Chapter 12
Annie
“What could you possibly need from me?” Luke asks as he follows me into the entrance of the apartment complex. He is in his usual attire of a white Henley and jeans, and his blonde hair seems even more golden with the sun coming through the glass door. I turn around to find his blue eyes on me, their usual sparkle shining bright, and I have to turn forward so I don’t trip over my feet at the sight of that smile.
“I’m glad you asked,” I counter over my shoulder, brushing my hair behind me as we walk down the hallway to his apartment. “We never got to finish our conversation from last night.”
“You’re right,” Luke says as I pull out my set of keys to his place and go to unlock the door. “I wasn’t even halfway done kissing you.”
My hands freeze, and my keychain falls out of my hand. My cheeks are already hot from my walk with Rosie, and I do not blush—especially because of Luke—but I feel all the blood in my body rush to my face.
Luke bends down to pick up my keys, finishing the job of unlocking the door for us, and it takes me a moment to form any words .
It’s not like I haven’t thought of the kiss, for much longer than I’d like to admit, but it was definitely not the “conversation” I was talking about.
I could barely sleep last night after closing the door to the guest bedroom.
Half of me wanted to open the door right back up and finish what I started. The other half of me wanted to pack up all my shit and leave without a trace.
Again .
Kissing Luke was like a breath of fresh air, and it was something I could very well become addicted to—which is exactly why it can never happen again.
Even if I wanted to give Luke and me another chance—which I don’t—there is way too much to trudge up from a place buried deep inside of me for that to be able to happen.
Luke steps around me to walk into the apartment, and I resist the urge to slap my hand across my forehead.
I am not about to let one kiss change anything.
“Well, I was done kissing you.” I pour my fake confidence into my delivery and hope Luke didn’t notice how long it took for me to come up with a response—and not a very good one.
Before he can say anything else, I get our conversation back on track. “I meant the conversation before we found out the baby was coming.”
Luke takes Rosie’s leash off and hangs it up by the door. We both follow her into the living room, sitting on either side of her when she jumps up and plops down in the middle of the couch.
Once again playing the part of a perfect buffer.
I’m still in my red workout set from my walk, a sports bra and biker shorts, and I usually have to throw on a sweatshirt when I get back because of how cold Luke keeps the temperature in here. But for some reason I don’t care to admit, I find myself needing to throw my hair up in a ponytail because I can’t get my skin to cool.
“So you want to talk more about how you were jealous?” he says matter-of-factly, but the smirk on his lips gives him away. I feel the tips of my ears burn, reaching behind me to grab a pillow to chuck at him so he won’t notice.
Why did I ever think this conversation was going to be easy?
He lets the pillow hit him, and I wish I threw it harder.
“First of all, bartender, I was not jealous. I told you I just felt bad for the new girl who had to spend every night of the week with you. Second of all, I have no reason to be jealous. She’s just some girl you work with.”
I regret the words almost instantly, not liking how they sound outside my head. Just some girl you work with? I sound exactly like a jealous girlfriend.
“Woah, careful there, honey. You’re sounding like you might like me a little bit.”
The smirk on his face makes me want to bite his lip off. “You wish,” I argue, ignoring the term of endearment. I almost resort to sticking my tongue out, but I think it would turn him on.
He doesn’t miss a beat. “More than you know.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
I close my eyes and let out an exhale because this man is insufferable, and my patience is running thin.
“I wanted to talk about my living situation, but it seems like I might not have to, considering I will probably kill you before our month is up and can just take your apartment from your cold, dead hands.”
“You talking about how you want to kill me all the time doesn’t have the effect you think it does. ”
I shake my head. “I’m ignoring that. Not because I don’t have anything to say but because I think you’ll like it too much.”
“Aw, Annie girl. You know me too well,” he flirts, throwing my words from earlier back at me.
I resist the urge to outwardly groan. “Like I was saying last night,” I continue, needing to remember why I am willingly sitting on the couch with Luke, alone in our— his —apartment, suffering through his flirting. “I don’t think I want to go back to my old complex. Whether the apartment is found negligent for the break-in or not, it just all put a bad taste in my mouth about it.”
Luke nods, finally staying quiet, allowing me to go on.
Good boy.
“And I was thinking,” I say, stretching out the words, trying to not avoid looking at his face even though I’m 99% sure his eyes on me are what is making it feel so hot in here. “Since you—”
“You can stay here,” he interrupts, and I momentarily forget what I was about to say.
“No, I mean—” I try, but he keeps talking before I can get the words out.
“You can stay however long you need.”
Does he do this on purpose? Make it so hard to pull away.
“No, Luke. That’s not what I meant. I thought because you’re moving back home, I could take this place.”
All the color from his face drains, and I instantly want to take back the words.
A few moments pass before he finally says, “I don’t know if I’m moving back home.” The words are barely above a whisper. It sounds like he doesn’t want anyone to hear him, even though we are the only two people here, and my stomach knots .
“What are you talking about?” I ask, my volume matching his. As if whispering these words will nullify the conversation, make it so it doesn’t count. Towards what? I don’t know. Count towards me actually caring about what Luke wants to do with his life?
“I was talking to Bennett and Jack this morning, and I don’t know if I want to be a lawyer.”
Luke must expect me to be more surprised by this sentiment, but my face doesn’t change.
I’m not even the smallest bit surprised.
I knew from the moment he told me he wasn’t taking that hockey scholarship our senior year of high school, the one he worked his ass off for, that it wasn’t the decision he wanted to make.
Both Luke and I come from families that didn’t want us, and I think it’s part of the reason we held so tightly to each other growing up.
His “father” took him in for the sole purpose of saving face, but I think it was more than that. I think Mr. Owens said Luke was his as a way to hurt his wife and his brother for their affair.
My parents didn’t want a child.
Just like Luke, my parents didn’t plan on having me, but I didn’t find out when I was nine like he did. I was told every day for as long as I can remember that my mom and dad didn’t want me.
That I ruined their lives, their relationship, their everything .
So I tried to become invisible at home, at school, anywhere. The people who were supposed to love me the most in this world are the ones who wished I was never born.
I grew up wondering why they even decided to have me to begin with. Then, the bullying started in high school, and I wished they never did.
My mom was my first bully, and, somehow, along the way, she taught me how to be the perfect target for my next ones.
There was one person who saw me, no matter how hard I tried to fall into the background, and that person is sitting here telling me his truth as if I didn’t know him well enough to know it was a lie to begin with.
Luke was never meant to be invisible. It isn’t who he is. So when his father finally saw him, I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist, even if it meant giving up what he wanted.
“Okay,” I say, stretching out the word. “So don’t be one.”
Luke throws his hands up in the air before using them to push his hair back. “Why does everyone make it sound so easy?” he asks looking up towards the ceiling, but I stay silent. “Nevermind,” he says, exasperated, shaking the hair he just pushed away back in his face. “That doesn’t matter. I’m sorry you can’t take this place just because I have my own shit to figure out.”
Why do I want to tell him that there is nothing to be sorry for?
That I’m here for him, to help him figure it all out.
“I emailed the leasing office last night,” he continues, “I’m waiting to hear if there are any units here that are available.”
I take in a sharp exhale, a small pressure in my chest forms at the thought that Luke can still be so good to me despite how much of a bitch I am to him.
A thought about Luke and me that I bury down with the rest of them.
“You didn’t have to do that. ”
There’s a sadness in his eyes that doesn’t look right on his face. A small smile graces his lips, and it makes me miss his wide grin and even that maddening smirk.
I’m too taken aback by the pressure that just keeps growing in my chest to realize he’s moved until he’s kneeling on the floor in front of where I’m sitting on the couch, his hand gently cupping my cheek as if I’d break with even the slightest touch.
“When will you understand that I will do anything for you?”
He stands up and heads to his bedroom before I can process his words, his touch, him .
The door closes behind him, and the pressure in my chest doesn’t subside.
I thought the space where my heart was supposed to be was empty, the pieces smashed and broken beyond repair.
Turns out, my heart has been there all along.
It just only beats for Luke.