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I gave him a slight smile and smoothed his suit, straightening a few creases, playing helpful.
"You should work out," I said teasingly. "You're not as big as Ethan."
Lucas shot me an amused look.
"So you're not some puppet after all."
I switched on starry eyes.
"What—if you want an obedient doll, I can play the part. I can be whatever you want."
His pupils contracted slightly, a rare look of complexity flickering in his eyes.
He said in a low voice, "I like you even more now."
I smiled gently.
Of course I'll placate you—I was raised to.
Growing up in a house where scraps were rationed, I learned early: be good, be useful, maybe you'll get something to eat.
After my brother started stealing from neighbors, I once stole my mother's phone so my parents would blame him instead.
When the police came about a jewelry theft, to please the officers, I ratted my brother out and even got a small reward.
Later, when my parents planned to sell me off to a loathsome neighbor's son, I said yes to keep the peace.
Then I mixed sleeping pills into the congee, took my ID and cash from the house and left.
All of my first twenty years were stitched together by one seam: being the obedient good girl.
Ethan liked pure. I could play pure. Lucas liked wild.
I could play wild. I was a thorough, versatile people-pleaser.
Lucas straightened his jacket.
"I originally intended you as a toy to needle Ethan—but now I don't see you that way."
I raised an eyebrow.
"So what? Should I thank you?"
A look of disbelief flashed across his face.
I pushed him away and turned to leave.
He reached out to stop me. "Say it—where am I not bigger than Ethan?"
I looked him up and down.
"You're not bigger anywhere."
For the first time Lucas's unbreakable smile showed a crack.
He let go, then called after me, "You're not afraid I'll tell Ethan?"
You see the pattern.
One minute ago he's playing the wounded, lonely victim, the next second he's threatening to squeal.
I struck a kitten face and said, helpless: "What should I do? I'm so scared."
Then I pushed past him and left him grinning like a fool.
My people-pleaser instincts told me: some types of people are just like that — the more you ignore them, the harder they try to get your attention.
