Justine stood outside the door, raised a hand to knock, then pulled back. This was silly. She did*’t want to be here – no, she did*’t want to want to be here. But here she was.
She thought of a time she had stood outside Lucas’ door, afraid to knock. She’d been in his family’s small home, and his mother had watcher her waver at this same point. She had regarded her warily – she knew of her son’s friendship with Justine, but what had brought this high-class girl to their humble quarters?
“Are you all right, dear?” she’d asked after Justine had stood for several minutes, hesitating.
“Yes – I…” she faltered, sick with nerves.
His mother clearly did*’t know what to say. “Do you – would you like to talk about it?” Then added quickly, “My lady.”
She flushed furiously. “No…it’s fine.” She braced herself and opened the door. Lucas lay sprawled on his bed, napping. One arm lay across his stomach, the other out on the bed, as if gesturing to her. She slid into that space next to him, pressing her head to his chest.
He shifted, opened his eyes. “Mhm, hey,” he said. Then he jerked upright, out from under her. “Sorry ---“
“No, no, it’s okay,” she said, sitting up and straightening her clothes.
“Um, what are you doing here?” he asked her. He looked around his room, and she did too, noticing how organized it was. He had a shirt thrown over a chair and some books and papers strewn around, but for the most part, everything was put away neatly. Drawn to explore, she rose and began to wander around the spare room, searing for clues, new information about him.
She’d never before seen the servants’ quarters of the palace before. She only knew her own room, with its tapestries, curtained bed, and closet full of nice, expensive clothes. Lucas had no ornate rugs, only bare wooden walls and floors. A small dresser – 3 drawers – stood alone in the corner, which must have held all his shirts and pants, and a single comb lay on top.
03-Aug-2011 03:56:39
