Luke’s face turns fierce. “Leave. Now.”
The kid steps back and tries to laugh. “Just a joke.”
“God, I’m so sorry,” Luke says as soon as we’re alone. “I could’ve done more…maybe I should have, but if I lost it on every guy that said something today…”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
“You’ve been going through this shit all day.” It’s a statement, not a question. He has to know I have been.
“You could say that.” You could say much more, but I don’t feel like it.
He takes a step towards me, but I stiffen.
“Luke, don’t.”
“Why not? Everybody knows now.”
“I’m just not up to more fallout. The cheerleaders are over there, working on that ‘if looks could kill’ thing, and I’m afraid they’ll get it right one of these times.”
Luke shakes his head. “If I hadn’t kissed you…”
“If you hadn’t kissed me, I probably would’ve kissed you. The rumors everyone’s spreading? They were just looking for something to pin on us.” On me, mostly, but that part ought to be understood.
“You’re right. This’ll blow over eventually, and in the meantime, we can’t let it come between us.”
My eyes have left his face, even before he’s finished speaking. I give him a vague nod and tell him goodbye as I turn away, but I can’t help having my doubts. Even if these rumors aren’t strong enough to separate us, I can’t ignore how he’s repeatedly put Marissa’s feelings ahead of mine.
Maybe Luke and I aren’t who we were in the mountains. Maybe we only seemed to be that couple.
Or maybe Evan touched upon the truth: could be I’m an easy piece of ass, after all, and maybe that’s what Luke thought he needed, for a time.
♦ ♦ ♦
I share a few back-and-forth texts with Nina and Josie throughout the evening, but Luke doesn’t stop by or call. Just before bed, I get a message from him.
Sorry. Training ran long. Lots of homework. Night, Layls.
I sleep, I wake, I find myself in Friday. Luke and I have nearly survived the week, but I doubt I’ll see him over the weekend.
It turns out I barely even see him during school. He isn’t in Spanish or lunch; the first time I spot him is near the end of the day, when the school gathers in the gym for some kind of assembly—school spirit or something along those lines. It seems kind of thrown together, but at least it gets us out of class.
I sit on the bleachers, an invisible swath of shame marking a circle around me, a space where no one else will dare to enter, save Nina. If I wasn’t certain this girl was my best friend before, I now have a visual aid to hold onto forever. Josie shows up and comes to join us, proving her friendship can never be underestimated, either, while Beth does nothing more than shoot me a dirty look, from where she’s sitting beside Evan. Things are as they were bound to be, I guess.
I try not to search for Luke, especially while people are watching. They’ll know exactly who I’m trying to find. Several football players come up from the locker room together and my gaze insists on going over them, regardless.
Luke’s in the back, looking more worn out than I’ve seen since our later days in the mountains. I know he’s under stress, but I worry again about the effect all his training has been having on him physically, especially with his concussion. If he won’t go to a doctor on his own, I’m going to insist on taking him myself. Relationship or lack thereof, I care too much about him not to intervene.
The principal says a bunch of stuff about the school and some more things about upcoming events. I’m beginning to think I was right about the assembly’s lack of purpose, when he starts talking about how he officially wants to welcome home two students who, recently, were feared lost for good.
Nina elbows me. “Get ready,” she says, and my palms start sweating.
“There’s no way he’s going to call me up there,” I whisper back.
She only grins.
“…and we want to express how thankful we are that our seniors made it through that ordeal and came back to us safely. …Luke Owens, can you come over? And Layla Marshall, are you out there, too?” Principal McClary starts looking around, peering into the crowd of students, and Nina waves her arms like flags above my head, forcing me to reconsider her loyalty.
“Just go,” she says, pushing me out of my seat. I try to sit back down, but she leans over to take up as much space on the bench as possible. She smiles. “Go.”
Since Luke was sitting in the bottom row of the bleachers, he’s first to reach the podium at the center of the basketball court. Cheers go up for him—widespread, if lackluster. Luke half-lifts his hand. He never smiles.
I swallow my stomach, which has wedged itself somewhere near the top of my throat, and step down from the last bleacher onto the polished gym floor. Luke’s watching me, so I can either stay put, looking like a giant idiot, or I can go and stand beside him. To hell with everybody and whatever they’re thinking. I go.
The clapping stops as I walk—all except for my own private cheering committee of Nina and Josie—and by the time I reach Luke, scattered boos can be heard. The echoes of our parents’ affair are all around me once more, but this time, they have nothing to do with my dad or Luke’s mom.
“Screw you,” Nina calls out, lasering glares at various spots in the crowd.
“That’s it,” Luke says, under his breath. “Sorry,” he tells me, before leaning over to say something to Dr. McClary, who is busy trying to restore order. McClary hesitates, eyes blinking repeatedly at whatever Luke has said; he stares at me, and hands Luke the microphone. Every part of me that hasn’t already been devastated by this week, by this whole experience, cowers in anticipation.
Luke raises his hand and the room goes gradually quiet, probably more out of curiosity than anything else.
“Listen, I want to say something. You people out there, the ones who are booing and saying crap, the ones who are spreading the rumors about Layla and me”—murmurs lift into the air again—“you need to shut the—” he glances at the principal and pauses. “You need to stop. And I mean now. You have no idea what you’re talking about. Not that it’s any of your business, but Layla and I weren’t involved with anybody else when we got lost on that mountain.
“And, by the way,” he says, picking up momentum, “that word I just said—‘lost?’ That’s what happened. We missed the bus for the ski trip, so I drove us. I got us into an accident and we both got hurt. Layla took care of me, kept me walking around, so I didn’t freeze to death that first night. Things got pretty effing real out there. We were half-starved, we had to collect snow for water and deal with all kinds of other BS… But we got through it together and I am so sick of hearing the shit—sorry, Dr. McClary—the crap people are saying about her. She’s a good person, and she’s been a better friend to me in my life than anyone else, so quit being a bunch of judgmental assholes.”
He passes the microphone back to the principal, who speaks into it. “Language, Mr. Owens.”
“Yeah. Sorry,” Luke says. He turns to me. “I’m ready to go. You?”
I nod, slowly, and he holds out his hand to suggest that I lead the way. Unsure of myself, I force my chin to rise, and begin to cross the gym floor. Before I’m anywhere near the closest exit, slow clapping comes from somewhere in the bleachers. I look up and my eyes locate Nina. She’s standing, grinning, and her clap is loud and clear. Josie stands next to her and joins in. By the time Luke and I leave the gym, it’s actually spread to a few other people, here and there. Not many, but each one counts.
“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you,” Luke tells me, once we’re in the outer hallway, “but that needed to be said. Not that it’ll do anything.”
He doesn’t look well, so I ask, “Are you okay? Listen, I need you to promise me you’ll see a doctor, all right? I’m worried about you.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ve been feeling kind of rough lately…but mostl
y it’s all this crap. I didn’t think it would be this hard, that everyone would be so shitty.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t cause this.”
“No, but I can’t help feeling responsible. People are giving you a hard time, because of me. They don’t think we belong together…and what if they’re right?”
His eyes lock on mine. “Is that what you think?”
“I don’t know. But honestly, should it be this difficult?”
The crowd from the gym starts pouring from the stands, heading for the doorways, for us. I back away from Luke.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I need to go.”
Twenty-Five
With a Whimper and A Prayer
Iget another Night, Layls text again before going to bed.
This is how we’ll go out, I think, the way T.S. Eliot said it: with a whimper. So much weaker than a bang.
The weekend seems willing to prove me right. Saturday, I spend my day working at the record store; it’s my first time back, since being lost-and-found. Luke texts me, asking if I’m around, and on my break, I tell him I have to work until dinner, then I’ll have homework to do. Sucks playing catch-up, I text him. He doesn’t reply.
Sunday, I end up covering a full shift for someone who’s called out, and end up more or less replaying the same day, with nearly the same set of back-and-forth texts. So, you didn’t have to work, but you’re there, anyway? Luke messages at one point, and when I try to explain, I feel like crying.
I miss you, he texts that night, and I do cry.
Then, around 4:30 a.m., my phone dings with a new text. My friends know how much I like my sleep, so I figure if someone is reaching out right now, it must involve something significant.
It’s Luke. I don’t remember ever having relayed the “no overnight texts unless straits are dire” rule to him. Another of many things we’ve never shared.
Are you awake? the message says.
I text back with one eye open. No. Sound asleep.
Sorry. Can I see you?
NOW?
Look outside. I’ll wait.
I look, then I return to my phone.
You mean the snow?
Yeah. Have to plow. Join me?
I don’t answer—I’m too busy figuring out if I want to leave the warmth of my bed to spend a cold, pre-dawn morning with someone I’m sort of avoiding—so he texts again.
Please?
Fine. Text when you get here.
I don’t bother changing out of the leggings and sweatshirt I wore to bed, but I do leave a note, in case my mom has trouble sleeping and discovers I’m missing, or, depending on how long this plowing thing takes, maybe I won’t be back until after she’s awake. It’s Monday, so I’m assuming school will either be delayed or closed, depending on the depth of the snow. At least I’ll know what the roads are like.
Luke texts that he’s arrived, so I leave the snugness of my house to step into coldness that makes my throat sting, and dark that makes me want to turn around and dive back under the covers. He has the light on in the cab of the landscaping truck, though, and he’s fiddling with something on the dashboard, probably the stereo. He looks up, peering into the dimness until he catches sight of me in the glow of the truck’s headlights. The way his eyes hold on draws me forward.
There’s low music by The Cure playing in the cab and the Disintegration album is resting in the console, so I already know what the playlist will be. Plus, he’s skipped ahead to “Lovesong,” which means “Pictures of You,” the song I played over and over years ago when I was consumed with missing him, won’t have a chance to make me sad. Couple this with the fact that the space inside the truck is already warm and cozy, and things are looking up.
“Nice ride,” I say.
“Thanks. It’s mine, for now. Joe said I can drive it as long as I keep working for him. When I’m not away at college, anyhow.”
His smile fades, and I don’t continue the conversation. College is another shadow looming ahead of us, and we have enough to battle for now.
Being in the snow with Luke is as familiar as the music, and the setting works its way into me, reviving thoughts of how things were such a short time ago. We don’t talk much, but it feels like a comfortable sort of silence. He takes my hand when he’s not shifting back and forth between drive and reverse, working the plow, and his fingers feel strong wrapped around mine, secure. How can so much tension exist between us at other times?
When Luke eventually plows his way through a sprawling neighborhood, the homes quiet and dark as though they themselves are sleeping, I’m feeling closer to him than I have since we first came home. He plows past the last of the houses and continues up the street, into a cul-de-sac, where only woods and road exist.
“They haven’t started building up here yet,” he says, turning to me as he parks the truck facing the trees. “Okay if we talk for a little while, before I take you home and finish my route?”
I nod. “That would be good.”
We unhook our seatbelts, turn to one another. Luke looks at me for a few long seconds, silent, and I guess I’m doing the same to him.
“Do I have to start?” I ask.
“No. I just kind of want to enjoy this, being here with you, before something goes wrong again.”
It’s true, what he’s saying, but hearing it hurts.
“I’m already screwing it up.” He reaches out to take my hand again. “I just wish things could be like they were in the mountains. Everything felt so natural, like when we were younger.”
“But the mountains weren’t real life, Luke, and maybe that’s the problem. I’m afraid it’s the real world we can’t handle.”
“The mountains weren’t real? We risked starving there. Layla, I almost watched you freeze to death, right in front of me.”
“But those problems, they brought us together. We might as well have been back in the tree house—it was just the two of us again, and never mind the rest of the world.”
“So? Why does the rest of the world get to come between us now?”
I don’t say anything, because I don’t have an answer.
“We need to figure this out,” he says, tightening his grasp on my hand, “because I can feel you slipping through my fingers and I don’t want to lose you. Not again.”
He’s right; it seems utterly crazy, how we let outside junk get in the way of this—of us. Right now, it feels like this closeness is the thing that should matter most in the world.
“Have I told you that I miss you, too?” I lean forward to kiss him, and he kisses me back, pulling me closer, but the center console’s between us.
“Back seat?” he asks, his eyes uncertain, and I smile before squeezing between the front seats of the truck’s extended cab, leading the way.
Luke climbs after me and draws me into his lap, putting his arms around me and kissing the top of my head. “This is all I want, right here,” he says.
When I look up, his kisses continue, stealing my breath, my thoughts. Hardly any time passes before we’re squirming out of clothing and he’s digging into his pants pocket, coming back with a condom.
“The last one?” I ask.
“I can get more.” His eyes hold mine. “Help me put it on?”
Things are frantic, at first: the kissing, the roaming fingers, the hands clutching at skin, but then there’s something that slows us and our gazes hold as the sound of our breathing fills the truck—nearer, more powerful than the music. Is there a way to live like this forever?
The challenges that happened since the last time we were this close become thin and flimsy, and even after the moving and seeking and building together is finished, we cling to one another, sliding one kiss into the next, unwilling to give in to our inevitable separation.
“I want to stay this close to you,” Luke says. He tightens his arms around me to hold me still, and I keep myself folded against him, wishing humans could hibernate. I’d stay like this with him
until spring. Year-round, if I could.
The CD begins playing its first song again, and a wave of anxiety passes over me at how long we’ve been together, calling to mind the shortcomings of birth control. But even as I slide off his lap, I think, either it will be all right or it won’t, because I’ve already found the date on my calendar, the one marked with the little star, and the fact is, I’m ten days late.
Twenty-Six
What This Is
It’s strange, realizing that the person down the hall, the one watching you, knows exactly what you look like beneath your clothes. But Luke’s not staring at my body; his gaze is locked on mine. The closeness we shared this morning—when we were alone in his truck, and afterward, when he dropped me off at my house and kissed me for a long time, parked in my driveway—tethers us to one another, despite all the other faces and voices and energies in the hall.
He makes his way to me through the crowd, his mouth tipping up toward a smile every time our eyes meet.
“Hey,” he says, his voice low and quiet, his breath warm on my ear as he edges past. “Meet me in the auditorium before lunch?”
He continues on his path, turning and walking in reverse, just so he can keep looking at me. There’s a softness in his smile, a memory of everything that has grown between us across the years, and seeing it makes me feel light inside, and strong. Maybe we will be able to hold onto whatever this is.
But if our bodies work so well together and our brains sync when we’re alone, how do things keep getting thrown off so easily?
I try to hold onto our closeness throughout the morning, fighting to block doubts whenever they arise. School was delayed by two hours, and classes have been shortened, which is making the day go faster. Some of the name calling and glares have eased since Luke gave his impromptu speech during Friday’s assembly, so that’s pretty helpful, too. Then there’s Luke himself, smiling quietly at me from across the room in Spanish, and that helps the most.
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