“You do you,” Lucas nods his head in my direction, eyebrows raised. “I’ll do me,” and then, with a grin, he decides to toss out, “And we’ll do each other.”

Stifling an annoyed groan, I settle for rolling my eyes. Resting the side of my head against my palm, I have to force myself to focus on the sheets of paper in front of me.

There is the sound of shuffling for a few beats before I feel Lucas’ huff of air on my ear.

A tingly sensation takes over, and I have to battle the urge to look at him.

“Hey,” he begins, teasing me by playing with my hair.

Unable to hold back, I reluctantly turn to face him.

“I’m busy, Lucas.”

He smiles. “So am I.”

I cock an eyebrow. “With what exactly?”

He returns the look, the strand of hair curled around his finger slipping off when he retreats his hand.

Swallowing whatever is in his mouth—which I presume to be a snark comment—he simply stares at me, fluttering those blond eyelashes as if to soften my exterior.

“Watching you watch your homework.” he finally answers.

My face betrays me by flushing a most-definitely prominent shade of pink, and it pains me when he notices because an accomplished expression sharpens his features.

“No need to be flustered, hun, I just like to speak my truth.”

I bite my bottom lip, repressing several sarcastic remarks.

“Yeah, and you also have a tendency of over sharing, but I guess that’s a side affect of being honest, isn’t it?” I jokingly question him.

Brows furrowed, he rolls over onto his side, staring at me with a challenging look.

“I cannot help the fact I have a lot of thoughts,” he starts, and it is difficult to repress a laugh because I already know where this is going. “My brain is like fireworks, new ideas constantly sparking and lighting up.”

I have to cut him off. “You sound ridiculous.”

My observation doesn’t prevent him from continuing his ramble.

“Sometimes my head feels like it has layers, and each one is a different thought—or something.” he explains while sitting up, and I realize he is about to give me a rundown of how his mind functions.

But in all honesty, it is quite amusing.

Using his hands to add dramatic effect, he rants, “Basically, one layer is a thought, the next is a song, the third, well, more thoughts, and the fourth is just there for extra space.”

Blinking, he waits for a response.

All I am able to come up with is, “Uh, what…?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “But there is no fifth layer because I dislike the number five.”