“Carry on, then,” Luke says, and I find myself fighting the smallest smile.
We somehow make it through to the end of lunch. Before we go our separate ways, Luke kisses me on the temple.
“We still on for tonight?”
I nod, slightly lightheaded from the feel of his lips on my skin. When it happened yesterday, I was too shocked and wound up to appreciate it. Now it feels ... I can’t think about how it feels.
“Wait—tonight?” I repeat.
“Dinner and then my mom’s?”
Oh, right. Today is Friday. “Dinner” which we will pretend to have together before we go back to Mel’s.
“Right. Sure,” I say.
Willow grabs my arm and walks me across the cafeteria. “Y’all are so cute,” she says. “Why did you ever break up again?”
“The whole college long-distance thing took its toll,” I lie.
NOW
When Luke picks me up from my house at quarter to eight, there’s a bag of takeout on the passenger seat.
“We ate at Dynasty?” I say, peeking into the container.
“Yep. You loved their dumplings. Sweet and sour pork was great as usual. These are our leftovers,” Luke says.
“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
He doesn’t say anything as we come to a stop at a red light.
In the silence that follows, I drum my fingers on the side of the door. At this point I’m not even that anxious about seeing Mel. It’s these uncomfortable moments with Luke, when it’s just the two of us. A feeling of sadness replaces the awkwardness as I remember the way things used to be with us. I know he can’t look at me for real these days, but I wonder if he feels it, too. If it hurts him as much as it hurts me that we’ve drifted so far apart.
“Luke ...” I say before knowing what I’m going to say.
He turns to look at me.
“Did you get all my messages?” I ask. “Last year?”
If he got one, he got them all. They were all pretty much variations of the same thing:
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so sorry please don’t hate me
He had never responded.
“Yeah,” he says now, simply, and silence stretches out between us once again. I go back to drumming my fingers in that way I know is annoying, but I can’t seem to stop.
Soon we are pulling up in front of his house.
I hop out of the car, the container of food in my hand. Luke starts to reach for it when a loud buzz interrupts us.
He digs his hand into his pocket and stares at his screen. “Have to take this. Door should be unlocked.”
“I’ll go inside then,” I say.
I leave him walking back up the driveway, talking in a low voice. The door is unlocked, and as soon as it swings open, I hear voices and laughter.
Naomi.
