“No, not at all. It sounds like a movie.”
Luke laughs and says, “Oh, I’m sure we all have our movie dramas,” in a way that makes me think he can see into my soul.
“What about your parents?” he asks casually.
“My mom sells real estate,” I say, eyes on the houses we’re passing.
“What about your dad? What does he do?”
“I don’t know,” I say quietly. Luke glances at me.
“Sorry for bringing it up,” he says.
“It’s no big deal,” I lie. In truth, it’s a very big deal, particularly today, but it’s nothing I need to share with a potential boyfriend who seems to play no part in my future. I’m relieved when we reach Luke’s house. Luke’s very new, very large house.
We go in, and after a quick tour of the main level, Luke fixes turkey sandwiches in the kitchen while I scan a mantel in the library bursting with framed photos of him and his little sisters. I feel a little twinge of jealousy at the sight of the happy siblings.
A particular photo of Luke when he looks to be eleven or twelve catches my attention, then magnetically draws it back the first few times I look away. In it, he’s clearly going through a tough-guy fashion phase. I can’t stop looking at it.
Finally, I focus on shots of his baby sisters.
“They’re adorable,” I say about the little girls when Luke brings in lunch.
“Yeah, they really are. You should see them in real life. They say the most hilarious stuff.” Luke is beaming, and the thought of him serving as older brother to these two precious ladies feels right. “Anyway, you’ll meet them sometime,” he adds. “Here you go,” he says, offering me a plate.
“I didn’t know you were on a crew team,” I say before taking a bite of the best turkey sandwich on earth.
He frowns, and I consider that he might have shared that with me already. Instead, he replies, “I need to keep you away from the photos.”
“It’s cute,” I mumble through bread and turkey, admiring a photo of Luke and his teammates. He looks oddly out of place among the Ivy-bound prepsters, but strangely at ease just the same.
“Ha-ha,” he replies sarcastically, and then smiles. “I’m not really into team sports, but crew was pretty fun. You have no idea what cold is until you’ve been dunked in the Charles River at six in the morning.”
We share a laugh and then finish our lunches before Luke gives me a guided tour of the rest of the house. It’s gorgeous, and with every new room, I search for traces of him.
Luke does his homework here. Luke watches TV there. Luke plays video games here. Luke eats dinner there.
Upstairs, there are four bedrooms bordering a U-shaped balcony that overlooks the main entryway. In one corner is the master bedroom; closest to it is the twins’ bedroom. Next is the guest bedroom.
And then, we approach Luke’s room.
My heart races a bit as I take in the dark wood and deep blue walls, which stand in stark contrast to the lightness of the rest of the house. I can see a well-worn guitar leaning against a low chair in the corner. A massive oil painting of a girl’s ear rests against the wall. It’s strange and beautiful at the same time, and I can’t help but wonder who the ear belongs to. Does Luke want to paint my ear?
The covers are thrown in a modest attempt at making the bed, and I find myself wanting to run over and smell the pillows.
Somehow, I manage not to act like a total stalker.
We’re tight on time, so I don’t get much farther than the doorway, and too soon, Luke is gently guiding me away from the only place I care to be at this second.
“We should go,” he says softly, placing his hand on my back. “I don’t want to get you into trouble.”
I reluctantly agree, but as we make our way back down the grand staircase and out to the minivan, I feel an unmistakable pull from his bedroom.
There is just so much Luke in that room. I want more of it.
We drive back to school in comfortable silence and walk inside hand in hand. Just before parting ways in the middle of the commons, Luke turns to face me.