“Layla, not now. I’m feeling pretty all right; I’ll get checked if I need to.”
“How can you know what you need, if you haven’t been checked?”
“Layla, I’m telling you, it will cause so much shit with my dad. The team is counting on me, and my scholarship depends on football, so…leave it for now, okay?” He glances back, finds his father, visible again among the group, and locks eyes with him. The man couldn’t have heard, but he stares hard at Luke like he has. “Did you get your phone fixed?” Luke asks, turning back to me.
“No. They said to check in with them tomorrow.”
“Then, can I stop by again tonight?”
“Probably not a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because, I can’t figure things out this way. Everything’s too close; I need some space.”
“Space. Great. Just what every guy wants to hear.”
Another teammate of Luke’s yells over. Luke glances back, sees the guy heading our way.
“Look, I get that you’re confused,” he says, talking faster because we’re running out of time. “I feel it, too. Except, there’s one thing I can’t let go of.”
I wait; I don’t want to miss what he’s going to say. His teammate gets closer, and Luke starts backing away from me. He’s leaving.
“You,” he says, watching my face.
His teammate yells to him, throws his hands wide to show his impatience, and Luke goes before I have time to respond. I don’t want to lose him, either, but maybe he doesn’t know that anymore.
Twenty-Two
To Witness
Tuesday is the second day back at school, and all told, it doesn’t go much better than the first one did.
It starts with a Luke sighting before classes begin, but no actual eye contact. He’s already in the room when I get to Spanish class; our gazes hold for a single beat before he looks away. I was the one who asked for this space, so I have to accept it. I’m also the one to leave class as soon as the bell rings, hoping he’s figured out how to finish his assignments without my help.
In the lunchroom, he passes by my table, giving me a low, “Hey,” before continuing on his way. He barely looks at me, but my friends catch it anyway.
“What’d you do to Luke Owens?” Beth asks, vague irritation hardening her voice. She’s been bristly with me ever since I returned from being lost.
I glance her way. “Not a thing.”
“He looks like a puppy someone stepped on.”
I don’t like people who abuse animals and, also, I don’t really think I like Beth.
I narrow my eyes, considering a response, and Nina, sitting beside me, hisses into my ear. “I have to talk to you.”
We cross the cafeteria, step through a pair of glass doors and out into the wintry courtyard. “Beth is screwing Evan,” Nina tells me.
“Wow. Be clear, Neen. What are you trying to say?”
Nina winces. “Sorry, that was rough. It’s just freezing out here and I wanted to make sure you knew before any more time went on. I would’ve told you sooner, but since you still have no phone, and we’ve barely had a chance to talk by ourselves since you got back…” Her hands go out, palms up. “Helpless,” she says.
“Okay. Thank you. I appreciate the candor, but I’m no longer in the ‘caring about Evan’ group. He can screw whoever he wants.”
“Maybe so, but I’ve heard he’s determined to get back together with you.”
I laugh, sending a puff of hot breath into cold air. “Pretty sure I’d have something to say about it, if that were the case.”
“Well, he’s going to try, or so I’ve heard.”
“And poor ol’ Beth?”
“Beth’s a bitch. She’s been trying to hook up with Evan since before you two broke up. That’s another thing I’ve heard. That one came from Evan; I overheard him talking to Mike and Dylan the other day.”
“How nice of her.”
“Yeah, but…well, apparently Evan resisted, until you dumped him. Maybe he’s not as big a jerk as you thought?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I say, shivering. “Not interested. Beth can have him, and I’m freezing. Let’s go thaw.”
I tug on Nina’s arm and lead the way back to the glass cafeteria doors, only to realize—after pulling on them—that they’ve locked behind us. I turn to Nina. “Please tell me there’s another way back in.”
“You mean through that perpetually locked door over there, the one by the principal’s office?”
I step back from the doors, hoping to play it off until we can find an alternate escape route—maybe scaling the courtyard’s walls?—but it’s too late. Floor-to-ceiling windows flank the doors on either side, all along the wall, so people have already caught on. There’s a finger or two pointing at us, a couple of laughing faces. Someone rises from a nearby table and starts heading our way. Luke.
“Oh, Layla, look at him,” Nina says, her eyes throwing off sparks of delight. “He’s coming to your rescue.”
Luke has his back to everyone else, and his gaze is locked on mine. What am I supposed to do, with him staring at me like that, while the whole cafeteria can see my reaction? I frown, slightly, and lower my head.
Luke arrives, opens the door, and stands there holding it for us. “You two were starting to look cold.”
Nina goes through first. She grins up at Luke, thanks him. I thank him, too, more quietly, trying hard not to glower. My outer emotions seem to relate negatively with my inner; the more I feel for Luke, the worse my reaction. If he ever gets around to kissing me in public, I’ll most likely turn into a gargoyle.
“Anytime, Layls,” he tells me. The words are quiet, but their strength reaches out with the power of an embrace.
I have to do better, find some kind of balance that works. This place isn’t going to change, and neither is our history—recent or distant. People won’t stop watching, at least not for a while. Maybe not until the next pair of students gets stranded and rescued.
Even as I think this, I’m raising my head to glance around the cafeteria, trying to get my bearings. Who has been studying our interactions, weighing our words and looks?
Several faces are turned this way, but one stands out from the others, its glare sharp and calculated to produce effect: Marissa Moore’s.
♦ ♦ ♦
Art is my last class, which means I typically get to end the day on a good note—good, with one caveat: I have to avoid my teacher, who’s on a mission to find out why I won’t apply to art school. She apparently remembers some of my photographs from art shows during my elementary school years, and “just can’t understand why I’ve abandoned my truest gift.”
Today, I’m in a back room, which serves two purposes: it puts me out of my teacher’s sight and mind, and allows me to catch up on an overdue ceramics project. I’m presently trying to shape clay into the elegant curves of a bowl.
The cool, slippery mass whirls on the wheel, rising and swelling beneath my changing pressure, but my head isn’t with my hands. There’s more than pottery work happening in this little closet of a room. The dimness, and the quiet here, have my mind wandering. I’m remembering the cabin, and I’m missing Luke.
The door creaks open behind me, but I don’t bother turning. This room links two art studios; it’s basically an oversized cubbyhole, where supplies and pottery wheels and drying racks for paintings are kept. People come and go—not often, but enough. I can’t expect to be left alone in here, even though the rest of my class is supposed to be getting a demonstration on our next glazing technique.
“Does this mean we finally get our Ghost moment?”
I know the voice, recognize the smile in it, too. Luke. Maybe I’ve summoned him with my thoughts.
“What are you doing?” I glance at him, wary, as he comes around by my side.
“Watching.”
“I mean, why are you here?”
He holds my gaze, answers without the hint of a smile. “I missed y
ou.”
I feel the familiar tug inside me, but I can’t trust that it won’t betray me into doing something I’ll regret. “How’d you get past my teacher?”
“She was working on something, with everyone crowded around her. Never saw me, and I even had a fake note from the nurse to get you out of class. I asked some kid where you were.”
“But aren’t you supposed to be in class?”
He shrugs. “It’s just gym. The teacher’s my assistant coach, so he doesn’t care if I miss.”
Preferential treatment, part of Luke’s star-athlete thing. My old response to that would be anger, or at least a bile-filled thought, particularly since I’m having to pull overtime in Phys Ed after missing the ski trip with its promise of extra credit. Today, I’m too overwhelmed with other feelings to care about Luke’s VIP status. “Still. You shouldn’t be here,” I tell him.
“Your mouth is saying that, but…” He squints at me, draws back. “Um, yeah, your eyes are saying it, too. Pissed at me, are you, Layls?”
How does he do it? Disarm me, melt whatever coldness I’m trying to throw his way. “No, Luke. I’m not pissed.”
He leans closer once again. “Aah, there it is.”
“What?”
“You’re missing me, too. That’s what I see in your eyes now.”
“So?”
“So, show me how much.”
He comes closer and touches my hair, guides it back, behind my ear. He bends, trails light kisses along my jawline. My bowl collapses sideways on the wheel.
“Luke,” I say, through a sigh, “you shouldn’t—”
He kisses my mouth, kisses away my protest, and the door opposite us opens.
We both freeze. Luke pulls away from me to stand, and we stare at the occupied doorway in unison.
Nina is there. Her mouth falls open, before erupting into an enormous smile.
“I found the uh…acrylics,” she calls, tilting her head slightly toward the studio at her back, the place where she has her Paints and Pastels class this period, while managing to keep her eyes riveted on us. She steps into the room, pulls the door closed behind her, and keeps her hand on the doorknob, still grinning.
“Oh my.” Her eyes are bright, sparkling, even in the faintly lit room. “I suspected, but it’s so much better to witness. This is…delightful. Awe-inspiring, even.”
Luke laughs, and I jump up from the pottery bench, muddy hands and all, feeling exposed. “Nina. This has to stay in this room.”
“You’re telling me,” she says, flipping her hair back over both shoulders and sashaying slowly over to us. I envision a cobra closing in on its dinner. She’s going to make the most of this. “So, how long? Before, during, or after your little getaway?”
Luke smiles, moving back towards me with a towel in his grip.
“You keep your distance,” I tell him, but he starts wiping the wet clay from my hands, anyhow.
“God, I want a man who’ll do that for me.” Nina says it in a way that sounds like sex. She smiles at Luke, nods her approval.
“I thought you came in here for acrylics,” I say, pointing to a couple of paint-filled plastic tubs on the shelves.
“I did,” she says, without moving. “I’d rather hold you two hostage, at least until I’ve dragged out all the details…but I guess I’ll have to settle for all the naughty things my imagination can come up with, instead.” She winks at Luke and he makes a sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh.
“Don’t worry, her bark is worse than her bite,” I say.
“No, my bite’s pretty good, too.” She picks up the first tub of paints and, turning, heads back through the door. Just before it closes, she whispers, “This isn’t over. Not at all.”
“Close your mouth, Luke,” I say, once she’s gone.
He smiles, finishes wiping my hands. “You said all your friends hated me. She doesn’t seem to.”
“You noticed that, did you? Nina gives you a pass, because she thinks you’re too good looking to be as bad as the others say.”
“Really?” His eyes go to the door Nina just closed. “Should I go make sure?”
I shake my head. “No way. She’d devour you whole, leave me only the crumbs.”
“Well, I’d rather be devoured by you anyway, so…”
He leans down and catches my mouth in another lengthy kiss. All I want to do is wrap my arms around his neck and let the kiss go on and on and on, but I have no choice but to pull back. “Luke, it’s not safe here. I think we just discovered that.”
He sighs. “Yeah, better go, before it gets too hard to say good-bye.”
I smile at him, watch him drape the clay-smudged towel over the edge of the pottery table. “All clean,” he says, nodding at my hands as he backs away from me.
“Right.” I reach out to pick up my wilted bowl. “Just in time for me to start all over again.”
♦ ♦ ♦
“So, I hear Evan Dando is trying to get back together with you.”
This is the first thing Luke says, after climbing in through my window. I’ve just finished talking to Nina, thanks to my newly repaired cell phone, having finally answered her “before, during, or after the mountains” inquiry with a “not before and, so far, not much after” reply. Now it seems I have at least one new question to address.
“Hi, Luke. How are you?” I ask as he rubs his arms and blows into his hands. Having backed up as he stepped into my room, I’m now unsure of where to stand.
“Sorry. Hi, Layls.” He unzips his sweatshirt and reaches for me, dragging me forward into his hug. For probably a full minute, he stands there, holding me close, until I finally relax into his embrace. “That’s better,” he says.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I tell him. “I feel lost, whether you’re with me or away.”
“Just remember: this, right here, is where you belong.” I smile into Luke’s shoulder and he adds, “Sorry, that was cheesy, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t care,” I tell him and, really, I don’t.
“So,” he says, “about Evan…?”
“Luke, I have no idea what Evan-not-Dando thinks or wants. It doesn’t matter to me. You’re what I think about, what I want.”
He pulls back so he can see my face. “Oh? You want me? Right here? Now?”
I ignore his teasing; he knows here and now isn’t an option. “Since we’re expressing our concerns, here’s mine: Marissa. Have you talked to her, yet?”
“I did. After school. I think she got it, finally.”
“Really? How’d she take it?”
“Uh…not well. Not well at all.”
I nod. “She looked like she wanted to kill me when you let Nina and me back into the cafeteria, and that was before you told her…so, do I need to leave the country or what?”
“I’ll handle her, if anything needs to be handled.”
“No, you should handle me, instead.” Now, who’s being cheesy?
“That can be arranged.”
Luke tilts up my chin and kisses me, softly. He looks into my eyes the whole time and I look back into his. It’s strange to feel so close to him now, and millions of miles away all day in school. Things may be getting better, but there’s plenty of room for improvement.
Just as he lowers his mouth to mine again, his arms sliding around my back to pull me up against him, my bedroom door opens and in walks my mom.
“Oh. Layla.” She’s holding a laundry basket; her eyes go from me to Luke, and back to me. “I did some of your laundry. I forgot you were home or I would have knocked…” she glances at the door and then her gaze returns to Luke’s red face. He’s released me and is standing at my side, looking like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He finally shoves them into his sweatshirt pockets.
“Lucas—Luke—Owens?” my mom asks, her gaze flicking to me for confirmation.
“Yes,” Luke answers. “Hi, Mrs. Marshall.” He steps forward to shake her hand, but the laundry basket’s in the way
, so he takes it, puts it on my bed, and returns for the handshake. The whole thing is a dance of awkwardness and I watch it in silence, too embarrassed to be amused.
“Luke, you’ve, um, grown since I last saw you,” my mom says, her gaze darting from his feet, up six-foot-something inches, to his head, at least a foot above her own.
She turns to me. “So. Layla. You and I need to talk. Say goodnight to Luke.”
Luke looks at me, his eyebrows lifting. An uncertain smile flickers over his mouth. “’Night, Layls.” He leans toward my lips, thinks better of it, and redirects his kiss to my cheek. He gives me a final, brief gaze before turning to head for the window. My mom intervenes.
“Luke. The front door this time?”
“Oh. Right.” He laughs, sneaking me a wink as he leaves my bedroom.
“Jared?” my mom calls down the stairs after him. “Can you help Luke find the front door? He got lost and came in through Layla’s window by mistake.”
We wait while two male voices share what sounds like some awkward greetings, and then my mom turns back to me. Her face is tight, her expression closed off, unreadable.
“You and Luke? No more Evan?”
“Yes to Luke. Sort of. And Evan’s a jerk.”
“Can’t say I follow, Layla.”
“Well, enough said about Evan, really. And as for Luke, we got closer when we were at the cabin, but at school…things are different there. It’s complicated.”
My mom sits on my bed. Gives a stiff pat to the spot next to her.
“I’m not sure how I feel about this sudden romance,” she says as I seat myself beside her, “but I’m surprised you’ve decided to care what anyone else thinks.”
My lips tighten. “Just because I like to do things my own way doesn’t mean I don’t care what other people think.”
“True, but that’s never stopped you from being your own person and making your own choices, even in relationships. Has it?”
I remember the way I withdrew from my classmates after the rumors spread about my dad and Luke’s mom, the heavy black makeup I began wearing after my dad’s last affair, the way all that pressure from Evan got to me…but my mom’s already moving on to her next point.
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