Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Mixed Messages
Fireworks are going off above us. The world around me is exploding in brilliant bursts of color and light, and every cell in my body matches it in strides. Nothing in life could ever be that bad again because I’m kissing Luke.
Every imagined scenario of this moment pales in comparison to the real deal.
I’ve heard people talk about being able to feel a spark in a kiss.
I even believed—obviously, incorrectly—that I had experienced it before with a few girlfriends.
Now, I suddenly understand what everyone was talking about when they say this kind of kiss is magical, and I have to agree.
It’s incredible. Nothing could have prepared me for the feeling of every fiber of my being lighting up as if I’ve been plugged into the universe.
It’s fire and oil, a never-ending combustion of powerful sensations.
And to have Luke kissing me back, his lips desperate upon mine… It’s a dream come true. I can sense his eagerness, the way he melts into me like he’s found a taste of heaven. I could die of happiness before the night ends.
But when I reach up to hold his face in my hand, wanting to pull him in deeper, Luke suddenly gasps like he’s been burned by my touch.
One minute, we’re in the middle of pure bliss, and the next, Luke is pulling away from me, leaving me blinking with confusion in a dazed state of bewilderment.
His chest heaves with sharp, jagged breaths, and he stares at me with wide eyes, a pained expression on his face.
“What the fuck are you doing, Ethan?” he snaps, and all at once, my heart stops.
He’s angry? Wait, it’s more than that. He’s furious.
His face is contorted in a mask of open anguish, and the way he’s looking at me rips my heart open.
Like I’ve just hurt him in the most unimaginable way possible.
It sends a sharp pain to my chest, almost as if it’s been driven through with a spear.
Wait. No, no, no, no, no. Did I get this wrong? Is it possible I misread his signs? I thought we were on the same page. He was just as into it, wasn’t he? I can’t be that drunk that I imagined the whole thing…
I must have been wrong. Why else would Luke be pushing me away?
“I…” I start, but how am I supposed to finish that sentence? I’m in a state of shock.
It seems Luke doesn’t want a real answer anyway.
He lets out a shaky breath and puts his hand to his lips before he picks himself up from the ground, plucking his flashlight from the sand.
Turning on his heel, he storms off without another word or a backward glance, leaving me sitting on the beach like another piece of driftwood washed up on the shore.
My mind is reeling as I watch him go, stuck between confusion and deep, humiliating shame to think I’ve just crossed an unhealable boundary.
I replay the kiss in my head over and over again, the images jumping back and forth like a broken record, trying to pinpoint where everything went wrong, but it doesn’t make sense.
I’m missing something, but I don’t know what.
I let out a strangled scream of frustration and fling myself back on the sand, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes as I blink back the sharp sting of tears threatening to surface.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! The one thing I was most afraid of happening came true.
Luke not only rejected me but somehow hates me now, too. I just had to kiss him, didn’t I?
But oh god, that kiss. I wasn’t expecting it to feel like that! Apparently, I was the only one who experienced the mind-blowing reaction, and the realization stings worse than anything I could have imagined.
Of course, it’s my fucking luck. I not only have the best kiss of my entire life, but it’s also the worst mistake I’ve ever made. Typical.
I don’t want to go back to camp now. How can I face Luke again after this? Maybe if I stay out here all night, I can avoid the awkwardness of ever having to speak to him again.
I wish a hole would appear on the beach and suck me into oblivion.
Or I could wait for a bear to find me and drag me off.
That would get me out of having to deal with this.
At least being a meal for a wild animal would be a way to atone for being such a fucking idiot, and I could go out doing something worthwhile for another creature.
Despite my intense desire to pass away from shame, the sand is ice-cold on my back, and I’m starting to shiver without my sweater the longer I stay out here, adding insult to injury as I remember what happened after I gave it away.
As embarrassed as I am, freezing to death doesn’t sound appealing.
Besides, if Marcus knew I chose to stay out here and let the cold night air do me in, he’d be pissed.
At least if a bear ate me, he could be mad at the bear instead.
Groaning, I pick myself up from the beach and brush the sand off my jeans. It only takes a few minutes of searching to locate my discarded flashlight, before I make the trek back up the shoreline.
Luke is probably asleep by now, so I’m quiet as I unzip the tent door.
Except, when I look at the air mattress, I’m surprised to see he isn’t there.
Did he go to the bathroom, or is he roaming around somewhere, blowing off steam?
I don’t like the thought of that this late at night in bear country, but what am I supposed to do about it?
Stepping further into the tent, I suddenly trip over something that lets out a grunt, and I freeze.
I turn the flashlight's beam down to my feet and see Luke lying on the floor with his pillow and sleeping bag.
He holds his hand in front of his face to block out the light, and I quickly move it away to get it out of his eyes before turning it off.
“Why are you on the ground?” I ask, frowning. Was he too drunk to climb into bed? Or did he fall off of it?
Luke doesn’t respond. He just rolls onto his side and pulls the blanket over his head, shutting me out. I’m so stunned that it takes my brain a second to catch up, but when it does, I feel a pang of hurt through my already bruised ego.
Oh. Luke’s sleeping there intentionally.
He doesn’t want to share the bed anymore after what happened.
It’s a clear statement that there’s no chance in hell he can forgive me, and when I think back to my worries about this exact scenario in my head, it makes perfect sense.
All my fears are coming true, everything we’ve built up over the last few weeks unraveling before my eyes.
We aren’t going to be able to move past this, and it’s all my fault.
“Are you serious right now?” I demand, unable to keep the hurt from my voice.
Luke still doesn’t say anything, and I swallow the sudden lump in my throat.
So, this is how he wants to play it. I can’t stop the anger that suddenly bubbles to the surface, and I let out a shaky breath, desperately trying to dispel these feelings with a grounding breath.
I move over to my bag and rifle through it for my other sweatshirt, hoping to calm the roiling maelstrom of resentment in my chest, but it doesn’t seem to work.
“You’re going to freeze on the ground like that,” I say. It comes out a little snarky.
“I’m fine,” Luke finally snaps back, the tone sharp and vicious, driving the knife point deeper into my chest.
I look back at him with disbelief, though it’s too dark to see his face. “You know, you don’t have to act like this. You can sleep on the bed. It’s not like I’m going to do anything to you.”
He laughs, but this time, it’s mean. How could something so attractive suddenly be so ugly? My cheeks heat as my blood boils.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Luke,” I snap sharply. “I get it, okay? You made your point loud and clear. You don’t have to be a fucking asshole about it. It’s done, so just get over it.”
Luke scoffs and finally sits up. “You don’t get to be angry about this,” he hisses.
My jaw drops. I don’t get to be angry? Now I’m furious. I let out a harsh laugh, shaking my head.
“Fucking unbelievable. You know what, Luke? You’re a grown-ass man. You can do whatever the fuck you want, and I don’t give a shit anymore, okay? Sleep on the fucking ground if it makes you feel better.”
“Why are you upset?” Luke balks.
“Work it out for yourself.”
“Ethan,” he replies obstinately, maybe even slightly confused. But I don’t care. I shake my head and turn away, my jaw clenching. It’s too late for explanations. I’m pissed and hurt, and nothing he can say will make any of this better.
“I’m done talking,” I say, cursing the way my voice wavers. Fuck. I don’t want to break down about this, not in front of the man who’s turned out to be someone I can’t trust with that kind of emotional vulnerability. “I’m going to bed. Do whatever you want.”
Throwing on my sweatshirt, I pull back the covers on the air mattress, crawling into bed.
I lie facing the tent wall with my back to Luke and close my eyes, trying to block him out and hating how my whole body feels like it’s breaking.
I don’t know how everything went so wrong so quickly.
And somehow, it just keeps getting worse.
It’s enough to make me wish Luke had never shown up in my life. God, I loathe myself for even thinking that. I’m so fucking tired, and all I want to do is sleep so I can forget this night ever happened.
I can hear Luke sigh softly from his spot near the foot of the bed, but I ignore him.
The tent goes quiet for a long while after that until I assume Luke must have fallen asleep.
Then I hear the shuffling of his sleeping bag as he gets up from the floor, tossing his things up on the bed.
I’m sure he’s realized I was right about the cold.
The mattress dips slightly under his weight as Luke sits down, but I keep my eyes closed and don’t move.
“Ethan? Are you awake?” he asks quietly, but I don’t respond. What’s the point?
He sighs again, but doesn’t say anything else as he lies down, settling under the covers beside me.
It’s infuriating how badly I want to turn around and face him, but I don’t.
Instead, I listen to the sound of his breathing mixed with the chirping crickets outside and fail to find any solace in sleep.
This is going to be a long night.