“Unfortunately.” Luke’s face darkens slightly, though he doesn’t say anything else.
I feel a prickle of irritation at the back of my neck. “Am I invisible or something?”
“Is that a hint ofjealousyI detect?” Luke arches a brow and cocks his head to the side, giving me a mischievous smile.
I snort. “If people were coming up to me trying to steal me away while they ignored you like you’re just negative space on a bar stool, you can’t tell me you’d be fine with that.”
Luke chuckles. “Fair. But this isn’t a competition.”
He squeezes my hand, and his smile is warm and affectionate. I want to leave it there—to take that smile and hold onto it as the only validation I need that Luke wants to be here with me andonlyme—but I can’t silence the nagging voice in the back of my mind telling me itisa competition. One I’m not suited for or qualified to win. I’m utterly outmatched. It almost feels like a joke that Luke would pick me over any of them.
“I don’t know,” I mumble, my insecurities getting the better of me. I can feel how the alcohol has stripped away my filters, and I can’t help but lean into the fear that rears its head. “Those guys are all hot as fuck. Maybe youshouldgo home with one of them instead.”
Luke’s smile falters, a frown crossing his beautiful features, and I catch a flicker of anger in his eyes that draws me up short. He releases my hand, looking at me like I’ve touched a raw nerve, and he absently rubs his forehead as he turns away. “Wow.” He huffs a dry laugh. “I didn’t take you for the superficial type.”
“I’m not,” I counter, slightly defensive at his tone. “But come on. You’re like a supermodel with that face and body. Not to mention that hair.” Luke’s lips twitch slightly with the compliment, but his expression remains stern. “And I’m… Well, I’m not even close. Not like those guys with their fancy clothes and smoldering eyes. I mean, fuck. I still don’t know how I managed to turn your head in the first place. I’m nothing special.”
“That’s harsh. And not at all true. Do you honestly think that?”
“The evidence speaks for itself.” I give him a sardonic look. “I’m not the one being hit on every five minutes.”
“And that’s my fault?” Luke snaps, suddenly very angry. “I’m not asking for any of this.”
“That’s not what I meant.” I sigh, exasperated, feeling my temper rise to match his, almost like I have no control over it. “It’s just… You can’t possibly be ignorant of how beautiful you are.”
“I’m not,” Luke twitches uncomfortably, a flash of irritation moving over his face. He holds me captive with the intensity of his stare. “I’ve built an entire career around it, but I’m notvainbecause of it. I didn’t realize you were.”
“I’m not.” I defend, but it sounds weak in the face of Luke’s conviction.
“You know, having a pretty face isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It’s the only thing anyone sees. Nobody ever gives a shit about what makes meme. They only look at me like I’d be a good fuck.”
“Okay, now that’s harsh.”
“And yet, the evidence speaks for itself.” Luke gestures to Mr. Smolder, standing across the bar, still eyeing Luke like there’s a chance he’ll change his mind and take him up on his offer.
Luke turns away from me and downs the rest of his drink in one big gulp, simultaneously grabbing the bartender’s attention. He wordlessly pulls out his credit card and hands it off to close out the tab, and that’s the cue that we’re done. The mood of the evening has turned sour, and it’s unsalvageable.
What the fuck just happened?
I’m shocked by this unexpected turn in Luke’s attitude, unsure how we got here. It’s obviously my fault, but I feel like I’m missing something. I have to be.
Luke signs the receipt and gets up from the barstool without another word.
“Luke,” I beg as he brushes past me, uncaring whether or not I decide to follow.
I leave what’s left of my drink and jump up after him, but this time, he’s not waiting to make sure he doesn’t lose me. By the time I get outside, he’s already walked nearly a whole block away from the bar. I have to run to catch up to him.
“Luke,stop,” I say, reaching for his arm. He snaps it away from me, clearly still angry, but at least he stops walking. He won’t look at me.
“Whatever I said, I’m sorry,” I cry. “I wasn’t trying to make you angry.”
“Do you have any idea what it’s like not to be seen?” Luke asks with a bitter laugh. “To be the object of attention everywhereyou go, but purely superficially? I can’t justgo outwith friends, let alone boyfriends, without being hounded by fucking assholes who think this is all some big fucking game. Like I’m some prize to be had and not a real person with feelings.”
“That’s not what I’m—” I try to interject, but he keeps going, cutting me off.
“I’m the one who’s had to deal with this all my life. And yet, it’s always a problem for everyone else, even though I’ve done nothing to ask for any of it. I can’t stopexistingin the world any more than I can stop other people from being assholes. But somehow, it’s always my fault that this happens to me and not theirs for doing it. How is that fair?”
Suddenly, a lightbulb goes off in my head, and now I understand where his anger is coming from. Luke misunderstood my angst as a judgment against him for the attention he was getting. As if I was blaming him for all of these guys who approached him, like he had any control over it. Luke thinks I was accusing him of using his appearance to draw them in, when I was trying to point out that it made sense for him to get the attention, but not for me to be the object ofhis.
