Chapter Seven
The Veil is Thin
“Idon’t think I like any of them.” Luke studies me pensively, his head cocked to the side. He’s got one hand poised under his chin as he ponders the shirt selections for my impending date.
“Seriously?” I frown at the three choices I’ve narrowed it down to, which he’s been staring at for the last two minutes. “My options are limited here. They can’t all be bad.”
We’re standing in his driveway after he graciously offered to help me choose what to wear tonight. So far, he’s made a face or noise of discontentment about everything I brought. I’m not sure if that still counts as ‘helping.’
We haven’t talked about what happened this morning, but I immediately saw a change in Luke that I wasn’t expecting.
He had always seemed guarded and hostile before, begrudgingly interacting with me only because I forced him to.
You wouldn’t even think he was the same person now, given the way he’s opened up.
There’s no more wall between us, and I have to say, it’s incredible.
“They’re fine on their own, but they’re not the right colors for those jeans,” Luke defends. “You didn’t bring any other pants?”
I scowl at the three long-sleeved button-ups. One is black, another is a dark green plaid, and the last is navy blue. I hold them against my jeans and groan miserably to see Luke’s right. The wash on the jeans is way too light for these dark colors, making the whole outfit look awkward.
“This is hopeless.” I scoff, tossing everything in the back of my truck. “I had a crappy morning, okay?”
“What about that bag of clothes you had on Saturday? Do you have something in there?”
I blink. Why didn’t I think of that? There are a few pairs of pants in there, and I’m sure at least one would be suitable.
I rummage around the back seat for the duffle bag, then sift through the neatly folded clothing until I find a pair of dark-wash denim jeans.
Turning around, I hold them up for Luke to see, and he nods his approval.
“Those and the green plaid would be my choice,” he says, and I’m relieved.
I’m running late again, and I just want the night and this stress to be over already. My bed and a good book sound like the most appealing things in the world right now. God, when did I become such an introvert?
Kicking off my shoes, I unbutton my jeans and shimmy out of them to switch into the darker pair. It’s only after I’ve stripped down to my boxer briefs that I notice the look of shock on Luke’s face, and I freeze, realizing what I’ve just done.
His jaw drops—literally drops—and my face warms. He’s staring at the one spot I’m now suddenly very conscious of.
God damn it, why am I like this? How have I lived this long being so stupid? I never even stopped to think before getting undressed, and now we’re both stuck with my dumbass decision to get half-naked in the middle of Luke’s driveway.
Luke composes himself better than I do, graciously turning his head away to give me some privacy, but the creeping color in his cheeks tells me he’s not doing any better than I am with what just happened.
Well, I guess we’re kind of even now. He gave me a show on Saturday, so I’m merely returning the favor. Kill me now.
After putting on the new jeans, I switch out my undershirt with a clean one from my duffle, then slide the button-up over the top, leaving it hanging open. I take the time to put my boots back on, then clear my throat once I’m fully clothed to indicate that it’s safe for Luke to turn around.
He huffs a laugh, dragging his hand over his mouth, and he turns to face me with that ridiculously charming half-smile he’s becoming known for.
“We’re not going to talk about it,” I snap quickly, fearing the devilish look in his eye.
“Talk about what?” He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face, and I know exactly where this is going.
“Nope. None of that.”
“What?” Luke feigns innocence. “I was just gonna say this girl is really, really—”
“Stop it.”
“—really lucky.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“Mn. I wish you would.”
“Okay!” I squeak, my face burning. “I’m going to go now before this gets any weirder.”
Luke chuckles and shakes his head, taking far too much pleasure in teasing me. But then he looks me up and down again, less lasciviously this time, and furrows his brow slightly, pursing his lips. “Can I suggest one thing? Then I think you’re good.”
“What?” I frown, looking down at myself.
“Cuff the sleeves.”
“Oh.” Not a bad idea.
The fabric is too tight against my biceps, making it difficult to adjust with only one hand. It bunches up awkwardly, and I have to redo it a few times because it just won’t sit right. When Luke sees me struggling, he steps closer and takes over, his long fingers working deftly.
The sudden shift in proximity throws me off guard as the space between us shrinks to almost nothing.
Maybe it’s because he was joking with me a minute ago, but my breath hitches in my throat, and my heart jolts in my chest. At this distance, I can feel the heat of his body radiating against mine, the sweet smell of his cologne filling my nose.
Luke's not gentle as he tugs on my sleeves to get them to cooperate, though I can’t say I dislike it.
But what stops me short is that every point where his fingers brush against my skin sends a spark, like a current of electricity that shoots up my arm, spreading through my entire body.
It’s vaguely alarming, yet not unpleasant.
The way his slender fingers work on my sleeve is like living art, hypnotizing to watch.
He’s got such delicate wrists, the bones very pronounced beneath porcelain-smooth skin.
There’s a curious itch in my brain begging me to run the pad of my thumb over the surface to test if they’re as soft as they look.
My eyes travel upwards, and I have to tilt my head back to see Luke’s face.
He’s all sharp lines and chiseled cheekbones, with skin so smooth and unblemished that I’m not convinced he didn’t step out of a magazine.
I have an urge to reach out and touch his face, but like, purely for scientific exploration.
Definitely only for science. Jesus, why am I sweating?
I marvel at the level of concentration on Luke’s face, wondering how he can be so calm when I feel like there’s enough electricity between us to light up the Chrysler Building.
When he’s done manhandling me, he drops his hands to his sides and takes a step back, abruptly breaking the spell I seemed to be under.
I blink a few times to clear away the cobwebs as he admires his work.
He meets my eye with a devastatingly handsome smile, sending another jolt straight through my gut.
What the fuck is happening to me?
“Are you all right?” Luke asks suddenly, concern knitting his brow. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”
“I… Uh—” I stammer, swallowing hard. My throat suddenly feels like I’ve never known a drink of water. “I’m just nervous, I think.” No, I think I’m having a nervous breakdown. What is wrong with me?
“You’re gonna kill it,” Luke assures me warmly, utterly unaware of the mental turmoil I’m suddenly facing. “You and Chrissy are gonna have a great time.”
That’s right. Chrissy. I’m about to go on a date with Chrissy.
I force myself to think of her large amber-colored eyes, wavy brown hair, and wonderfully curvy frame, remembering all the times I watched her while she worked at the bar and how she’s always made me feel.
It’s not hard to conjure the images, and as I retreat to the memories, I start to calm down.
This is a fluke—a weird reaction to my nerves. I’m reading too much into it, and nothing is happening that I need to be concerned about. It’s fine.
“Seriously, you look good,” Luke says, still trying to dispel my nerves but somehow having the opposite effect.
“Thanks. Thank you. I, uh… I’ve gotta go. But thank you.”
“You already said that.” Luke chuckles.
“Yes, I know,” I snap, pressing my fingers against my forehead. God, why am I being so awkward? “Okay. I’ll text you later. Or, actually, I’ll just see you tomorrow morning.”
“Okay,” Luke agrees. “Now go have fun. It’ll be good.”
I’m afraid to say anything else at this point. I feel like I’m being an idiot, making a fool of myself for no apparent reason. So, I nod instead, then close up the back of my truck, and move around to the driver’s seat.
Luke remains standing on the driveway, watching me as I pull away, and when I look at him through the rearview mirror, I swear I see him claw his hands down his face. But when I look again, he’s turned and walking back up to his house.