Paper Hearts

17

"So what's been going on with you lately?"

I hardly heard the question Dad asked at the dinner table last night; I gave a start when I realized it was directed at me. Our dinners had dissolved to occasional sharing of pleasantries and then getting on with our lives, all the while dancing around the still-touchy subject of Mom and the wedding. So the sudden interest in my life was jarring, but I wasn't about to let the opportunity slip.

"Nothing much," I replied instantly, with a smile. "You?"

"Work's good. Food's good. I'm good." he said, with just a hint of his old chuckle rumbling in his chest. I hadn't heard him laugh in a long time; it gave me the slightest flicker of hope that we could get over the rockiness between us.

"Good to hear."

"Yep."

A pregnant pause. He turned back to his meal. I was losing him.

"So," I said then, loudly. "Any gossip at the office?"

He laughed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"You and I haven't gossiped since..."

"I know," I cut in, laughing, "I just want to know."

"Well," he murmured, leaning in over the table. "Janice and Paris are in another one of their feuds."

"No," I whispered, aghast. "What happened this time?"

"Apparently Janice insulted Paris' mother-in-law. They won't even look at each other."

"Wow," I said, smirking as I leaned back. "Who would have thought."

He smiled, genuinely for once, and returned to his food. I felt a grin kick up the corners of my mouth; we were beginning to fall into our old ways, the habitual story-swapping, the small talk and recaps of each other's days. Maybe this wedding hadn't ruined everything, after all.

"So how's Rachael been?" he asked then, and as much as I loved talking to him, that was the last thing I wanted him to ask. But I cleared my throat and faked a smile nonetheless.

"Fine."

"And how about that other kid?" Dad questioned. "Luke, was it? Took you to a banquet a while ago?"

"Oh," I said, attempting to mask my surprise. I didn't think he would remember. "He's good, I guess. We're going to the wedding together—Mom wanted me to have a date."

"Really." he said, and it came out as a statement, flat, echoing through the space between us. I gulped.

"Is that okay?" I asked quietly, and he snapped back to attention, nodding.

"If it's what your mother wants, then it's fine."

I blew out a breath of relief, just for a second, until I realized that he had mentioned Mom. I tried to steer him away from her again, coming up with something to say, but he beat me to it.

"So do you know him well? Luke?"

"What?" I asked, and then after a pause, "Oh. Um, yeah. I do."

"You trust him?"

I arched a brow. "Yes."

"Any piercings? Tattoos?"

I hesitated for a moment, wondering whether Luke's temporary tattoo fetish was really worth mentioning.

"No," I said finally, and it wasn't technically a lie.

"Good." Dad said gruffly, "Then I don't have a problem with him."

I smiled then.

"Thanks, Dad."

"For what?"

His gaze met mine, and I averted it for a second before bringing it back to his.

"For everything."

________

Right when Luke and I had entered the theatre (Nolan was in group therapy), my phone buzzed.

I held a finger up to Luke, who nodded, sitting down and opening his notebook, busying himself while I fished my phone out of my pocket and looked at the screen.

It was Mom.

Inhaling deeply, I answered, holding it to my ear and saying,

"Hello?"

"Tori!" Came her annoyingly cheery voice, and I flinched. "Honey, how are you?"

Subconsciously, I wondered if she started every conversation this way. Nevertheless, I replied,

"Great. How about you?"

"Oh, just fine, hon, just fine. This wedding stuff is a piece of cake. We've got all kinds of decorators and planners—it's gonna be spectacular."

"I can't wait," I told her, and she made a vague murmur of assent.

"How's your boyfriend? What's his name, again?"

"Luke," I said, without even thinking, and embarrassment flooded me when I saw him look up to meet my eye.

Dammit, I thought, offering up a quick smile and then saying to Mom,

"Um, I'm kinda busy right now. Is it okay if we talk later?"

"No." she stated, aggression edging into her tone. "I'm busy too, Tori, not everything is about you. We hardly talk, and I want to give you the details about the wedding."

I blew out a breath, sitting down beside Luke, who shot me a quizzical look.

My mom, I mouthed to him, and he raised his brow in surprise. I rolled my eyes and decided to put her on speakerphone. If I had to deal with her now, he might as well get a taste for what she was like.

"Are you still there?" she demanded, and I sighed.

"Yeah."

"Good. Now, I'm trying to pick out bridesmaids dresses—do you like blue, coral, or gold better?"

"I don't care, Mom." I told her, and that just made her angrier.

"Great." she said loudly. "So I call up my daughter for advice, and suddenly, she doesn't give a damn. Thank you, Tori, thank you so much for making this easier for me. Honestly, what does a mother have to do to get her daughter's opinion on something?"

Not cheat on her husband, I thought bitterly. Out loud, I said,

"Fine. Um...gold."

"No." she said immediately. "I think I like the blue best. But what shade? I'm stuck between light sky and deep navy."

Luke shot me a shocked look, and I nodded as if to say, I know.

"Navy," I decided, just spitting out the first color that came to mind.

"No." she said again, inhaling deeply. "I think I like the light sky better."

"Okay." I told her. "Then it's decided. Anything else?"

"I don't like your tone," she snapped, and I sighed.

"I'm sorry. It's been a long day. Is there anything else you need?"

"Cake flavors!" she exclaimed. "I have about twenty-five flavors picked out, and I need to choose one of them by the end of this week..."

It took everything I had not to scream. Luke just looked at me, his expression appalled.

Then, suddenly, he got up and walked to the other end of the theatre, onto the stage. I watched him curiously as mom started rattling off flavors, and he cupped his hands to his mouth, shouting,

"Victoria! Is that you?"

I frowned, glancing around the room, but Mom's voice cut into my thoughts immediately.

"Ooh! Who's that?"

"That's...Luke," I sputtered. "Um..."

"Let me talk to him!" she said, her voice sweet and loving again. "I've been dying to get to know him!"

Luke nodded, walking briskly over and plucking the phone out of my hand, bringing it to his ear.

"Ms. Hemmings?" he asked, and I just watched, astounded, as he began to converse with my mother.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and I could hear her high-pitched voice squeaking over the receiver. "Well, it depends on your theme. If you're at the beach, I suggest something light and classy, like vanilla."

There was a pause, and he raised his brows before replying,

"No? Okay. How about almond? It's like vanilla, but more...elegant, I guess is the way to put it."

He smiled as my mother said something, and then frowned, shaking his head.

"You want to stay away from the chocolates. They're too rich; it'll offset the entire wedding. You want something that matches the mood and location."

He waited for a bit, nodding, and then said finally,

"I think the way to go is coconut."

At this, my breath caught in my throat as he broke into a grin, saying,

"Really? You like it? I think it's perfect, too. Matches up with the beach and the tropical aspects."

Another pause, in which he laughed.

"I'll tell her. It was nice meeting you, too. You're welcome; I'm glad I could help. Alright. Goodbye, Ms. Hemmings."

I heard my mother say something, and he corrected himself.

"Laurie. Well, Laurie, Victoria and I can't wait. We'll be there. Bye, then."

And with that, he hung up, handing my phone back to me and smiling as he caught sight of my flabbergasted expression.

"You—you did that in less than five minutes. You actually convinced my mother to agree with you. How the hell—"

"My aunt used to be a wedding planner, and my uncle baked the cakes. Believe it or not, Victoria, I know a few things."

And with one last quirky smile, he turned back to his notes, leaving me to just stare at the inhuman miracle that was Luke Callaway.

_________

While things with my mother were getting better, things at school were getting worse. It was a Wednesday afternoon when I was walking to my last period, a stack of books in hand, when a girl I'd never seen before stopped me abruptly and arched a brow.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice sharp as she flicked back her long, dark hair, "I think there's something I need to clear up with you."

"Um," I said, frowning, "I—I don't think—"

"It's about Luke," she said, and at the mention of his name, she caught the attention of everyone else in the hall.

"Look," I muttered, "Maybe we should talk—"

"No." she said firmly. "Don't you know who I am?"

"I don't," I replied, trying to keep the tremulous note out of my voice. "But this isn't—"

"I'm Elle Dunst," she said, as if I were supposed to immediately recognize her once she stated this fact. The blank that entered my mind must have shown on my face, because she snarled,

"Luke's ex-girlfriend. And I swear to God, if these rumors are true—"

Oh. Oh.

"They aren't," I said quickly, trying to ignore the murmurs and stares that were springing up everywhere now. "Now, please, I need to get to class—"

"I don't think so," Elle said, standing in front of me and staring me down as she said, "If I find out that they're true, you're gonna wish you never came to this school, because I have connections, Vicki."

She spat my name like venom, and I flinched.

It's just an empty threat, I told myself. Empty, empty threat.

But everyone else didn't seem to think so. Elle pinned me down with one last glare before turning on her heel and stalking away, dark hair swishing about her shoulders, and suddenly it felt as if the whole room had gone several degrees colder.

"She's not kidding," I heard someone whisper from behind me. "Last year, when Luke and Janie Geller were a thing, Elle ruined her reputation—she told everyone that her dad was a cross-dresser. Janie was so embarrassed; she transferred schools."

"Damn," said the recipient of this comment, tone hushed.

Ignoring them, I continued my walk to class, never slowing in stride, wondering if I could forget that this ever happened at all.

________

My phone rang only five minutes after I got home, throwing my backpack in the corner and shutting my eyes tight, trying to block out the noise.

Eventually, it got too annoying. I picked up begrudgingly.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

It was Luke. I closed my eyes. I had skipped our meeting today; I didn't want to speak to him—not after the Elle Dunst incident.

Luke didn't wait a second before launching into conversation.

"Why weren't you there today? I waited in the theatre for an hour."

"Sorry." I replied. "I was busy; I forgot to tell you."

"How did you get home?"

"I walked."

"Seriously?" he asked, and I could almost see his exasperated expression. "Victoria, if you weren't up for it, you could have told me. I still would've taken you home."

"Look, it doesn't matter. I'm sorry I bailed. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait," he said, his voice measured and calm. "Come on, Victoria, tell me what's going on. What's your problem?"

"Nothing." I sighed. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Stop avoiding the damn question," He replied heatedly. "If you don't tell me, how am I supposed to know what I need to fix?"

"It's not you," I said, growing annoyed. "It really doesn't matter—"

"Victoria, I swear to God—"

"It's Elle Dunst!" I told him then, my voice sharp and cold. "It's that goddamn Elle Dunst, and now you don't have to worry about it, okay? Goodbye."

"Victoria—"

But I hung up, tears welling in my eyes as I tried to regulate my breathing, ignoring my phone as it buzzed again, and then fell silent.

I just laid there on my bed for ten minutes, trying not to hyperventilate, trying to calm myself down.

Once I felt as though I had myself under control again, I looked at my phone. There was a message.

Meet me at the ice cream shop in twenty.