I’m dying to know what’s happening, wondering what could be causing him so much distress. But my focus is suddenly diverted as Marcus appears out of nowhere and plants himself in front of me, dragging my attention away from Luke.
“It’s here!” he exclaims, his excitement palpable.
I blink with confusion. “What’s here?”
“The car! Come on, you’ve gotta come see it,” Marcus says, grabbing my arm and pulling me up from the deck, despite my mild protests. He starts dragging me toward the house, and I have no choice but to follow, though I can’t help but turn my head back to see that Luke is still caught in a heated conversation. I feel a twinge of angst about leaving him behind.
Marcus calls out to Ryder and announces to the rest of the guests that there is a birthday surprise in the driveway that everyone needs to see. I lock eyes with Luke briefly as he hears the announcement, but he subtly shakes his head and returns to the phone call. Then I’m suddenly caught in a stampede, being herded out to the front of the house like cattle with the rest of the group until we’re all on the front lawn.
Sure enough, there is a vintage, very dilapidated-looking Volkswagen Beetle sitting in the driveway with a comically oversized red bow on top. It’s rusted out in several places butseems pretty solid otherwise. I can imagine how amazing it will look once it’s had a fresh coat of paint and the new upholstery installed.
Yet, as we all gather around to see it, I can barely focus on Marcus’s speech as he shares the story behind the old car or the way Ryder hugs him to the point of breaking ribs. My mind is stuck on the image of Luke alone in the backyard, dealing with some unknown crisis.
Every instinct in my body is telling me to run back and comfort him in whatever way I can, almost like a physical tether pulling me in his direction. The longer I stand here, the harder it is for me to resist the urge to turn and barrel through the crowd to go back to his side, almost to the point of pain.
So, when Ryder excitedly gets behind the wheel of the Beetle and honks the ancient and horrible-sounding horn they’ll eventually replace, the crowd cheers and gathers around the car to check it out more closely, allowing me an opportunity to slip away unnoticed. While everyone is preoccupied, I make my way back toward Luke.
The backyard is empty now that everyone is gathered out front, but I find Luke sitting alone on the edge of the deck with his head in his hands, and my heart clenches with worry to see the tension buried between his shoulders. He hears my approach and quickly rubs at his face, which makes me think he’s been crying. The way he avoids my gaze when I sit down beside him only adds to my suspicion.
“Is everything okay?” I ask softly.
Luke shakes his head and clenches his jaw slightly. “It’s nothing.”
“Luke….”
“It’s nothing,” he snaps back, perhaps a little more harshly than he intended, by the way his face contorts with shock andthen misery. He sighs heavily, rubbing his palms against his eyes before dropping his hands in his lap. “Sorry,” he grumbles softly.
Automatically, I place my hand in his, squeezing his fingers gently. Luke drops his eyes to his lap, and his face twitches with an unreadable emotion before his grip tightens in mine. But he still struggles to meet my gaze directly. He lets out a heavy exhale and closes his eyes.
“Talk to me,” I try and gently coax, but Luke shakes his head again. “What happened?”
“It’s not the kind of thing to get into at a birthday party.”
“Can we go somewhere else to talk?”
Luke finally turns his head to look at me then, his lips twisting into a weak smile before it drops, almost like it was too much effort to keep up. My heart tightens to see the depth of grief in his expression, the red of his eyes weighing me down. God, he looks so tired…
“I’m okay,” he says softly, trying to be reassuring. “I just need a minute, and I’ll be fine.”
“Luke….”
“Ethan,please,” he begs, his voice pained. “I don’t want to get into it here.”
I can see a wall go up, almost like he’s erected a physical barrier between us, his whole body coiled tight like a spring. I haven’t seen him like this in a while, at least not since he’s been with me. Every part of my brain is crying out to demand answers, to pry him open until all his secrets are laid bare on the table, knowing that if we don’t talk about it now, we probably never will. But something in the fragile look on his face makes it hard to push him where he’s clearly not ready to go. I know a thing or two about what that’s like.
“I don’t like knowing you’re hurting,” I say timidly instead.
Luke’s face softens as he looks at me, and I can tell that he feels the weight of the sentiment behind my words, my concernfor his mental state endearing to him. He leans into me, then, his lips slightly parted, blue eyes searching. He looks like he wants to kiss me, and I’m drawn in like a moth to a flame, craving the moment our lips will finally connect. But then Luke suddenly glances behind his shoulder at the house and quickly snaps forward, frowning.
I freeze in shock. I’d nearly forgotten that there was a house full of people at our backs who might see us, and the sudden reminder sends a chill down my spine. The sensation is quickly followed by a surge of irritation when I recall my earlier reaction to the thought of being caught in a similar predicament, and now I’m pissed at myself.
I glance around at the giant wall of windows and see a smattering of people hanging out inside in full view of the deck, though none of them are facing our way. Still, we’re too exposed here not to be seen if we started kissing. The impulse is there to just say fuck ‘em and grab Luke by the neck anyway, kissing him stupid until all of his worries have disappeared, and I want so badly to give in to it. But my body won’t obey the command in the face of such a potential audience, the fear ultimately winning out.
Instead, the moment passes, and I just let out a heavy sigh, cursing my continued cowardice. The fucked-up thing about this is that I know the only thing stopping me isme. I’m too weak to do what I know I should, and that thought kills me.
Luke gives me a knowing smile that tells me he sees what I’m struggling with and is okay with it. It’s kind and compassionate and veryLuke.But I don’t deserve it. Not right now. After a moment, he lifts our joined hands, the safety of our bodies shielding the motion, and he kisses the back of my fingers before letting them drop.
“Let’s go back in,” he suggests, standing up with a stretch. “I daresay people will start to talk if they see us out here like this.”
