8. Luke
CHAPTER 8
Luke
It’s been three weeks since I last saw her, but I can’t get Gigi out of my head. Can’t get what I said to her out of my head. My right knee bobs up and down thinking about the fucked up shit that came out of my mouth. Was I out of line? I definitely was. I should probably apologize.
“Dude, cool it,” somebody hisses from the table next to me.
I turn my head and the semi-permanent scowl that’s on my face forms itself. “What’s your problem?”
“Your stupid fucking pen. Some of us are trying to study.”
I follow his line of sight and, sure enough, find my hand clicking my pen repeatedly. I nod. “Sorry.” The guy shakes his head, and I turn mine back, my focus now on the scattered blue dots on the corner of my textbook. I’m not above apologizing. I can admit when I’m wrong.
Not even ten minutes of diving back into the world of accounting, I hear the door to the library open. Autumn comes in holding an insulated travel mug in one hand and the same textbook I have open in front of me in the other. Walking like she owns the place, like she owns me, she puts the two items down on the table and my backpack on the floor, freeing the chair next to mine.
“The auditing module is messing with my head,” she says casually as she grabs my water bottle and twists the cap open. You’re messing with my head.
“That’s mine, Autumn.”
She looks at me wide-eyed, but drinks from it anyway to make a point. “What? You’re too good to swap spit with me now?”
I vocalize the hundreds of groans I’ve been making in my head ever since she fucking waltzed in here, shaking my head as I do so. “Please, I’m trying to focus here, Autumn. I’m already on thin ice as it is with my scholarship.”
“I miss you, babe.”
My molars grit against each other hard. “Don’t.” Autumn grabs my forearm. The feel of her fingers causes bile to rise up to my throat.
Not going down without a fight, Autumn moves her hand to my thigh. “I want us to get back together, Luke.”
There’s nothing else to do but laugh at this point. “I’m done with this,” I whisper since the guy behind me is looking angry all over again. I should have studied somewhere else today; the guy would have had a much more peaceful time, and I wouldn’t have to deal with this crap.
“But…you were the one who started again, Luke.” She has a point . “You sought me out.” Autumn works her hand to my inner thigh, gripping the flesh lightly, knowing I like this.
“It was a one-time thing,” I say through gritted teeth, prying her fingers off me. “Now leave me alone. Please.”
“Is there someone else?” Oh, come fucking on.
“That’s really rich coming from you.” I close my textbook and pack up my shit. Not staying here for this bullshit.
“Luke, please,” she begs with the blue doe eyes that once made me weak in the knees. The ones that made me dare to think I was worthy of someone like her. “I still want to be with you.”
“Autumn.” I close my eyes and count to five in my head. “Maybe you should have thought about that before going back to Asher.”
I don’t let her answer. Instead, I put on my coat and make my way back to my place as fast as I can. The rain is pouring, but not heavy enough to wash away the memories of sophomore year as my brain keeps on playing it in a loop.
Meeting Autumn at a party. Falling for her. Meeting her parents and seeing the disapproving looks on their faces when they saw my beat-up truck. Realizing that Autumn was a rich girl in a rebellious phase. Having her break up with me because she got back together with her high school boyfriend. Waking up to drunk calls from her. Listening to her apologize about using me as a rebound and telling me that she brought me home to meet the parents because she knew she would get a rise out of her ex. Fun times .
I don’t even think she remembers making those calls. She wasn’t coherent enough and I knew I should have hung up. But there is no undo button in life. She can’t take her words back and I can’t pretend I didn’t listen to her alcohol-fueled confessions.
Sometimes my heart wishes that I could forgive her. It would be so much easier, especially when Andrew died. But Autumn Hargreaves reminds me of the girls who used to take interest in me in high school. The ones who either took interest in me out of pity or because they thought I was someone I wasn’t.
Back in my room, I take out my textbooks again and attempt my fucking best at a second round of studying. This is my ticket to a better life. Maybe I won’t feel sorry for myself, then. Maybe I’ll find peace. Maybe I’ll be happier.