The Harbour

AUGUST 20TH 10 AM It's been a week since their last fight. Luke and Daisy have been fighting a lot lately. The distinction between last week's fight and their other fights is that they didn't make up immediately after. Daisy hates the conflict as it makes her uneasy. Making love after fights always seems to ease the tension. Occasionally, they'd f**k but most times they made slow sloppy breathless love. With each thrust, Luke would mumble, "I'm sorry," in her ears and kiss her vexation away. But this time, they didn't make love, or hate f**k. This time, they'd both been so angry they couldn't stand to be around each other. Daisy had clearly been angrier, considering she'd stormed off and left him, and they hadn't spoken since. And unlike their other fights, Luke hadn't chased after her. He'd been too exhausted to. What exhausted him more he couldn't figure out; had it been her altogether, or the petty disagreement that had unfortunately led into an explosive argument? Whichever of the two it had been was of no consequence, considering he'd let her storm off. Something he knows he'll have to atone for sooner rather than later. Luke turns everything over in his mind as he pulls into the driveway of her extravagant lake house, the one he always thought was pretentious, dreading the conversation ahead. He longingly thinks back to all the times he and Daisy had been happy. They'd been "annoyingly happy" as their peers always put it. How'd it get to this? He thinks to himself.  At the sound of her doorbell, Daisy springs up anxiously from her comfortable velvet couch and makes her way to her front door. She knows who's behind it. She'd been expecting him. A week had gone by since they'd fought and he hadn't reached out to her. Understanding she could not put it off any longer, she called him. It's time they discussed things. Too much has occurred since the last time she saw him and so much has changed. It's disconcerting how much change could happen in a week. How a singular event possesses the power to profoundly alter the trajectory of one's life. Daisy too, has recently undergone a series of unfortunate events, that make her altercation with Luke surprisingly not the worst thing that has transpired in the last several days. No matter, calling him here was a gamble considering how they'd left things. How she'd left him. She sighs heavily at the mental reminder. In as much as she would've wanted to give him his space. And award herself with some much-needed space too, this conversation needs to be had. She has to end things. It's for the best after all. He would be free of her and she of him. And frankly after what she's done, she can not bear to look at him without the guilt and shame of it all eating her alive. Yes, it's better this way. "Hi," she says awkwardly. "Come in" She opens the door wider and ushers him into her spacious living room, he settles into one of her armchairs. Daisy sits across from him and studies him for a while before she speaks "You look good" she lies, anyone could take one look at him and conclude that he does not. He looks... for want of a better term: like crap. In contrast to what he usually looks like. Lucas Prescott is handsome, agonisingly handsome. He is tall, but not too tall. Just the perfect height for her you might say. His unreal frame is thanks to his broad shoulders. And his piercing gaze is owed to his narrow and dark eyes. Yes, those wonderful seductive eyes. The ones she perpetually got lost in, and smooth tan skin she couldn't keep her hands off. Even so, that was before. Before it all went to s**t. Before he'd left his family, his friends and certainly most importantly: her for Boulder City. Before she'd lost control and. . . She shakes the shattered memory out of her head, refocusing on the train wreck sitting across from her. She notices the dark circles around his eyes. Clearly, he hasn't slept in days. Neither has he gotten a haircut and a shave. She cringes at the remnants of a sttuble. Bearded men have never appealed to Daisy. He brings his hand to his chin and softly runs his fingers over his annoying whiskers. Daisy shudders with displeasure. She supposes it's better this way. He'd be easier to dump if he didn't look exactly the way she wanted him to. Well-groomed and handsome. "So do you," he says, his voice wavering as if caught off guard by her attempt at a compliment. "What?" She says, snapping out of her thoughts. He raises an eyebrow and repeats: "I said you look good too," "Oh," after a pause, she asks; "would you like anything to drink?" "I'm fine, thanks," he says. An uncomfortable silence follows, Daisy finally clears her throat and starts, "This isn't an easy conversation to have." She chuckles, but there's no humour in it. He looks at her, saying nothing, his expression unreadable. "I think you know why I asked you to come here," she states. "No. I don't," he says, his voice sharp as if in protest. His harsh tone unexpectedly makes her flinch. Daisy could tell the action surprised him. She could've reassured him that she was not afraid of him. That she was on edge because of something else entirely and not because of him. But she didn't. Instead, - ignoring the worried look on his face, she continued. "Luke, I-I can't do this anymore," she averts her eyes, embarrassed at how cliché she sounds. Daisy has never been good at delivering bad news. That was the very reason she'd practised this speech! But here she is- fumbling over her words. "We're well aware that we're not the best fit for each other, and I believe it's time we went our separate ways," she gently holds her fists on her lap. "Fighting, it just doesn't serve us any good." As she gazes at him, her determination grows stronger. It's as if the mere mention of the word "fighting" has ignited her bravery, reminding her that this is a necessary step. "It doesn't serve me any good- " he scoffs before she can finish. "I know what you did, Dais," he says with irritation. "And I don't think you'd want me to tell anyone about it." After a calculated pause, he asks: "Would you?" The courage she'd gathered only a moment ago instantly fades. Making her wonder whether it had ever been there. "I-I don't think I know what you mean," she tuts. "Oh, but I think you do, baby girl." She watches as he settles back into his seat, looking pleased with himself. She knows that look. He's not bluffing. Does he know? Daisy thinks to herself. What does he think he knows? Her heart thumps in her chest. He just got here, didn't he? So how would he know? There's only one way he would know. If he told him. A wave of anger washes over her. Why the hell would he do such a stupid thing? Does he not realise telling Luke would put them both in danger? Will she have to get rid of Luke, too? She has to. She doesn't have a choice. Daisy cannot risk anyone else finding out, and she certainly can't risk going to jail.