07
913 Words
I sat at the bar, blowing steam off of the hot chocolate while Luke washed dishes in the corner. There weren't any other customers around; it was just us. He kept to himself and I kept to myself, debating whether I should leave or not. The silence is becoming almost awkward, I can't find the words to speak, and I already had my purse.
I can leave, I told myself, It's not like he's going to stop me.
The funny thing was, I didn't want to. In fact, I wanted to stay there, just to see if maybe―just maybe―we could make conversation, like we did last night at the party.
So I took my time―stirring my hot chocolate and taking slow, deliberate sips.
And, finally, he turned around.
"You almost done?" He asked, smiling broadly, and I nearly choked on the sip I was taking.
"Yeah," I said, with a small cough. "Yeah, thanks."
"No problem," he replied, moving to the bar and handing me a napkin, pointing to a few droplets of liquid that were running down the side. I cleaned it up in one quick swipe, clearing my throat before looking back up at him, unsure of what to say.
But Luke did all the talking for me.
"So," he said, leaning on his elbows across from me, a smile quirking up half of his face.
"So." I echoed, and immediately felt like kicking myself for not being able to say anything else. I took another sip of my drink to cover up the blush that I felt running to my cheeks.
He didn't seem to notice, though. Instead, he just kept looking at me with that penetrating stare, his gaze curious, questioning.
"What?" I asked, feeling the defensiveness that rose up in my chest become evident in my tone.
"What's wrong, Hemmings?" He asked, and I averted my gaze, clearing my throat.
"Nothing."
"When will you stop avoiding that question?"
Never, I thought. Out loud, I said,
"I'm not avoiding it."
"Yes, you are," he said, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
What was I supposed to say? "Oh, sorry to bring this up, but my mother is getting married in four weeks and I don't have a date."
Even in my head it sounded stupid.
So I continued to play the game of denial. "No, I'm not."
"Is it Tanner?"
The words were so sudden, so jarring, that I looked up at him, my jaw unhinged in surprise. His gray eyes turned kind, softening at the sight of me, and I swallowed hard, the memories from my answering machine crashing back into me.
"Yes," I said, and it wasn't technically lying. "Yes, it is."
At this, Luke came out from behind the counter and slid into the seat next to me, shifting his spinning chair to face me. When he did, my breath caught in my throat, and I forced myself to look away.
"You don't have to talk if you don't want."
I don't.
"No, it's―" I paused, releasing a breath. "It's fine."
He arched a brow, but didn't say anything, implying that he was listening.
So I told him.
"Tanner―uh, he―he left me a message. Last night. He was kind of...drunk."
At this, a laugh escaped Luke's lips.
"Naturally," he said, and I offered a tight-lipped smile, trying to finish.
"Well, you know, he―he just kept talking about how he and I belong together, and that he made a mistake. And―"
Remembering the last part―the part about Luke―I cleared my throat, looking down at my hands.
"And that's it." I said, smiling again. "I don't know; I guess it just kind of bothered me."
"Which is completely understandable," he answered, nodding. "I mean, that would shake anyone up."
I nodded, my mind drifting back to my mother and the wedding as he asked,
"Are you going to try again? You know, with him?"
"No." I said immediately, and it came out quicker than I'd meant. I cleared my throat.
"No, I just...I don't think that's a good idea."
"Well, I'm glad you've at least made up your mind about it." He said, with a smile. When I didn't respond, he gestured to my now-empty cup. "You want some more?"
I inhaled deeply, replying, "No, I―I think I should go. Thank you, though. Um, for the hot chocolate and the purse, I mean."
"No problem," he said, getting off of the barstool and back into the work space, going back to his dishes.
I collected my belongings and set my cup aside, shaking out my hands as I approached the exit.
Ask him, a voice in the back of my head insisted. Ask him, before it's too late.
I glanced behind my shoulder, at Luke, who was now finishing up the dishes and beginning to sweep the floor. My heart leapt as he brought his eyes up to look at me, and I looked away, holding back a yelp of surprise.
I couldn't ask him. There was no way. We had only just started to talk again; I would be imposing if I—
"Do you need anything else, Victoria?" he questioned from behind me, and I released a shaky breath.
It's now or never.
So I turned, giving him a small, tight-lipped smile before saying,
"Yes, actually. Um—do you need a tutor?"
- Writer
