Luke turns so he’s on his side, facing me. “Tell me about the guy you’re always sneaking off to see.”
I nearly choke on my own saliva. “What?”
I can hear the smile in Luke’s voice. “Willow told me when we went to get the stuff from the car that you’re in love with this old guy.”
“Ernie?” I half laugh, half cough.
“He even has a cool name.”
I roll my eyes in the dark, but I’m smiling too. “He’s the best. He’s hilarious and cranky and mischievous. Totally old people goals. You’d love him.”
When Luke shifts closer, I realize I’ve been whispering and he’s probably having trouble hearing me. Except now he’s whispering too. “Like you do?”
“Are you seriously jealous of an eighty-seven-year-old?”
“Depends if you’re in love with him. Old habits die hard, I guess.”
I know he’s only teasing, but a tingle of pleasure runs through me. Maybe there’s a part of him that doesn’t completely hate me.
Feeling brave, I take a chance and shift closer to him. Our heads are so close now, they’re almost touching. I can just make out his eyes in the dark.
“If I was in love with him, I don’t see how it would be any of your business. I’m allowed to fuck whoever I want, right?”
It’s out without my permission.
Luke doesn’t say anything, and the word diarrhea just keeps coming: “Just like you andCourt?”
“What does she have to do with anything?” he asks.
“You tell me.”
“She’s a friend,” he says. “From school.”
“Sounds lovely.”
“Why do you hate all my lab partners?” he asks. “First, Meredith. Now Courtney.”
Wonderful. Her parents bothered to give her a full first name, unlike mine.
But what I say is, “I never told you I hated Meredith.”
“But you got all stiff and pouty the day we talked about her.”
“I never got pouty,” I say, indignant. “I can’t believe you even remember that.”
I can’t believe that any of what we were before still registers in his mind. The us of now is a pile of ashes, burnt remains so unrecognizable it’s hard to say what either of us used to be.
Luke shifts his face forward until his lips rest against mine. “I remember everything,” he says, and it reminds me of earlier today, when he said he’d have done anything for me. I shut my eyes and wait for him to kiss me, but he doesn’t. His lips just stay against mine, not moving.
What does he want?
And then I remember something: I started this.
When Mel said she wanted to be happy and grateful and well-dressed and brave, I adopted her mantra. I stopped letting every second pass me by, and I took the first step and kissed Luke.
But that was last year.
What doIwantnow?
