 

I see his grip on the wheel lighten up a good bit, but he's still holding so tight that it worries me. Shouldn't he be happy that I'm not sincerely bashing him in front of his mother? If I didn't love the woman like my own mother and didn't care what she thought of me, I'd have half a mind to rant about how awfully he's treated me for the past two years. But I can't do that. Mrs. Emma thinks the world of her son and I really don't have the heart to ruin that. 

He says with a clenched jaw, "I know." 

Mrs. Emma rolls her eyes dramatically so that I can see and I bite down a laugh, knowing that it probably won't make it any better. After a few moments she asks me, "So how've you been?" 

Knowing that if I tell her the truth, that her son has made my life as pathetic as can be, it'll only hurt her, so I say fakely, "It's been good, I guess." 

She nods, "Good, good. How's school? I know Lucas has been struggling a bit with the work load that they give all of the seniors." 

Lucas? The golden boy has been struggling with his grades? I know that the two of us are neck in neck with six and seventh place out of the top grade list for seniors posted outside of the principal's office, but he's always been just one step ahead of me. How can he be struggling? He's number six out of three hundred students.  

I shrug and say, "I've been doing okay. I'm trying to get a scholarship so..." 

She cuts me off excitedly, "Honey where are you going? Lucas is going to UCLA for football, it'd be great if you could be around there!" 

Not wanting to tell her that I'd hate to be so close to him, that I just want to get the hell away from him because this hold he has over me is insane, I smile and say, "Anything away from home would be great." 

Her deep blue eyes automatically turn sympathetic as she asks me, "It's still bad, sweetie?" 

I can feel Lucas' eyes on me, reminding me of the afternoon where he stopped by to drop off my jacket and witnessed just how had it's gotten, but I ignore his pity and just tell her, "Nothing I can't deal with." 

She nods and says, "Well sweetie, if you need to you're always welcome to stay at our place. We still have that guest bedroom with your name on it." 

Even though I know I'd never stay at that house again just because of everything that's happened with Lucas, I still say thankfully, "I'll keep that in mind." 

She laughs, "Don't let my idiot son keep you away, alright?" 

Although I secretly hate that her son has made the decision to keep me away already, I just giggle and say, "Alright." 

OoOoO 

"Oh, hey babe," Lucas says into the phone after we've dropped his mother off at her appointment. We're halfway to my house, it's only about ten minutes until I'm free, but of course Destiny has to call him and make this car ride even more awkward. What a bitch. 

I pull my knees up to my chest, what I always do when I'm uncomfortable, and try to focus on something other than the guy I used to be in love with talking to his girlfriend. But that, of course, is completely impossible for me to do. So instead I just try to not let it get to me when he says to her, "Yeah I miss you too...of course..." 

But it, of course, does. 

I can feel his eyes on me for a split moment, but I don't give him the satisfaction of meeting his gaze. Maybe his mom being here had made it better for a while, but now it's back to being completely and totally uncomfortable. And his blonde girlfriend is so the reason for it. He says to her, "I have to drop my friend off at their house but I can be there in...twenty minutes maybe?" 

Loving how he doesn't even have the respect for me to tell her my name, I roll my eyes and then bury my face in my knees, praying that this car ride goes by as fast as it possibly can. He says hurriedly, "Hey, let me call you back in a minute, okay?" He follows it a second later with a, "Love you too." 

I hear him place his cell phone back into the cup holder, but I don't turn to face him like I know I should. I really, really, don't want to look at him after he's told his girlfriend the thing I used to yearn to hear him to say to me. What I want him to say to me right now so that I know someone cares.  

We're awkwardly silent for minutes, me too stubborn to say anything to him. About halfway to my house, though, he asks me, "So did your dad ever...you know...apologize?" 

I look up at him incredulously, "What?" 

He gives me a quick look before turning back to focusing on the road straight ahead of him. He says, "That afternoon I went to give you your jacket...did he apologize for what he said?" 

"What? About my being a slut?" I ask him, feeling a bit angry that he's brought this up. Why the hell would he bring up my father after that awkward silence? Does he honestly think it'll make things better? If so, then he's more stupid than I remember. 

He sighs, "Never mind," finally realizing that I'd rather donate a kidney than talk to him about this. 

But I have to know. "Is that why you've started talking to me again?" It all starts clicking in my head after I ask this. He didn't try talking to me seriously until after that afternoon when he saw my dad say that to me. Sure he talked to me in the hallway on the way to the office, but he was just being cordial. It's funny how he hasn't started talking to me after two years until he saw my dad treat me badly. Humiliating anger burning in my chest, I demand, "That's why you started talking to me again, isn't it?! Because you feel sorry for me?!" 

Looking appalled at my realization, he shakes his head quickly and says, "Of course not." 

"Don't lie to me," I seethe at him, not being able to believe that he'd treat me like such a pity case. He felt sorry for me. That's why he's here right now. That's why he tries to talk to me at work, why he offered to bring me home. He feels sorry for me. Tears suddenly start burning my eyelids. He just feels sorry for me. That's all. 

He says in an almost panicked tone, "I'm not lying Naomi! I don't feel...I don't feel sorry..." 

I cut him off, shaking my head disbelievingly. I say, "You're a real pompous ass, you know that? Just because I don't have a perfect little family with a perfect house and a perfect relationship doesn't at all mean that you can look down on me." 

"I don't look down on you!" he argues, "Why would you even think that?" 

"Because it's the truth," I say, tears falling down my cheeks, "That's why we were friends to start, right? I know that your mom felt bad for me because she saw how terrible my parents were so she forced you off on me. Is that the only reason you stuck around? Because you felt bad for me? You probably loved when I confessed to you, right? It gave you a legit reason to ditch me." 

All of a sudden I'm gasping for breath, the tears coming so fast and so hard that I can't even try and control them. They have a mind of their own now. They're falling like rivers down my cheeks, meeting in the corners of my lips like little lakes. I'm just a pity case to him, he never truly cared for me. He only treated me so nicely because he knew how bad off at home I was. He never felt how I felt for him. He never thought the world of me like I thought the world for him. 

"Naomi," he says, leaning over to touch me. I look out of the window and see that he's pulled off to the side of the road so that he can try and comfort me. But when I remember that he's just comforting me because he feels bad for me, I shrink away from his touch for the first time in my life. I've always been pulled to him like a moth to a flame in situations like this, but that was always because I thought he truly cared for me. 

But he doesn't. 

I'm just his charity case. 

Wiping hurriedly at my red, soaked cheeks, I give him a death glare and say, "Just drive me home." I just want to go and curl underneath my covers. I just want to get away from the guy I honestly thought cared for me. But no, he's never cared about me. He's just felt sorry for me. He was only friends with me because his mom thought it'd make me feel better. 

He shakes his head and says, "No. Not until we settle this." 

"What needs to be settled?!" I demand, "It is settled. I got it, okay?" 

"No, you don't get it! Damn it, Naomi. We were best friends since, like, third grade. Why would you even think...?" 

I cut him off yet again by shrieking, "Because you just left! God, when I needed you most you just ditched me! I needed you there, Lucas, I needed you and you just...you just threw me away. So obviously I didn't mean that much..." 

"Of course you did!" he yells, his loud voice startling me. This is the first time I've ever seen him this way, seen him blow up. He's usually always so calm, so collected. "Don't even think for a second that I didn't care." 

I give him a deadly glare and say coldly, "Well you had a very weird way of showing it." 

He scoffs dryly, "Oh? Letting you crash at mine when your dad practically abused you..." 

That's the last straw for me. Once I hear him bring up the most sensitive part of my life like it's nothing to him, I reach down below my seat, grab my things, and then hop out of the Jeep into the horrendous weather. I ignore his calls after me and just slam the door shut behind me and start walking towards the sidewalk. 

I don't even care that he follows me home and makes sure that I get into my house safely and soundly.