It’s enough to make me wish Luke had never shown up in my life. God, I loathe myself for even thinking that. I’m so fucking tired, and all I want to do is sleep so I can forget this night ever happened.
I can hear Luke sigh softly from his spot near the foot of the bed, but I ignore him.
The tent goes quiet for a long while after that until I assume Luke must have fallen asleep. Then I hear the shuffling of his sleeping bag as he gets up from the floor, tossing his things up on the bed. I’m sure he’s realized I was right about the cold. The mattress dips slightly under his weight as Luke sits down, but I keep my eyes closed and don’t move.
“Ethan? Are you awake?” he asks quietly, but I don’t respond. What’s the point?
He sighs again, but doesn’t say anything else as he lies down, settling under the covers beside me. It’s infuriating how badly I want to turn around and face him, but I don’t. Instead, I listen to the sound of his breathing mixed with the chirping crickets outside and fail to find any solace in sleep.
This is going to be a long night.
Chapter Eighteen
Consequences
Infact,Idon’tthink I sleep at all.
My brain never shuts up, and whenever I think I’m drifting off, I startle awake with a nightmare of Luke pushing me into the lake, where I sink underwater until I can’t breathe. It feels oddly accurate to my suffocating situation.
Luke,the fucker, fell asleep almost immediately after he climbed into bed a few hours ago. The tent’s been filled with the sound of his snoring ever since, only adding to my restlessness. I guess he couldn’t be gifted with ethereal beauty and raw talent without having some kind of fault, and this was how the universe decided to keep the balance. Lucky me.
No amount of rationalization makes this make sense. Even with time and distance from that beach, Iknowwhat I saw. It wasn’t simply a matter of impaired judgment tricking me into believing it was real. Although, at this point, it doesn’t matter if it was real or not. In the end, Luke made his feelings clear, and I got what I wanted. The answer to the question that’s plagued me for the last couple of weeks—whether or not Luke would be interested in me. He isn’t. He drew a firm line in the sand, andI have to face the reality that I crossed that line. I misread the situation and acted rashly—selfishly, even—messing everything up because of it.
I made a mistake, plain and simple.
It’s better to think that than to welcome the thoughts currently clawing at the back of my brain, trying to take over. The ones telling me that I’m an undesirable fuckup and there’s no way in hell Luke would ever be interested in me because I’m unworthy of love. Even though I know it’s a lie, intellectually, it would be so easy to give in and believe it.
Thankfully, I’ve come a long way since I was nineteen when those thoughts would have consumed my entire soul until I was a barely functioning mess on the floor. Years of constantly working on my mental health have made it so I can passively acknowledge them without spiraling into the abyss of self-deprecation and despair. Although, it seems I’ve got my work cut out for me tonight, keeping them at bay on top of everything else.
Eventually, my anger thins, giving way to a numb ache in my chest instead. Things didn’t go according to plan, and there’s nothing to do now except live with the consequences, whatever they may be. If Luke decides to stay angry and never talk to me again, that’s his choice. I won’t spend the rest of the weekend resenting him for it. I’ll just let it go and pretend it never happened.
At least it'll be easier keeping the space between us now that I know that's what he wants.
Just before dawn, Luke rolls over, jostling me awake from a light sleep. The distance between us suddenly disappears, and I freeze as he curls up along my back with a shiver.
Glancing over my shoulder, I see he’s still asleep. He probably doesn’t even realize what he’s done, unconsciously searching for something to ease the cold, and I’m the closest heat source.
I could be an asshole and shove him off. All it would take is a push, and it would make up a little for the way he’s treated me. But I don’t have it in me to be mean, even if some part of me thinks he deserves it. Instead, I listen to the way Luke sighs with relief against me, envying his peace.
It’s impossible to miss how my heart beats faster now that he’s touching me—how my whole body reacts to his presence with a warm, tingling sensation.
I know I shouldn’t want this. My brain is yelling at me to remove myself from the picture, tosavemyself from the heartache. But how can I ignore it when a simple embrace has the power to unravel me like this? I can’t get enough of it, even though it’s killing me. It’s not genuine affection since Luke’s not even aware he’s doing it, but I can’t deny him all the same, even if it’s to my detriment. His touch is like a drug, and apparently, I’m just a hopeless addict.
Luke might not want me, but right now, I can serve a purpose for him, and I’m content to let him use me. Evidently, I don’t have enough self-respect to be upset by that fact.
Surprisingly, though, after a few minutes of lying with him pressed against my back, I finally feel my body ease into a more relaxed state, and I’m able to drift off to a dreamless sleep.
When I open my eyes again, it’s around 7:30. The sun is barely up over the horizon, but it’s shining into the tent, and my body slowly wakes, despite my exhaustion.
It only takes two seconds to notice that Luke and I are folded together in a mess of limbs like an origami masterpiece, and myheart aches. I never would have guessed that the man was such a nighttime cuddler, clearly lacking any sense of boundaries in his unconscious state. If only I’d found that out under better circumstances.
As I contemplate all the places our bodies meet, I have to remind myself that this isn’t real. It’s a comedy of errors, and I’m the butt of the joke. But I can’t say I don’t love the warm, peaceful sensation that accompanies waking up with the touch of another body on yours. That kind of connection is seldom welcomed in any other context and would be even less accepted in this particular situation if Luke were truly aware of it.
His head is on my shoulder, with an arm draped across my chest. The sound of our slow, steady breathing forms a calming rhythm—the picture of serenity. I could easily fall asleep again if I’m not careful. It would be so simple to settle in and drift off, like this was the actual outcome from last night.
The problem is that it feels strangelyright, like this is how we’re meant to be. I know that’s wrong, and I’m leery of whatever Luke's reaction might be to finding us like this, even though it’s notmyfault he can’t keep himself to himself.
So, after allowing myself another moment of tortured bliss, I carefully peel my body out from under his grasp, moving slowly so I don’t wake him up. He hardly stirs with the movement, sighing as he settles again on the bed, never even opening his eyes.
