Chapter Text
For a week after Lucy had met Lockwood in her library nook, the junior remained a mysterious figure in her life. Sure, she’d drawn him for her art class, and they’d shared a table in the study center while eating; Lucy nibbling on a southwest salad, Lockwood all but devouring a cheesesteak. But after they’d parted company, she hadn’t run into him again.
She’d finally spotted him running from the business school’s side entrance one morning as she walked to her history lecture. His long coat flapped behind him as a long thin bag bounced on his back. Strange how she now looked for him on the quads and around the various buildings. His lanky form should have been easy to spot, yet it wasn’t.
Kat, her roommate, had done a full dive into Lockwood when Lucy returned from class that first day with a smile on her face and a tale to tell. Unfortunately, Kat hadn’t found much. The boy didn’t have Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter. The only pictures they could find of him were on the club fencing team’s website and from his fencing school in London. Kat had to admit she’d never seen someone with such a clean background in her life. It was like he was purposefully keeping a low profile.
When she ran into him next, it was the Friday of Homecoming week. The main quad was already set up to host the frankly enormous alumni party. The entire area had been blocked off for days as teams of workmen put up white tents, installed a temporary floor, and built a stage. Lucy was just generally annoyed by the whole production. It made it significantly harder for her to roll out of bed for her 9 am art history class at 8:55 am. When she’d arrived in class at 9:15 am, due to the tent and a prospective student’s tour clogging the one walkway she needed, Dr. Hagy seemed to find her lateness and creative language amusing. He’d given her a warning not to be late again. She made a mental note to buy him a bottle of Pepsi as thanks.
On the other side of campus, the “upperclassmen” side, the fraternities and sororities were gearing up for a counterparty of sorts. A production similar to the alumni party was happening there. Tents and a stage had been erected with various group banners hung around the exterior. Lucy had watched from the upperclassmen dining hall one afternoon as an ungodly amount of liquor was carried in case by case.
“What is the point of Homecoming?” Lucy asked Kat when she’d returned to their shared dorm for the evening. Kat lay in her bed reading an article for one of her classes.
“It’s not really about us,” Kat said blandly. She was the third generation of her family to attend the school. “It’s for the alumni to come back and relive their glory days. It’s a good chance to network if your major does that kind of thing. Other than that, it’s an excuse to party.” She paused her reading and groaned. “Which reminds me, my parents are coming into town tomorrow so I can’t go to that party either.”
“Which party?” Lucy asked.
“Greeks Seize the Quad,” Kat said looking over at Lucy. “That giant tent filled with booze on the north side of campus? They do it every year to give students something to do away from the adults.I was looking forward to going, getting drunk, and meeting a cute boy.” Lucy faked retching.
“You should go. Let loose for a bit now that mid-terms are over,” Kat suggested.
“I’m not really a party person Kat,” Lucy shot back, “I hate dealing with posh people, and making small talk.”
“Yeah, but free drinks? Weren’t you the one bemoaning the fact you couldn’t get a decent pint last week,” she argued.
“Well aye, but I meant a proper pint from a proper pub. Not the swill Americans seem to consider beer,” Lucy retorted
“Go, enjoy your time, Lucy. I’ll even let you borrow that blue romper you’ve been salivating over since we moved in,” Kat teased. Lucy glanced towards the open door of their small, shared closet. The royal blue lace peeked out between Kat’s raincoat and a sweater dress.
“And the wedges?” Lucy asked innocently.
Kat signed heavily. “And the wedges.” Lucy grinned broadly.
**
Lucy walked across campus with a skip in her step. She hadn’t felt so good about herself in a while. She was wearing the promised blue romper. It was something she would have picked for herself if she’d had the money. It was a royal blue with a leaf design lace overlay. The modest scoop neckline belied the plunging v back which meant Lucy had resorted to boob tape for any hope of support. The mid-thigh skirt hid a pair of shorts that pulled tight against her fuller hips and ass. What she loved the most, the sheer lace half-sleeves were hidden by her trusty black leather jacket.
She ignored the wandering glances of the younger alumni walking towards their party and the wolf whistles from the other students around her. Lucy would go to said party, have a drink, and dance a little. Then it was back to her dorm for a relatively early Friday night.
As she approached the tent, she could already make out the loud electronic music and smell the beer. The test was packed with students in various levels of dress all holding red solo cups of something. A student, probably a senior, with a backward baseball cap, oversized flannel, and tight jeans manned what she assumed was the ‘bar’ area that had been created by stacking sundry liquor and beer boxes together with pink glitter duct tape. Gold puffy paint had been used to write BAR in large letters across what Lucy thought might be Everclear boxes.
“Whatcha having hot stuff?” the boy asked.
“Can of beer,” Lucy said. She wasn’t taking any chances at a party like this. The boy handed over a can of Busch Light.
“Seriously. Please tell me you have proper beer back there,” Lucy whined.
“Sorry hot stuff. Just Busch. You’re welcome to try the jungle juice though,” he said wiggling his eyebrows. Lucy grimaced, turning away to head towards the dance floor.
She cracked her beer and shotgunned it, hoping that the acrid taste would be easier to handle. The people around her whooped encouragement as she drank. Lucy crushed the can in her hand and threw it in the vague in the direction of a trash can. She looked at the dance floor, finding it packed with people. One song, she promised herself, one song then bed.
“Yeah” by Usher started to blare through the speakers pulling her to the dance floor. Lucy found herself with a group of girls she’d never met before. They all sang along and danced together. Unsure of what moves to do, Lucy followed the others through a series of sways, ass shaking, and well getting low. She smiled as she let loose. This was so much more fun than the club Norrie had dragged her to for her 18 th .
“Get it girl,” a tipsy blonde girl said from behind her. The song changed to “Get Low” by Lil Jon. Lucy backed up into the girl grinding on her. The girl’s hands were on Lucy’s hips as she began to match Lucy’s movements. The girls around them howled. The boys watching them cheered. Lucy suddenly felt like eyes were on her specifically. She spun to face the girl and danced with her for a few beats more. Over the girl’s shoulder, she caught sight of a familiar face in the crowd.
“Thanks,” Lucy yelled at the girl. The girl smiled back before pulling a boy with a dark bun in to continue dancing. Lucy pushed through the crowd in an effort to reach Lockwood. When she reached the edge of the dance floor, she saw him. He was lounging in a folding lawn chair, in a suit. Who the hell wore a suit to a frat party? Across from him sat an olive-skinned boy with curly black hair in a pair of worn jeans, a red t-shirt, and a matching flannel. Both had Solo cups in hand, seemingly enjoying the people-watching. A pizza box sat open between them balanced on the arms of their chairs.
As Lucy stalked toward the pair she passed a frat brother, his letters clear on his chest, handing out shots of something. She took one, drowning it before handing the cup back to the cheering brother. The celebration must have drawn Lockwood’s attention, as his eyes were now fixed on her. His arm reached out to nudge the boy sitting next to him. The pair watched as she approached.
“Lockwood,” she called once in earshot. He smiled from ear to ear, seeming to recognize her.
He stood to greet her with a quick hug. “Lucy, right? From the Library?” he asked. She nodded.
“Going to introduce us, Lockwood?” the other boy asked, picking up another slice.
“Lucy, this is my roommate George. George, this is Lucy. She’s the one that stole your spot in the library the other day,” Lockwood said quickly. He took his seat again, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee. Lucy unceremoniously dropped into the spot on his lap.
“Pleasure Georgie,” she said, grabbing a slice. George’s eyes sparkled in the low lights, a knowing smirk on his face.
As she ate, she listened to the two older boys make fun of the people around them. They speculated on which sorority girls were sleeping with which fraternity boys, why a girl called Penelope had chosen a particularly revealing sweater dress that was practically see-through when the light hit it just right, and other topics.
“You going to the game tomorrow, Luce?” Lockwood asked, drawing her back into the conversation.
“Game?” she asked, confused.
“The football game, our school versus the big state uni,” Lockwood clarified.
“Wasn’t planning on it,” she said. Lucy reached for his solo cup, taking a sniff. Whiskey. She took a long sip.
“I’d have shared if you asked,” Lockwood said into her ear. Lucy giggled, earning an exasperated noise from George.
“You should go. Every international student should try to go at least once,” Lockwood offered. “It’s an absolutely fascinating thing to see as an outsider.”
“Never really been a sports fan. Don’t know the rules either,” she said simply. George rolled his eyes.
“It’s like rugby, only with pads and they pass the ball forward,” he explained.
“As it happens, we know the rules,” Lockwood said. “And I’d be happy to go with you as your personal guide to the strange sporting practices of America.”
“When’s the game tomorrow?” Lucy asked. She had work study in the morning, but maybe if the game was in the afternoon, she could make it.
“Kickoff’s at 4pm tomorrow,” George drawled. Lucy looked at the pair of them; it would be nice to have someone to do something with. It was either that have an early night catching up on Dr. Who in her dorm room.
“Sure,” she said, feeling a rush of excitement. “I could meet you at the student center at 3ish, and take the student bus over?”
Lockwood chuckled. “Luce. I am more than happy to drive.”
Lucy raised an eyebrow. “You drive?”
Lockwood nodded. “So how about, I pick you up in front of the student apartments around 2?”
She nodded, taking another sip of his whiskey. “It’s a date then!” Lockwood said a little too loudly. “Make sure to show your school spirit and come ready to learn.” George scoffed, rolling his eyes at Lockwood.
“Don’t give into him too much Lucy. He’s a veritable peacock. Always preening after pretty girls,” George said.
“A peacock,” Lockwood guffawed, “really George is that the best you can do.”
The song overhead changed again, this time “Wobble” by V.I.C started to play. The crowd dancing cheered as did Lucy.
“Come on Lockwood, George, you have to dance to this,” she yelled. She jumped out of Lockwood’s lap and found a place in front of them.
Wobble baby, wobble baby, wobble baby the speakers boomed. Lucy started to dance. Lockwood and George looked at each other confused yet mesmerized by the synchronized shaking in front of them. As she turned to face them, she reached out for their hands.
“Dance with me,” she yelled. I got ‘em shakin they boobies like congos. Man I’m shakin the city like quakes yeah an.
Lockwood took her hand, only to be pulled up into her. Smiling, she put him into a spot next to her.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Lockwood yelled to her.
“Just follow my lead,” Lucy yelled back. George sat watching, a terrified look on his face.
Lockwood watched Lucy for another round of the dance. As they turned away from George, Lockwood started to wiggle with Lucy. 4 counts of shoulders then 4 counts of hips. 4 speed bags to the left. 4 speed bags to the right. Then turn 90 degrees.
“There ya go,” Lucy laughed.
With each turn Lockwood felt a little more comfortable with the movements. By the end of the song, he and Lucy were going full out, laughing at the various squeaks and yowls from George. When the song changed to some pop song Lucy didn’t realize, the pair stopped to watch George. He was covering his eyes like a child, a small sliver of dark iris peeked out between two fingers to keep the pizza and drinks in view.
“Is it over?” he asked.
“It’s over,” Lockwood said, falling back into his seat.
“Oh, thank goodness. Please never do that in my presence again Lockwood,” George said, letting his hands drop.
“So, it’s ok if Lucy does it again?” Lockwood asked, a playful grin on his face.
“I don’t have to live with Lucy now do I,” George shot back. He reached for his solo cup filled with some sort of concoction and downed the contents in one.
Lucy grinned at the pair. “Can I get you another Georgie?”
“No thanks. Brought this from home. My own special mixture. Can’t trust those Nu Delta Psi brothers. There’s no telling what they put in it,” George said. “Remember last year Lockwood. It was carnage.”
Lockwood laughed. “One of their brothers brought a case of Everclear from out of state and mixed it with strawberries, raspberry Schnapps, and birthday cake vodka if I remember correctly. Holly said it was quite delicious—right before she puked on my 2 nd best loafers.”
Lucy swayed a little on her feet. The drinks were starting to catch up with her.
“Alright there Luce?” Lockwood asked, reaching out to steady her in front of him.
“Yeah, just not used to these shoes,” she said. “Borrowed them for my roommate.”
“You’re welcome to sit for a bit if you like,” Lockwood offered. “I need to make the rounds anyway.” He finished his drink. George scoffed at him.
As Lockwood made his way into the crowd, Lucy flopped into his now vacant chair.
“Rounds?” she asked no one in particular.
“Lockwood just means going to socialize with the other business majors and the Greek organization presidents. Not sure why he bothers. He didn’t rush and has said that he’s planning on starting a business back in London when he graduates,” George said.
“Oh, well. Maybe it’s practice for all that networking he’ll have to do in London,” Lucy offered.
George rolled his eyes. “Sure. It’s not nothing to do with him being an attention whore.”
A frat brother walked past their place with a tray of Jell-O shots. Lucy stopped the young man with a smile and picked four of the tiny containers up. She handed two of the shots to George before downing hers in quick succession. They tasted like artificial cherry and gasoline with a texture more liquid than gel.
“They put too much vodka in again,” George mused as he wiggled his second shot. “I’ve told them the proper ratio at least half a dozen times.”
“George?” Lucy asked.
“Hmmm,” he said noncommittally.
“How did you meet Lockwood?”
“We’re old friends. Go back to primary school,” George mused.
“So, you know all the embarrassing stories,” Lucy said offhandedly.
“I know all the stories, period,” George said, downing the second shot. He shook his head as he swallowed. The pair fell into a tense silence, their gazes fixed on the crowd in front of them that was steadily becoming less coordinated. The distant sound of retching told Lucy to be glad she avoided the jungle juice at least.
As she sat, she felt the comfortable floaty feeling she associated with alcohol start to overtake her. It’s a nice change from the feelings of exhaustion and the constant pressure to achieve.
When Lockwood returned, she smiled at him.
“You’re back,” she said. He was a bit blurry now, but that was alright.
“You alright there Luce?” Lockwood asked.
“Peachy doodle,” she said giggling. Lockwood and George shared a look.
“Luce, maybe it’s time you get home,” Lockwood suggested.
“But I’m having fun. Haven’t felt this relaxed since the summer,” she whined. Lockwood and George shared a look.
George shook his head and sighed heavily. “I’ll get the chairs. See you back at the room.”
Lockwood nodded. “Come on Luce, up you get.” He reached for her. Lucy continued to giggle. She took his hands and stood up unsteadily. He offered her his arm. She took it lurching towards the side of the tent.
“This way, silly,” Lockwood said. He pulled her along the edge of the test until they’d ended up on the opposite side headed toward the on-campus student apartments.
Once they were away from the party and no one was close by, Lockwood wrapped his arm around Lucy’s waist pulling her in close.
“You looked gorgeous tonight,” he said. Lucy’s cheeks and neck turned a dusty pink color.
“Thanks Lockwood,” she said looking up at him. She stumbled as they hit a particularly rough patch of the pathway, bricks pulled up and missing.
Lockwood caught her, chuckling to himself. “Already falling for me Luce?” his eyes shining with reflected lamp light.
“No, just stupid people. Who steals bricks from a walkway?” she asked.
“Pledges,” Lockwood said, “some of the frats have them do it as part of their initiation.”
“It’s stupid,” Lucy said bluntly. Lockwood couldn’t help but agree. “They should know better. Some of the other girls around here wear very impractical shoes. I once saw a girl going into the polysci building in 6-inch platforms.”
As they continued forward, Lucy became wobblier on her feet. The next time she began to stumble, Lockwood was already there.
“We don’t have much farther to go,” he said. “Would you like a piggyback ride?” Lucy nodded.
He bent down in front of her to allow her better access. She jumped less than gracefully, wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders. Lockwood grunted softly as his hands secured her thighs.
“You’re heavier than I expected,” he said, straightening up.
“Not used to stout Northern lasses then.” Lucy joked.
“Must be. Since you’re the first one I’ve met,” Lockwood said, tightening his grip before starting forward.
“If I’d realized you had the strength and constitution of a dry twig, I would have kept walking,” she added.
“You’re welcome to get off anytime,” Lockwood laughed. Lucy’s grip on his shoulders seemed to grow tighter at that.
When they made it to his building, Lockwood set Lucy down gently before reaching for his wallet and keycard. The door clicked. Lockwood grabbed Lucy’s hand pulling her forward into the building. It reminded her of her freshman dorm on the other side of campus but smelled like gym socks and stale beer instead of steal beer and Victoria's Secret perfume. He pulled her up the two flights of stairs to his and George’s door.
Lucy leaned against the wall, examining their door. RAs were encouraged to decorate doors for residents. Normally it was just a name made with puffy paint and some glitter. Lucy’s RA had put everyone’s hometown on their door. Lucy’d rolled her eyes when Kat had received the Hollywood sign while she had a Union Jack.
“Anthony?” she asked, reading the sign on his door.
“It’s my given name,” he said, focusing on his keys and the lock, “but no one calls me that. Except my sister and uncle.”
“No nicknames?”
He opened the door, stepping in first. “Come on,” he said. Lucy stepped in and stopped in the doorway.
The apartment was small. Probably about the size of two dorm rooms put together plus a little bit extra. Along one wall was a small kitchenette. A large pot, kettle and a frying pan showed that at least one of the boys was able to cook. The sink was full of dishes. The small living area had the standard college issue wood sofa and armchair with grey cushions. A television was mounted to one wall with a gaming system underneath sitting on a small Ikea media center. Books and games were piled on the coffee table.
There was actual art, not shitty college posters, on the walls giving the whole space a homier feeling. At the other end of the room was a small hallway and a door.
“That’s the bathroom,” Lockwood said, “My room’s to the right, George’s is to the left.”
Lucy nodded as headed for the sofa. She plopped onto the cushions. Reaching for her shoes, Lucy started pulling them off.
She moaned as her feet were freed from Kat’s wedges. Lockwood choked.
“Are you alright?” she asked, rubbing her feet.
“Y.y.y…es,” Lockwood stammered. “Would you like tea?”
“Please, four sugars and a splash of milk,” she said.
Lockwood set about the familiar motions of filling the kettle and setting out two mugs with tea bags.
When he turned around, Lucy was slumped onto the cushions, a soft sore coming from her parted lips.
He smiled to himself trying to burn the image into his head.
While the kettle boiled, Lockwood stole into his room for a spare pillow and blanket for Lucy. He tucked her in carefully and did his best to make as little noise as possible.
When George returned, Lockwood made sure to shush him, pointing to the sofa. George rolled his eyes, before grabbing the spare cup of tea and disappearing into his room for the night.
Lockwood retired to his room, leaving the door open so he could hear if Lucy stirred in the night. He sat up for a while reading the latest issue of London Society his sister had sent. The glossy pictures made him ever so slightly homesick. Jessica Lockwood was pictured at an event for the British Museum, looking beautiful as ever in her emerald gown. Lockwood would have to tell her she looked a little like Queen Guinevere with such long open sleeves. She was wearing their family diadem wrapped in her hair and one of their mother’s diamond and pearl necklaces.
Lockwood glanced at his alarm clock; it was nearly 3am. He’d need to get some sleep if there was hope of surviving the game tomorrow.