The Destiny of Violet and Luke

Chapter 15

Violet

I wake up the next morning, not gasping for the first time, but my head is throbbing and my dry throat burns with the need to hack. I start to get up to go to the bathroom, when I realize I’m weighed down by an arm. I roll over and find Luke sleeping beside me in the bed with his arm draped over me. Well, this is… interesting.

I sift through my memories, wincing at the protesting pain, and slowly it comes back to me in sharp images. I wince at one in particular, Luke’s fingers sliding inside me, but then as I remember how it felt, my stomach somersaults, and I remember how content I felt. I could try to blame it on the alcohol—it wouldn’t be the first time—but with the positive way my body responds to the memories, I’d only be bullshitting myself.

Lying beside him isn’t so bad, either, which is confusing to accept. All these years, never letting anyone get that close to me, never feeling anything for anyone on a deep level. I don’t know what to do with myself. Give in to the feeling or bail out.

Carefully, I lift his arm off me and duck out from under it. Then I climb over him and leave him sleeping in the room. I need to clear my head. Breathe. Think about what all this means and decide what I’m going to do when he wakes up.

I quietly pad across the kitchen, make myself a coffee, then cross the living room littered with garbage, chips, cards. I head for the sliding glass door that leads to the balcony, slide it open, and step out into the morning sunlight, a gentle breeze kissing my skin. I climb up onto the thick wooden railing with the cup of coffee in my hand and sit down, relaxing against the beams with my feet hanging over the edge. I stare down at the ground, not thinking about jumping for once, but thinking about the past.

I remember the first time I had to switch foster families. I was seven and didn’t understand why at first. Yeah, I knew I was acting a little crazy and I cried a lot, but people weren’t just supposed to give up kids, right? It’s not like I wanted a lot, just someone to help me feel safe from the darkness that was living inside me, the memories that haunted me, the loneliness.

The look on their faces as I packed my suitcase and headed out with my social worker was one I never would forget. They weren’t sad to see me going, they were relieved. They didn’t want me, not like my parents did. The painful, brutal, harsh reality of life struck me in the chest that day and nearly crippled me. From then on I refused to get attached to anyone, knowing eventually they’d hand me back. It was easier not to feel anything than to feel all the bad. And I’ve been doing it ever since, refusing to feel anything except the one thing I can control. My adrenaline rushes. So easy to start. To endure. Much better to feel than the harder stuff, like heartache.

I shut my eyes and let the sunlight spill over me as I sip the coffee, warm my skin, knowing that what happened with Luke last night wasn’t just an adrenaline rush. I felt stuff with him. Even drunk. I’ve been feeling stuff for him since the day he helped me get to class. He’s helped me out so much and never asked for anything in return. He makes me feel safe and sometimes when he looks at me, touches me, kisses me, it feels like he wants me. All of me. The cranky, erratic, Violet that falls out windows and kicks him in the head. Who relies on him a little too much, yet he never seems that bothered. He goes against my theory about people and I just cross my fingers that I’m not wrong.

I hear the sliding door glide open and I don’t open my eyes, holding my breath as I set the cup down on the railing.

“Violet, what are you doing out here?” Luke asks.

I keep my eyes sealed shut, wondering if he can remember last night or if he was too drunk. “Just thinking?”

“About what? Is it… Are you thinking about last night?” He seems nervous and I hear the door glide shut, so it’s just him, me, and the open ground below.

“You really want to know?” I ask softly.

“Yeah… I do,” he says, sounding strained and I open my eyes and twist around to look at him.

He looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, his skin pallid, almost green, and his clothes are wrinkled. He was sleeping with his head turned and his hair is flattened on one side, not the most attractive look, yet I can’t seem to look away from him.

“I’m thinking about my life.” I have to catch my breath because I just told the truth and the raw realness of it nearly smothers me.

He scans me over and then joins me on the railing, sitting next to me with his feet on the deck. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking a lot about mine, too.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because… you go against everything I’ve built… for myself.”

“Yeah, you, too,… for me…”

We stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, the sun beaming down on us as we refuse to look away, but not because we’re challenging each other. Because we’re trying to figure something out.

“Look about last night.” Luke speaks first, leaning against the beam and drawing his bare foot up onto the railing. “I think I should explain myself… I had no right to bang on that door like a fucking controlling, obsessed lunatic… I’m not usually like that.”

“Actually you kind of are,” I say, bringing the coffee cup up to my lips. “I’ve thought you were intense even before we officially met, Mr. Stoically Aloof.”

“Is that why you gave me that stupid nickname?” he asks, massaging the back of his neck.

My shoulders lift and fall as I shrug. “Maybe.” I set the coffee cup down.

He shakes his head, a small smile touching his lips. “You always find a way to get out of answering questions. It’s like you have a gift.”

“A gift for avoiding things I don’t want to deal with,” I say, combing my fingers through my tangled hair, which stinks of booze and pot.

His hand drops to his lap. “What don’t you want to deal with?”

“Everything… sometimes life is just too hard and seems pointless to deal with.”

Alarm fills his eyes as he misunderstands me. “Violet, I—”

I quickly lean over and cover his mouth with my hand. “Don’t think I’m suicidal. I already told you I didn’t jump out the window because of that… I’m just trying to tell you what’s bothering me in the only way I’m comfortable with. I’m not a fan of getting to know people or letting them into my life. Besides Luke, you’re pretty much the only person who I…” I have no idea how to finish that sentence because I’m still trying to figure out what Luke is to me. “You saw on the news… the thing about my parents. Well, after that… after they died, I pretty much didn’t have anyone. It was just me and an endless amount of foster families who were pretty much giving me a roof over my head but not much more than that. So I learned to take care of myself and it’s been that way for a long time. Just me and my life.”

“So you only take care of yourself,” he mumbles against my mouth, sounding surprisingly understanding.

I move my hand away from his mouth and slump back. “I had to. It gets hard to deal with, you know, especially when no one sticks around.” I’m not sure if I’m making any sense or what point I’m trying to get across. Maybe I’m trying to scare him away or just explain why I can’t keep getting involved with him.

“I actually get that,” he tells me. “My father bailed out on our family when I was young and now he wants to come back into my life and it’s hard.”

“I’ve had a lot of fathers,” I say, making air quotes. “And none of them wanted to come back into my life. You’re lucky yours does.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He stares at the parking lot out in front of us. “Violet, if you ever need to talk about stuff… I’m here.” I can tell it takes him a lot to say it, which makes it more meaningful.

“I’m not much for talking,” I say. “But thanks.”

“Still,” he turns his head toward me, “know the offer’s there.”

I nod, unsure how to react to what he’s saying—that I have someone. He wants to be my someone.“Okay.”

He extends his hand toward me and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “We kind of got off the subject of you and I, though, and I’d really like some answers about us, before I lose it… I came very close to losing it last night.”

“I know,” I say, curious what Luke looks like when he completely loses it. “I have issues with staying focused on tough subjects, though, and it seems you and I are a tough subject.”

He starts to smile but then frowns, looking flustered. “Violet, I don’t know what to do with us… with any of what happened… what’s happening.”

I frown in puzzlement. “Why do you have to do something with us at all? Why not just let things be?”

He blinks away from the parking lot and looks at me, eyes intense even for him. “Because of last night. I don’t just do that. Mess around and then cuddle for the whole damn night.”

“Yeah right,” I attempt to make a joke to avoid the heaviness between us. “I think we already established that you were a cuddler.”

He rolls his eyes, but grins. “Only you.”

I shield my eyes from the sun with my hand. “What does that mean?”

“It means only you have ever been able to get to me like this. Frustrate me and yet still make me want to be around you at the same time.” He scoots off the railing and stretches his arms above his head, his shirt riding up and giving me another glimpse of his abs. Then he lowers his arms and reaches his hand out toward me. “I think it’s time we did something that we’ve been needing to do since the first day we met.”

“You mean when I kicked you in the face?” I feel my stomach spin as I remember the first night I officially met him and how much things have changed since then, in both good and bad ways. “What did you have in mind?”

He restrains a laugh as I thread my fingers through his and he pulls me to his feet. “I’m going to take you out on a date.”

I choke on a laugh, but realize he’s being serious. “Oh my God, you’re not joking.”

“Of course I’m not joking.” He slides the glass door open. “I don’t joke.”

We enter the living, which has a pungent smell to it due to the garbage all over the place, and then he shuts the door. The air is musty, probably from everyone smoking, and there’s something that looks like wine spilled on the carpet.

“A date?” I ask as he steers me across the living room, kicking some cards and bottles out of the way. “Really? It seems a little formal don’t you think? Considering we’ve kissed, slept together, moved in together, and then all that other stuff you did to me last night.”

He presses his hand to his heart, still holding my hand so I touch his chest, too. He keeps it there as he opens the door to our bedroom. “Hey, don’t pretend you didn’t like it. In fact, I’m pretty sure you were the one who suggested it.”

“I did not,” I tell him. “But I did like it, which makes dating seem even harder. I mean, what are we supposed to do? Sit and eat dinner while we chat about our lives when everything between us is so intense?”

He wavers with uncertainty as he shuts the bedroom door behind us. “Well, we don’t know that much about each other.”

“Yeah, we don’t,” I agree. “But I generally like to keep things that way with people.”

He nods in agreement. “I know, so we can either keep going down the road we’re on and argue until we both lose it again, get drunk, and fool around. Or we can get to know each other and see where things go. It depends on what you want.”

“You’re letting me decide?” I ask, shocked.

He catches his breath for a split second. “Yeah… I think am…”

I swallow hard as I feel the pressure of making a decision. “What if I said no? Would you be upset?”

He sits down on the bed, tugging me down with him. “I’ll only answer that if you tell me the truth about how you’d feel if I said no. The door swings both ways,” he says and a lump forms in my throat as I nod. Now he’s the one swallowing hard. “The truth is… yeah, I would be upset. Even though you’re a pain in the ass, I like spending time with you and I want to keep doing it.”

“You’re kind of a pain in the ass, too.” I nudge him with my shoulder, the smashing weight on my chest easing up. “But I like that you’ve been around for the last few weeks.”

He lets out a laugh and then shakes his head. “Wow, that was fucking hard.”

I laugh, too, and it’s the strangest, most unfamiliar sound. He joins in and we just laugh for a moment. And it’s strange and weird and… well normal.

Then we fall down on the bed, lying side by side, our clasped hands squished between our bodies.

“So what do people generally do when they go out on dates?” I ask as he traces circles on my wrist with his fingers.

His brow arches as his fingers stop moving. “You’ve never been on one?”

I shake my head, pivoting on my hip to face him. “Nope. Never. I already told you I’ve never really had anyone in my life and going on dates would be letting people in.”

His mouth turns upward into a pleased smile that looks strange on his face, yet stunning. “That’s good to know. It means your expectations will be lower.”

I roll my eyes and playfully pinch his arm. “Hardy, har, har, you’re freaking—”

The brush of his lips silences me, my skin flooding with warmth the longer we remain together. He doesn’t try to shove his tongue down my throat, he just lays there, fully content in the simplicity of the moment and I shut my eyes, falling into an easy peace.

Finally, he pulls away. “See simple isn’t so bad, right?” he says, caressing my cheekbone with his finger.

I nod, agreeing, because at the moment, it’s not about the adrenaline. Or how dangerous I thought Luke was or still think he may be. It’s not about how intense he is. Or the escape he gives me. I’m with him because I want to be. I want to be here. And I promise to hold on to that thought all night.

Luke

I’m not even sure why I said it. I don’t date, yet at the same time I don’t keep chasing down the same girl, banging on doors because I think she’s fucking some other dude. Violet’s different. I’m different with her. And either I can keep feeling like I’m losing control or I can try to get back my structure and do things the normal, simple way by getting drunk, screwing, and bailing.

We make plans to go out and then I take shower, change into a clean shirt and jeans and clip on my leather band with “redemption” written on it. Then I spend the rest of the day cleaning the house, while she stays in the room, organizing her stuff. I try to keep it light on the drinks for three reasons: (1) I have to be sober enough to drive; (2) I want to be aware of everything that happens, feel it, live it, because if I’m going to do this, be with her, I’m going to make it worth it; and (3) I don’t want to have to make her check my insulin and help me with pills because I can’t go without my Jack Daniel’s for the night.

Although, I’m not going to just quit cold turkey. I stick to beers, and am only on my second one when Seth comes out around three or four o’clock, looking hungover, but at the same time amused.

“Have fun last night?” he asks with speculation in his voice as he gets a jug of orange juice out of the fridge.

“As much as I ever do,” I say, moving a box of books no one’s bothered to unpack from the floor to the coffee table.

“Yeah, but usually you go after girls who are easy.” He twists the cap off the orange juice. “You were going after the vixen last night.”

I tear the tape off the top of the box. “I really wish you’d stop calling her that.”

He takes a gulp and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “And you’re defending her.” He puts the lid back on and opens the fridge door. “If I didn’t know better, I’d guess you have feelings for the vixen.”

“Her name is Violet,” I say defensively as I open the box. “I don’t know exactly how I feel about Violet yet, but it’s enough that I don’t want you to call her that.”

That stuns him, his jaw dropping. “Jesus, you’re being serious.”

I fidget under his judging gaze as I remove a stack of books from a moving box. “Can we just drop it? I’m already confused enough and the last thing I want to do is talk about it.”

He puts the orange juice back in the fridge and shuts the door. “So what are you going to do about it?”

I drop a stack of books onto the table. “About what?”

“About your feelings for her.”

I shake my head, wishing he’d drop it. “I’m taking her on a date.”

I hear him chuckle under his breath. “Well, that’s normal of you.”

“Yeah, I thought I’d give it a try. See if I like it.”

“I’m sure you will,” he teases. He walks into the living room, raking his fingers through his hair. “Okay, so since I know for a fact that you’re an idiot when it comes to relationships and dating, I’m going to give you some advice. Take her somewhere nice and don’t try to fuck her in your truck.”

“I’m not a complete moron,” I say. “I get that.”

He leans against the entertainment center with his arms folded. “I know you’re not a moron, but I’ve witnessed over the last year how much you like to just screw any girl that walks and how most of them are very willing to give you exactly what you want. And normally, in a normal datelike situation, that’s not how things work. You have to put effort into it.”

I scratch the back of my neck. “How much effort?”

He hitches his thumb toward the bedroom door. “With her, probably a lot.”

“I thought you were so sure she was a slut,” I remind him.

“Well, I might have been a little overdramatic. And Greyson told me last night to lay off her because he thinks she’s vulnerable.” He raises his hands as he backs away. “I don’t get why and he wouldn’t tell me, but as a good boyfriend, I’m going to oblige.” He pauses at the doorway. “You should make a note of that.”

I roll my eyes. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He leaves me alone to unpack boxes and the more I do it, the more relaxed I feel about stepping out of my normal comfort zone tonight.

I continue to clean and organize the house until around five o’clock, stopping at the second beer, and by the time I knock on the door to see if Violet is ready, my head is alarmingly clear. Part of me is hoping she’ll bail on our date because I’m nervous and I hate it. Everything Seth said is running through my head like a train about to crash. I’m going against everything I’ve ever believed about relationships and I’m going into it with a girl that has problems. I’ve seen the vulnerable side of her that Seth was talking about, the helpless side that lives underneath her toughness, and getting involved with her means taking that on.

Can I do it?

When she opens the door, however, all thoughts of bailing out, terror, and confusion float from my head. “I was going to ask you if you were ready, but I think I have my answer.”

“I thought I’d put a little effort into getting ready, seeing how it’s my first date and all,” she smiles, her red-stained lips ridiculously sexy, along with her hair that runs down her bare shoulders in curls. Her green eyes are framed with black and the short, red and black dress that she’s wearing hugs her body so tightly I seriously almost shove her back onto the bed and skip straight to the end of the date. But that sort of defeats the purpose of keeping things simple.

So instead I offer her my elbow and, in response, she laughs.

“I thought you said you weren’t a gentleman,” she says, looping her arm through mine.

“You’re seriously wounding my ego,” I joke as I guide her out into the hallway, both of us in way too cheery of a mood for my taste, but I’m blaming mine on my momentary sobriety. “Here I am putting myself out there and you laugh at me.”

This only makes her laugh harder. “Put yourself out there. How brave of you.”

“It’s extremely brave of me, especially with what I’m going up against.” I open the door and walk outside, steering her down the stairs with me.

The sky is a pale pink as the sun sets behind the mountains. The air is warm, but I’m nervous and it’s strange. I don’t know what to do other than keep going forward, with her.

Deciding to keep the whole gentleman thing going, I open the door for her. This only makes her laugh more as she climbs in, not bothering to hold her dress down and I get a glimpse of her ass, barely covered by a thin piece of lacy fabric. Clenching my hand, I shut the door and hop into the truck, telling myself to calm down. That that’s not what tonight’s about. I start the truck and back up as she begins going through the tape collection in my truck, helping herself to my stuff. She completely ruins my organization, but I let her be, and it’s complicated how easy it is.

“ ‘My Fuck Tape.’ ” She reads the label with humor in her expression as she glances up at me and covers her mouth with her hands, laughing under her breath.

I grab the tape and toss it on the floor beneath my seat. “I should probably throw that one away.”

“Why?” She slouches back against the door. “Are you planning never to fuck again?”

I roll my tongue along my teeth, my restraint to not fuck her in the truck right now crumbling. “That all depends.”

“On what?”

Don’t say it. “On how tonight goes.”

“So are you saying that you’re only going to fuck me if things go well,” she says biting back a grin. “Or that if tonight doesn’t go well, you’ll go back to fucking every skank in a short dress.”

I shake my head, my body vibrating with the urge to pull the truck over, throw her down on the seat, and do what I’m good at. “You know, it’s saying things like that that made me think you weren’t a virgin.”

She rests her elbow on the seat back and rests her head against her hand, playing with her hair as she continues to chew on her bottom lip. “Maybe I only say them to get you all riled up so I can see that intense look in your eyes.”

I grip the steering wheel tighter as I turn my truck onto the busy street that runs alongside our apartment. Streetlights shine down on the sidewalks, houses, and trees that border the road. The shallow mountains are shadows in the distances and the city lights flicker in the heart of the town. I drive in that direction as I turn up the music, unable to think of a response to her blunt remark.

“Oh, did Mr. Stoically Aloof just give up?” She twirls a lock of her hair around her finger with the most beautiful real smile on her lips that I’ve ever seen and it makes letting her get the upper hand worth it.

“I guess I did,” I say submissively. “You should be proud of yourself.”

Her lips turn downward. “I’m not, though.”

I’m taken back. “I thought you liked winning.” I press on the brakes to slow down for a stoplight.

“I do for the most part,” she tells me with this flirty look in her eyes that makes me wonder how she’s managed to stay single for so long. Sure she may try to stay away from people, but it’s nearly impossible not to be drawn to her. “But I was kind of hoping you’d keep going and bring that intense look out.”

My cock starts to harden inside my jeans. I’m out of my element, but I dig my dusty flirting skills out, the ones I used when I first hooked up with girls.

“It’s going to take a whole lot more than a few teasing remarks to get that look to come out of me,” I say, turning my head toward her and flashing her a cocky grin. “A lot, lot more.”

She sucks her lip up between her teeth, suppressing a laugh. “Okay.” She drums her finger on her lip like she’s thinking deeply and then her eyes light up with an idea. She scoots across the seat and I wait in anticipation for whatever she’s going to do to win this thing she started.

She kneels up, sweeping her hair to the side, her chest at my eye level. “Light’s green,” she says with an arrogant smile.

I drive forward, trying to pay attention to the road, but as she leans her body toward mine I get distracted by her body heat. Then she slants her face toward my shoulder and her hair falls against my cheek. Just that alone makes my fingers tighten on the wheel. I hear the intakes of her breath as she leans down and plants a kiss on my neck. It’s soft, hardly a kiss, yet it make a sweltering need blast through my body.

“Violet, I…” I trail off as she starts sucking on my neck, tracing her tongue on my skin as her fingers slide across the front of my chest. I work to keep my eyes open, on the road, at the traffic in front of me, to the side of me, but then her fingers drift downward and encounter my dick and I’m seriously about lose it. “God damn it,” I curse and she starts to retreat. I swerve the truck to the side as she pulls back, her eyes wide as she peers over at the houses beside the curb where we’re parked.

“What are you doing?” she asks, looking back at me, her hair falling down across her heaving chest.

I shove the gearshift in park and reach for her waist. “All right, you win.” It’s all I say and then I lean over, cup the back of her head, and kiss her. So much for waiting until the end of the date.

She laughs against my lips and I shake my head, unable to pull my mouth back from hers. I keep kissing her until the sky completely blackens, until she ends up straddling my lap. I kiss her like she’s the only girl I’ve kissed before and she sort of is, at least with any meaning behind it. I don’t let my hands wander anywhere under her clothes, only over because I know once I cross that line, the date will be over. I won’t be able to stop myself… Jesus I don’t want to stop myself. But eventually, after my lips are numb, and the heat of her body blends with mine, we pull back.

Her arms are fastened around my neck and she peers into my eyes. She looks strangely alive at the moment and I feel strangely happy that I’m the one who put the look there.

“So where are you taking us on our date?” she asks with hilarity in her voice like the word “date” is the funniest word she’s ever said.

“It’s a surprise.” I can’t help but grin when she frowns in disappointment.

“Fine, but just for future reference, I don’t like surprises.” She climbs off my lap and sits down beside me in the middle of the bench seat.

She leans into me as I merge back onto the road, my heart constricting in my chest. I drive down the road lost in my thoughts on how she referred to our future and how much I actually liked it.

Violet

We pick up fast food from this little dive place at the edge of the town that has the best burger, then Luke drives up to the mountains and parks his truck. At first I think he brought us here because he wants to make out more, which seems like a wonderful idea to me, especially since making out in the truck was more thrilling than standing on the edge of the cliff, debating how easy it’d be to tip forward and fall to the jagged rocks below. But then he tells me he wants to hike up a little ways, so I follow him out into the darkness, carrying our take-out bag, while he carries a flashlight from the glove box.

“You know, if I would’ve known you were taking me on a hike, I wouldn’t have worn a dress,” I say, thankful I decided against the heels and opted for my boots.

His boots scuff against the dirt as he sweeps the flashlight across the crooked path in front of us, peering over his shoulder at me. “Personally, I like the dress.”

“I’m sure you do,” I mutter with a smile. I’d put the dress on because I knew he’d like it. If that’s one thing I’m good it at, it’s knowing what guys like.

He smiles over his shoulder and reaches back to take my hand. I stumble forward as he hauls me up to him, then we hike together up the path. It’s late, the sky charcoal dusted with glittering stars. The moon is full and the air chilly, making me wish I’d brought my jacket. We walk silently to the top of the hill where the view of spreads out in front of us. I can see the highway and the city to my side, the lights on the houses making them seem so far away I feel like I’m flying. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he’d brought me here on purpose, because he knew the height and drop-off in front of us would make me feel comfortable and at peace.

Luke lets go of my hand and situates himself on the rock, positioning the flashlight on the ground so it’s spotlighting the sky. I drop down beside him, set the fast-food bag down between us, and stretch my legs out, crossing them at the ankles.

“So is this what a normal first date goes like?” I ask, opening the bag.

He rests back on his hands, staring out at the view. “Honestly, probably not. Most people probably go to the movies or to dinner, but this seemed more fitting for us.”

I grab a fry from out of the bag and plop it into my mouth. “Why? Because we’re weird and dark and out of the ordinary?”

He sits up and rummages through the bag, taking out a handful of fries. “Yeah, pretty much.”

I grab my burger out of the bag and unwrap it. “But what makes you so weird and dark and out of the ordinary, Luke Price?”

He flips the leather band on his wrist with his finger. “Lots of stuff.”

I take a cup of ranch out of the bag and peel the top off. “Why do you always wear that band around your wrist?”

He raises his arm up in front of him, studying it in the light. “Because my sister gave it to me right before she died.”

I start choking on my fry. My nostrils burn as ranch gets in them. “She died?” I cough with my hands pressed to my chest.

He twists his head in my direction. It’s dark so I can’t see anything but the outline of his face and his eyes look like two black holes, but I can picture the intensity in them. “She threw herself off a roof when I was twelve.”

I have a heartbreaking epiphany. “That’s why you were so worried about me when you saw me jump out the window.”

He bobs his head up and down, nodding. “That and the fact that you look so detached all the time,” he says and I suck in a startled breath as I realize just how much he’s seen of me and how we have one more thing in common. Death of a loved one. He instantly reaches over and his fingers encircle my wrist. “Violet, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so blunt… I don’t even know why I said it.”

“It’s okay.” I exhale, telling myself that I’m not going to go down that road tonight. That I’m going to keep it together, no matter what it takes. “I’m sorry. I’m seriously overacting.” In the snap of a finger, I manage to sound calm.

His fingers dig into my wrist, right above my racing pulse. “No, you’re not.” It’s like he understands me, even though he hardly knows anything about me.

I nod my head. “Okay, but I’m over it. I promise.”

He holds on to me a little longer and then releases me. I eat my burger and he eats his chicken sandwich in silence and it’s the most comfortable silence I’ve ever lived in. After we’re done, we ball up our garbage and pile it in the bag. Then he moves it aside so we can scoot closer, our shoulders touching.

“What was your life like before you met me?” I ask, relaxing back on my palms.

He tilts his head to the side, looking at me. “A lot less complicated,” he admits.

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“It’s a complicated thing,” he says and then sighs heavily. “I had this system before you came along and it was working for me, but now that system is gone… With you… you make me feel like I’m falling into this out of control world full of craziness.”

I frown. “You make me sound so insane.”

“No, it’s not like that.” He rakes his hand through his hair, letting out a grunting exhale as he sits up. “God, this is coming out sounding so weird.”

“That’s okay,” I tell him. “Weird is okay with me and there’s no one else around.”

I feel him smile through the dark. “See it’s things like that that make me just want to stay here with you. Because whatever I say never fazes you.”

“We could just sit here in the dark,” I say, trying not to think about the many times I sat in the dark by myself. “The dark can be comfortable.”

“Yeah, we could do that…” He trails off and I feel the air temperature rise as he leans into me. “Do you want to do that? Just sit in the dark with me.”

“Maybe…” I trail off as his lips connect with mine. He tastes different than usual, less smoky and tasting of tequila; instead he tastes salty from the French fries. I can taste the passion of the kiss and heat pools in my stomach. I clutch his shoulders as he pushes his weight into me and forces me down on my back. My head brushes the ground below and dirt gets in my hair as our legs tangle together and he barely supports his weight above me.

He kisses me slowly this time, more deliberately than he usually does. It’s like he’s calculating each movement, each taste, each breath as his hands knot through my hair. He gently tips my head back so his tongue can explore my mouth more thoroughly, gradually, slowly. Jesus, he’s driving my body mad. I can’t think straight, my nails jabbing into his shoulder blades, his lower back, his sides, anything that I can get a hold of as my body becomes more and more impatient.

Then he’s pulling away again, stroking my cheek with his finger, his other hand playing with my hair. “This is nice.”

“You’re starting to sound like a softy,” I say, breathless.

“Didn’t you accuse me of being a softy once?” He continues to play with my hair.

“I did, but I didn’t really mean it.”

“Well, maybe you were right all along.”

“Maybe I was.”

He continues to comb his fingers through my hair, his body positioned over me, and I get so comfortable I almost fall asleep in his arms, right there up on a rock. Then he lifts his weight off me and the cold seeps into my body, waking me right back up. He laces his fingers through mine as he pulls me to his feet with him.

“Where we going now?” I ask, dusting the dirt off the back of my leg.

He bends down and grabs the garbage. “How about home?”

Home. Such a strange word, since nowhere has ever really felt like home to me. “Yeah, home sounds nice.”

The rest of the drive home we talk about mundane things, like what his favorite food is: tacos, which I already kind of figured out, since it’s his hangover food and he likes to drink. I tell him what mine is: chocolate chip cookies, the kind my mom used to make. It surprises me that I talk to him about my mom, just as much as it surprises him. Our entire conversation is so boring and normal, but the thing is I actually like it and I start to wonder if I could actually live a boring, normal, non-adrenaline-junkie life.

When he parks the truck at our apartment complex, it’s still early, but Luke says we can continue our date in the house. Then he starts kissing me in the truck before we can even get out. Our mouths and hands explore each other’s body until it gets too hot and then we get out and head inside. It’s the perfect date, and I’m seriously reconsidering my whole theory on life, when I spot a guy sitting at the bottom of the steps that lead up to our apartment.

“You have got to be kidding me.” I let go of Luke’s hand as I realize who the guy is. I leave a shocked Luke behind as I storm over to the steps.

Stan Walice looks up from his notebook, looking nervous and tense. “Please just calm down. I just want to talk to you for a minute.”

“Do I need to get a restraining order?” I ask as I arrive at the foot of the stairway.

He rises to his feet and tucks his notebook and pen into his front pocket. He’s wearing wrinkled gray pants, old sneakers, and a red polo shirt, along with square-framed glasses. “Calm down. I just want to ask you some questions.” His glasses start to slip down the brim of his nose and he pushes them up with his finger.

“I’m pretty sure I made it clear I’m not going to do that,” I say as Luke steps up beside me.

“Who the fuck is this?” Luke says as his hand touches the small of my back, slightly calming me, but my insides still burn.

Stan’s eyes dart to him, I’m sure comparing his out-of-shape body to Luke’s solid, tattooed body. “I just want to ask her a few questions about her parents.”

“And I already told you to go fuck yourself,” I say, not with anger but with a silent plea in my voice. “Seriously, what is with reporters and being obsessed and determined to harass people?”

“I really need this story,” Stan says, raking his fingers through his hair. “My job’s on the line.”

“She says she doesn’t want to talk to you,” Luke steps forward, positioning himself in front of me, protecting me. “So take the hint and fucking get the hell out of here before I have to beat your ass,” Luke says and then he reaches back and grabs hold of my hand. As much as I would love to see him beat Stan’s ass, I also remember that unlike when he fought with Preston and the guys at the strip club, there will probably be consequences this time, so I squeeze his hand and hold on to him.

Stan shakes his head, panic flooding his eyes as he skitters to the side so I can see him. “Look, I know I’ve probably been going about this wrong, but I really need this story or the paper’s going to let me go. I need something really good.”

“Go find a story that’s easier to get, then,” I tell him, inching forward so I’m standing beside Luke. “Don’t chase me down when I don’t want to talk about my past.”

“The easy ones are the ones no one wants to hear,” he says. “Girl who finds her parents murdered and stays in that house for twenty-four hours.” He moves his hand across the air, like some reporter in an old movie, making a headline. “Now that’s a story. I can only imagine the things in your head… the stuff you saw… And if people knew about it, maybe it’d help finally catch the killers.”

Luke’s body goes rigid as flames flash through my body. He just told Luke my secret, the one that everyone wants to run away from once they know. Out of nowhere, I lunge for Stan. Luke’s hands slips from mine as I raise my fist, preparing to crash it into Stan’s face. I haven’t felt this much fury in a long time and usually I’d find another way to deal with it, but right now all I want to do is hit Stan. Ram my fist into him. Watch his nose bleed. Watch him hurt like I know I’m going to hurt in just a few minutes.

Somehow, Luke manages to get his arms around my waist and he holds me back before I actually make contact.

“Let me go!” I protest, squirming. “I’m going to kick his ass.”

“No, you’re not going to.” He hugs me tighter as I struggle to get air into my lungs. I need to get away from him—need to breathe. I need to run, beat Stan, do anything at all beside feel what’s prickling up inside me. My parents. Luke knows. I’m fucked up. He knows now what lies beneath my skin of steel. He’s not going to want to be with me anymore.

I push against him wriggling in his arms as he nearly crushes me against his chest. “Just breathe,” he whispers in my ear, smoothing his hand on the back of my head.

I swear to God it’s like he knows what’s going on inside my body, like he’s in tune with it. “I can’t,” I choke. “I hate him.”

“Just try.”

I shut my eyes and block out everything else besides getting air into my lungs. I can hear his heart beating steadily, and I listen to it as I try to get my own to match it.

“Get the hell out of here,” Luke growls at Stan, his chest rumbling.

“I’ve been trying really hard to talk to her,” Stan says. “If she just would, then we could get this over with.”

“If you don’t walk away, I’m going to let her go and beat your ass myself,” Luke says calmly. “So take the opportunity to walk away now.”

“You can’t threaten me,” Stan says. “I’ll call the cops.”

“Does it look like I give a shit about the cops?” Luke replies. “Now get the hell away from her.” He enunciates each word to get his point across. Stan mutters something about taking his card and Luke adds, “If you try to contact her again, you won’t be walking away.”

Moments go by, it feels like days, before either of us move or speak again. I’m the first one to pull away, and he releases me, giving me space. Luke watches me as I search around the yard for something that will make it easier to deal with what just happened, but ultimately my gaze travels back to Luke.

“So now you know,” I say and blow out a loud, defeated breath. I search for the disgust in Luke’s eyes, the look everyone has when they find out, but his eyes look black against the night, the porch lights glaring behind him.

The longer the silence goes on the more I feel like I’m going to cry. Tears sting at my eyes as I battle not to let them out, wanting to be that tough girl again, the one that doesn’t give a shit. I need her. She makes everything okay, even when it’s not.

“I didn’t know reporters were like that,” Luke finally says quietly as he wraps his fingers around my arm. “He seems crazy and intense.”

“Unfortunately a lot of them are intense,” I reply, biting on my fingernails, desperately wishing I could read what he was thinking. “But I’ve never met one so obsessed like that… he’s been calling me for weeks and he showed up at my work.”

His eyes widen. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he asks and I don’t even bother to answer. “You should have said something.”

“Why? So I could tell you my sad story and you could look at me like you are right now.”

“You can’t even see my face so you can’t see how I look.”

“I know the look, though. It’s the one everyone has when they hear about me. The girl who found her parents dead and then sat in the house with their bodies for a day. The fucked-up girl that scares the shit out of people.” If he wasn’t planning on ditching me before, I’m sure he is now.

His fingers spasm against my arm as he turns us slightly so I can see his face and there’s nothing there but sympathy and maybe even understanding. “Everyone has their dark past. I have mine and, trust me, I’d be a fucking hypocrite if I judged you for anything you did. I’ve done plenty of messed-up shit that most people wouldn’t understand.”

I slip my hand out of his and hug my arms around my waist, wishing I could fold myself into myself, hide behind the steel walls that have been shrinking over the last few weeks. “Like what?” I honestly don’t expect him to answer me so when he takes a deep breath, preparing to speak, my pulses stills.

“How about shooting your mom up with heroin when you were eight because she hated needles and so she made you do it for her?” he utters softly and I can tell he doesn’t want to say it, but it’s like his lips forced him to do it.

I don’t know how to react. If I should react. If I should hug him. Run from him. What I should do. Thankfully, he reacts for me, his fingers leaving my arm and circling around my waist.

“Do I scare the shit out of you now?” he asks and I shake my head. “And your past doesn’t scare the shit out of me,” he says. “Now you do, but for entirely different reasons. Ones that have more to do with me and how you make me feel.”

I nod, the tears drying as he leans down to gently kiss me. And it’s strange, but in a good way, because for a moment all the bad that just happened doesn’t exist. I don’t feel it crushing against my chest. Luke’s the first person that’s ever been able to lift some of the weight off me and it makes me want to cling to him as long as I can. So when he picks me up and carries me into the house, I let him. Just like I let him undress me. Allow him to pull my shirt off and slip it over my head, so I’m surrounded in the scent of him. I let him lay me back on the pillow and climb into bed with me. Then we fall asleep. Together.