Lucas

Lucas was a 17 year old boy living in southern Wisconsin. He was just about as average as any other teenage boy in America—except from the fact that he was exceptionally smart. Even though Lucas was very talented at hockey and was guaranteed a scholarship for it, he rather study abroad instead.

Lucas picked to study aboard in France. Marseille, France, to be specific.

A hosting family was waiting for Lucas, and they had been very kind. the family’s son, Pierre, was his age and offered to show Lucas around their school.

Lucas had learned French before he had arrived, but the it was still a little rocky.

On the first day of school, Lucas was walking to his locker. Pierre had to go to the bathroom, so he was one his own for a while.

As Lucas was walking to his locker, he bumped into someone on accident. He straightened himself out and looked at the person before him.

God, it was a gorgeous boy with golden blonde hair in beautiful waves, sparkling green eyes, long lashes, and the clearest skin he had ever seen.

Lucas swallowed before speaking, “Désolé, c'est mon père.” ‘Sorry, that’s my bad.’ Lucas apologized, but the boy in front of him, who was dressed in a black turtle neck and an expensive, navy blue blazer, only stared at him with an unimpressed look.

“It’s fine.” The boy murmured, his voice low.

Lucas raised a brow, “How did you know I was American? Is my accent that bad?” Lucas asked, making the beauty in front of him sigh and gesture to what he was wearing.

“What? We’re wearing the same thing?” Lucas questioned, also dressed in what was considered ‘nice attire.’