“Right. What did you say about laughing fits?”
“Well, yes, there are those. Most of the time, you’re mature.” Luke pokes me in the ribs and grins before facing the ceiling once again.
“What else?” I prompt him. “This is fun!”
“Let’s see,” Luke says, folding his left forearm behind his head. He looks to the wall where his painting leans. “I like that you don’t think it’s strange that I like to paint ears.”
“I do, a little. But I like strange,” I say. “What else?”
“I don’t know, London,” he says, rolling to his side to face me and propping his head on his hand. “I think it’s just the whole package. I can’t pick you apart. I just love all of you. I think I always have.”
I wonder what he means by “always” as he brushes my face with his hand and we are quiet for a moment. It doesn’t sit quite right, but, not wanting to ruin the moment, I say, “I love all of you, too.”
>“Making friends tonight, huh?” Luke says with a sympathetic smile. He is holding my coat open for me.
“Let’s go,” he says, once I’m wrapped and ready.
He grabs my hand, and we rush through the wind toward his minivan, away from it all. In the bitter darkness, my mind wanders to a question that, according to my notes, I’ve been hoping to answer: Did I change anything with Page, or is she headed down the path toward embarrassment and heartbreak, courtesy of Brad from math?
Even though she clearly has it out for me, I silently hope that somehow Page’s fate will be different from what I saw those months before. However nasty she may be, no one deserves that pain.
27
“You’re sure she’s not home?” Luke whispers as he eyes the front of my house from the driver’s seat of his van.
“Yes, I’m sure,” I reply at normal volume. “Why are you whispering?”
“I don’t know,” Luke whispers. He looks at me and flashes a huge, cheesy grin, turns back to the house, and says, “I feel like she can hear me.”
“She’s not home!” I yell, to prove the point.
“Where is she?” he asks.
“She’s at a movie,” I answer flatly.
Suddenly, I’m nervous. Luke and I have been dating for several months. Does he expect something? Do I?
Knowing that I could obsess to death about this, I decide to go for it and leap out of the van. Before I slam the door behind me, I turn to Luke and ask: “Are you coming or what? I need a grilled cheese.”
He laughs and kills the engine, then follows my lead. We’re inside the warm entryway in no time, removing our jackets and shoes. I can’t help but wonder what would happen if I just kept going, removing my dress….
“She left all the lights on. Are you sure she’s not coming back soon?”
“Luke! What are you so afraid of?” I playfully shout at him. He’s looking back toward the living room to make sure that my mom isn’t there.
“Sorry, I know I’m being crazy. I just doubt your mom would want us here alone together this late at night.”
“Okay, first of all, are you from the fifties or something? And second of all, it’s not that late. It’s only…” I glance at the ornate wall clock mounted over the piano in the adjacent room. “It’s not even nine o’clock. My curfew is midnight. And, third of all, even if she doesn’t want us here alone, she’ll never know. She’s at a movie!”
“What time will it be over?” Luke asks.
“Ten thirty.”
“Fine, I’m leaving before ten thirty.”
“Fine,” I say, grinning.
“Fine,” Luke says gently. He’s standing over me now, finally calm, rolling up the sleeves of his untucked white dress shirt. The look of him makes my breath catch.