Placid (Luke Hemmings)

Chapter Fifteen

| emma’s pov |

I flipped through the pages of the book, comfortably seated next to Luke. We were leaning on a bookshelf, since there were no chairs. Thankfully, there was a carpet laid out on the floor.

I looked over to the right, in the most discreet manner, to see what he was reading. It was something about paranormal activity. My eyebrows knit together; he liked these kinds of things?

Well, there was more to him than meets the eye, anyway. He had a lip piercing, and I never expected that, based on his demeanor.

Focusing my attention on the book in my hand, I tried to absorb myself in the book. It was a children’s storybook, so there was no reason for me to not like it.

“She swore to protect the prince, with all her might, and have him all hers. Even if that meant hurting other people and him.”

Bewildered, my mouth hung open. How was this even considered appropriate for kids?

Even though my heart was beating so fast from fear, I read on. The sentences to come were absolutely horrible, and the graphics were even more petrifying. She hurt the prince. She killed those who hurt him. She killed whoever was in her way.

I was at the edge of my seat, though I had none, wanting to find out what she’d do to the princess. But I was distracted by Luke’s sudden question, just like the time we were at the beach.

“Do you ever get tired?” He asks me.

“Tired of what?” I replied, looking up from my book.

“Of lying,” he whispered.

I closed the book I was holding, turning my full attention to him. The horrifying happenings in the book were erased from my thoughts, momentarily. Luke needed me, didn’t he?

His body faced mine, and his book was long gone. I bet he placed it in the bookshelf already.

“What do you mean by lying?” My green eyes were searching for any emotion in his blue ones. I found guilt. Extreme guilt. The fact that he couldn’t even look me in the eyes gave it away. I had to literally hold his face to have him stare at me.

“Emma,” he started, biting his lip. He was reluctant to tell me; I knew that much.

I let go of his face and put my hands on my lap, getting ready for whatever it was he was going to tell me. “Go on.”

A look of regret washed over his once remorseful expression. He didn’t want to tell me anymore.

Just as I was about to prompt him, for a brief moment, I felt his lips on mine. It was just a quick kiss, nothing I would get angry at, or regret.

But soon after he pulled away, he mumbled an apology and dashed out.