Chapter 7

This was my first time skipping class to run away from school. As an outcast, I couldn’t afford to be that rebellious kid.

But it seemed like Lucas was quite experienced in doing so, thanks to the secret passageway in the school's basement.

I couldn't believe my eyes as Lucas led me outside of the school, away from the prying eyes of teachers and fellow students.

"Where does your grandma live now?" I asked, trying to keep up with his brisk pace as we headed toward a parking lot adjacent to the school campus.

"The same old neighborhood," Lucas replied casually, glancing back at me. "It's just a short ride away."

I scanned the parking lot, wondering which car belonged to Lucas.

However, my question was soon answered when I nearly collided with him as he abruptly stopped in front of me.

My eyes widened in disbelief as I peered over his shoulder.

"Please tell me that's not yours," I blurted out, stunned.

With a confident grin, Lucas swung his leg over a sleek, black motorcycle, his hands gripping the handlebars with practiced ease.

"Hop on," he said, patting the spot behind him.

I looked at the motorcycle skeptically. "Is it safe? Do you even know how to ride it?"

Lucas chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "Shana, trust me. Just get on."

I had never ridden on a motorcycle before, let alone on the back of one.

Taking a deep breath, I followed Lucas's advice and positioned myself directly behind him.

As I settled in, I couldn't help but notice the warmth and firmness of his body against mine.

"You're going to want to hold on to me," Lucas warned, revving the engine of the motorcycle.

Heeding his advice, I wrapped my arms tightly around his waist, my cheek resting against his back.

The wind tousled my hair as Lucas accelerated, and a sense of exhilaration washed over me.

I lifted my head from his back, taking in the scenery rushing past us.

The ride was surprisingly freeing, the wind against my skin invigorating.

I couldn't help but notice how effortlessly Lucas maneuvered the motorcycle, driving with a cautious yet skillful touch.

As I glanced at him with a smile on my face, Lucas glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes meeting mine.

"How do you feel?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the wind.

"I could get used to this," I admitted, the excitement evident in my tone.

Lucas chuckled, the vibrations from his chest reverberating against me.

"I love riding. It's my personal escape," he confessed, his words carried away by the wind. "Whenever I feel upset or need to clear my head, I just put on my helmet and drive for miles. Sometimes, I even ride all night."

His revelation puzzled me.

Lucas had transformed from Bear, the bullied kid, into the confident, popular, strong, and attractive Alpha he had become.

It seemed as though he had nothing to worry about.

"Why does it sound like you get upset often?" I asked, curiosity lacing my words. But Lucas remained silent, his expression unreadable.

Soon, we arrived at Lucas's grandma's house, a place I knew well.

The neighborhood brought back memories as we pulled up in front of a dusty blue house with a white picket fence.

"It looks exactly the same," I exclaimed, a mix of awe and nostalgia in my voice as I stood, gazing up at the familiar abode.

"Grandma Jo doesn't like to change much," Lucas remarked, parking the motorcycle before leading the way to the front door.

Lucas knocked on the door, and we anxiously waited for it to open.

A wave of nervousness washed over me as I stared at the white front door.

I hope Grandma Jo remembers me. It's been so long.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" an older woman's voice called out from behind the door.

Lucas rolled his eyes playfully at me, and I couldn't help but smile.

When the door finally swung open, Lucas's grandma's eyes lit up at the sight of her grandson.

But as her gaze shifted to me, she appeared shocked.

"Oh dear, Lucas, what happened to this young woman?" she exclaimed, her eyes fixating on the bandage on my forehead.

"Grandma," Lucas began a hint of excitement in his voice. "Don't you recognize her?"

Lucas's grandma scrutinized me for a moment before her hands flew to her mouth.

Tears glistened in her eyes as she choked out, "Oh my goodness! Shana? Is it really you?"

I nodded, my own eyes welling up with tears as I embraced her in a warm hug. It had been too long.

After we pulled away, Lucas's grandma gestured for us to enter her house. "Come in! Come in! My goodness, Lucas. When was the last time you had a proper meal? You look like you're starving."

As Lucas and I settled at the dining table, his grandma returned with a tray of sugar cookies, my personal favorite, held in one hand, and slices of strawberry cake in the other.

At the sight of the bountiful spread, Lucas's face fell. "Grandma, you know I've been trying to eat healthier lately," he said, his tone tinged with a touch of attitude, which surprised me.

"It's okay to indulge in a little bit of sugar every once in a while," his grandma replied, her tone filled with affectionate admonishment.

"Well, it's not okay for me," Lucas insisted, lines of frustration creasing his forehead.

I was taken aback by his refusal of his grandma's cooking.

The Bear I once knew would never turn down his grandma's desserts.

“Lucas.” My tone held an authority to it as I gave him a frown.

I tried communicating to him through our eyes, What’s your problem?

“I’m just not hungry,” Lucas insisted, pouting his lips.

“It’s his loss,” I told Grandma Jo, trying to fix the suddenly strange atmosphere. “That just means there’s more dessert for us.”

Ignoring his protests, I picked up one of the largest slices of cake and began eating it in front of Lucas.

But the more I ate, the more I realized how stuffed and uncomfortable I was becoming.

The cake was simply too much for my small frame to handle.

"You don't have to force yourself to eat," Lucas said, concern lacing his words as he tried to intervene.

I dismissed his worry, shoving another mouthful of cake into my mouth.

Seemingly irritated by my persistence, Lucas stood up from the table and walked away.

Confusion washed over me.

What was his problem?

He had been perfectly fine before we arrived at his grandma's house, but once the food came out, he transformed into a different person.

And his grandma was right, a little bit of cake wouldn’t kill him.

It was strange seeing him act so rude in front of his grandmother.

Just as I was about to take another bite of cake, a strong arm appeared in front of me.

My gaze traveled up the arm, taking in the dark hair, the prominent veins, and the large hand adorned with cute finger dolls that belied the strength I knew lay beneath them.

Surprise coursed through me.

The finger dolls were familiar, reminding me of a different time with this same stubborn, strong boy.