"Mom, I'm heading out. Whatever it is, can we talk about it tomorrow?" Lucas said as he adjusted his leather jacket, his hand already on the doorframe. His tone was casual, but his impatience was clear.
"No way!" Helen Zeller's sharp reply cut through the air like a whip. She stood up, motioning firmly for Lucas to sit down next to Claire. Her no-nonsense demeanor left no room for argument. "This is important, and it needs both of you—now."
"Important, huh?" Lucas echoed skeptically, his dark brows quirking upward. He hesitated, then turned his gaze to Claire Grace, who sat perched on the edge of the sofa. She looked like she wanted to disappear into the cushions—nervous, small, and fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.
Leaning closer, Lucas lowered his voice, a teasing edge creeping in. "Snail Girl, did you tell my mom something?"
The warmth of his breath brushed against Claire's cheek, and her fingers froze mid-fidget. Her heart pounded as if trying to escape from her chest.
"No, I didn't say anything," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. She shifted awkwardly, attempting to inch away from him, her cheeks flushing a shade of pink that only deepened as his smirk widened.
Lucas tilted his head, intrigued by her response. His sharp green eyes gleamed with mischief. *Is she... trembling? She's seriously that uncomfortable around me?*
Something about her flustered reaction sparked a mischievous impulse in him. Without thinking, he leaned in further, bridging the small space she had created between them. His grin turned almost predatory, but not unkindly. "Snail Girl," he murmured, his voice laced with amusement, "any guesses on what Mom wants to discuss with us?"
The proximity was unbearable. His closeness set off every alarm in Claire's head, but her brain refused to cooperate with her body. *What is he doing?* Her instinct to retreat battled with the sofa's unyielding backrest. Then, as if it couldn't get worse, she felt his arm casually drape over her shoulder, effectively trapping her.
Claire's eyes darted up to meet his. The smug look on his face was infuriating. *Oh, so this is a game to him, huh?* she thought. Her initial panic subsided, replaced by a spark of indignation.
Determined not to let him win, Claire straightened in her seat and angled herself slightly. With a carefully calculated move, she "accidentally" jabbed her elbow into his chest. Hard.
"Oof," Lucas grunted softly, startled. His smirk faltered for a split second.
Feigning innocence, Claire gave him her sweetest, most disarming smile. "I'm guessing whatever Mom has to say is more about you than me, right, Mr. Zeller?"
Lucas blinked, caught off guard by her unexpected boldness. He opened his mouth to respond, but his mother's laughter filled the room before he could.
"Oh my, you two are already getting along so well!" Helen exclaimed, her voice tinged with delight. "That makes this so much easier to say."
Lucas turned to his mother, his expression shifting into one of suspicion. "Mom, what exactly is this *important thing* you need to say?"
Helen's face lit up with a beaming smile, her hands clasped together as though she were delivering the happiest news in the world. "Your father and I talked it over, and we decided—" she paused for dramatic effect, her eyes darting between Lucas and Claire, "you two should get married… tomorrow."
For a moment, there was complete silence. Then:
"*Married?!*"
"*Married?!*"
Lucas and Claire's voices overlapped, a chorus of shock and disbelief that echoed through the room.
Lucas shot to his feet, his previously calm demeanor shattered. "Mom, are you serious right now? What century are we even living in?! People don't just get told to marry someone like it's the 1800s!" His voice grew louder, tinged with frustration.
Claire, meanwhile, looked like she had forgotten how to breathe. Her wide eyes darted between Helen and Lucas, her hands gripping the edge of the sofa for support. She managed to squeak out, "Mrs. Zeller, I—I think there's been some kind of mistake…"
Helen remained unbothered, waving a hand dismissively at their protests. "Now, now, don't be so dramatic. It's not as sudden as it sounds. We've been thinking about this for a while. You're both such a good match—perfect, really! It makes sense to make it official."
"Perfect?!" Lucas exclaimed, his tone incredulous. "Mom, we can't even sit next to each other without someone throwing an elbow!" He gestured wildly at Claire, who flushed again but remained seated, still too stunned to fully process the situation.
Helen chuckled. "A little spark is a good thing! It keeps things interesting."
Lucas turned his gaze to Claire, his expression a mix of exasperation and disbelief. "Do you have any idea how to get through to her?" he asked, as though the two of them were suddenly on the same side.
Claire blinked at him, still struggling to find words. "I… I don't even know how this conversation is happening," she said weakly.
Helen, unfazed, rose from her seat with a satisfied smile. "Well, that settles it, then. I'll take care of all the arrangements. You two can thank me later."
As she swept out of the room, humming to herself, Lucas and Claire were left sitting in stunned silence. Finally, Lucas let out a long sigh, raking a hand through his hair.
"This has to be a joke," he muttered.
Claire, still pale, glanced at him nervously. "Do… do you think she's serious?"
"Oh, she's serious," Lucas said, his voice grim. Then his lips twitched, and a small, almost reluctant smile formed. "But don't worry, Snail Girl. If we're going down, we'll go down fighting."
Claire managed a faint smile in return, though her hands still trembled. *Fighting, huh?* She had no idea what tomorrow would bring, but one thing was clear: this prank of a situation was far from over.