Paper Hearts

04

And that was how I found myself in the passenger's seat of a dusty blue pickup, sitting next to a practical stranger who now knew my address.

I'm an i***t, I thought to myself, as we began to pull out of the parking lot and into the road. Idiotidiotidiot.

But I stayed nonetheless. I allowed a random guy to take me home, without objection.

What was wrong with me?

"You're Vicki, right?" He asked me, casting me a sideways glance, once we were well on our way.

"Yeah." I said, surprised that he knew.

"I'm Luke. Luke Callaway. I―" he cleared his throat, pushing a hand through his hair, "I used to sit behind you in Geometry. In ninth grade."

I turned in my seat to look at him, narrowing my eyes. And I surprised myself by actually recognizing him. Luke Callaway, the talk of the town, good-boy-turned-bad.

Yes, I knew who Luke Callaway was.

And I was in the car with him.

Not good. This is not good.

Before the silence between us grew too obvious, I nodded nonchalantly, with a sort of forced laugh.

"Oh, Luke!" I said, with a wide smile. "Of course I remember you. How―uh, how have you been?"

"Alright," he replied, flipping on his turn signal as we came to a stop at the light. "How about you?"

"Um," I stated, and he turned, looking at me. Realizing that I'd been staring at him, I tore my gaze from him, busying myself with the bracelet on my wrist. "I'm―I'm good."

"You don't sound like it." He said, pointedly, and I couldn't help but frown.

"I really am," I protested. "It's just been―a long day."

"I've got time."

Thrown off by this response, I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words. Instead, I fell into another bout of silence as the truck lurched forward; speeding through the streets as soon as the light turned green. I clutched at my door handle, the breath knocked out of me as we came to a stop, the sudden impact throwing me back against the seat.

"Sorry," Luke said, looking at me again. "I'm not used to having company. Should have warned you about my driving."

You think?

Out loud, I said, "No, you're fine. Really."

A half-smile crept up on his face again.

"Liar."

More than you know.

"So, really Vicki, how have you been? It's been a while since we talked."

"We never talked," I responded immediately, and the second the words were out of my mouth, I felt like kicking myself. His brows furrowed as I added, "Much."

But Luke shrugged it off.

"You're right," he said, making another sharp turn that caused me to fly into my seatbelt. "The last time I can remember a conversation between the two of us was that one time you helped me with homework."

Of course, I was drawing a blank on this particular instance (I was often asked for help with homework; there was no way I could possibly keep track of every request), but I nodded and pretended that I remembered.

"Yeah," I said weakly, and he laughed a little, under his breath.

"So I'm guessing you only accepted this ride home to be polite."

At this, my eyes snapped up to his, but he didn't meet my gaze―instead, his steel blue eyes kept their focus on the road―and suddenly, I felt a pang of guilt.

"No," I objected, my voice soft. "I really did need a ride; I just didn't expect―"

"You didn't expect me to remember you?"

More guilt.

"Not exactly," I admitted, and he smiled, a bright flash of teeth before it disappeared completely.

"You don't have to feel bad, Vicki. I just―I don't know, it's been a long time."

He kept saying that as if we hadn't been in the same high school for four years. But it was true. It had been a long time before I'd even glanced at Luke Callaway.

But not anymore. Because, then, as I watched him drive, I couldn't help but notice all of the things I'd missed before. His tan complexion, striking eyes, the mess of brown hair that was just long enough to be moved out of his face.

There was no denying it; he was attractive. Hot, even.

Although I would rather be caught dead than admit it.

I must have been staring for a long time, because when we stopped at another light, he caught my gaze. Heat flooding my cheeks, I looked away pointedly.

"What's wrong, Hemmings?" He asked me, and I let out a bitter laugh.

"Nothing, I swear. I'm just tired."

"Sure," he said, his voice a sarcastic drawl. "Come on, Vicki, it's a Friday night! Nobody in Grayson is tired on a Friday night."

This was true. The adolescents of Grayson, Kentucky, tended to get wild on Friday nights especially―clubs, parties, you name it. But they were all the kinds of gatherings that resulted in kids throwing up in the corner, hangovers, and drunken karaoke. It was a hold-a-Solo-cup-and-try-to-look-cool kind of thing, and that wasn't exactly something I enjoyed. Rachael, however, loved going out. She'd dragged me along a few times, but nothing more than that. I just preferred to spend my nights at home, and she respected that.

In answer to Luke's statement, I replied,

"Well, I guess that makes me the first."

He laughed, thrumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he did so.

"Look, I'm not forcing you or anything, but you should swing by Tanner Hutchinson's place tonight. Everyone's going; it'll be fun."

"No, thanks." I said immediately, without thinking. Tanner and parties were two things I hated―both of them together would be living hell.

But Luke was oblivious to my past relationship with the host, and continued to persist.

"Vicki, you've gotta live a little bit. I mean, this is it! This is our senior year."

"It only just started." I said, and he smiled, risking a glance at me.

"Before you know it, it'll be over. Trust me on that."

He went back to driving, and I went back to staring out the window, surprised to feel myself wanting to go to the party, if only to prove to Luke that I knew how to have fun. Shaking my head, I forced the thought from my mind. I was not a party girl. Besides, I had bigger things to worry about.

After what seemed like eternity, Luke pulled into my driveway―sure enough, it was empty. Dad probably stayed late at work, therefore taking our only car and leaving me stranded at school.

At least, I would have been stranded.

"Thanks," I said to Luke, gathering myself and pushing the door open, carefully maneuvering myself down to the pavement. Right when I was about to close the door, he spoke, forcing me to keep it held open.

"You don't have to go to the party, Vicki." He said, and I brushed a strand of hair from my face, avoiding eye contact. "But, if you want, I'll be there. And we can be antisocial together."

I couldn't help it; I laughed.

"You promise?" I asked teasingly, and he nodded.

"You bet I do."

Shaking my head, I murmured, "I don't know. I might."

"Think about it."

With that, I gave a final nod of my head, shutting the door and retreating back into my house. From the kitchen window, I watched Luke pull out of the drive, back out onto the road, and disappear.

Once he was completely out of sight, I went upstairs, grabbing my phone from the nightstand and calling Rachael.

"Hey," I said, the moment she picked up. "Are you going to that party tonight?"