by Hotcheri
I gave a silly laugh. “You’re not a very good stalker then,” I pointed out. “A good stalker knows where its prey is at all times.”
“You sound like you’ve done it a lot.” Double entendre, right there. As if realizing how that sounded, Luke chuckled. “I mean, stalked people.”
I shook my head. “I read a lot of books,” I admitted.
“Uh huh.” Still grinning, Luke gave me a highly amused look, as though he knew that I was lying, but he was just going to humor me. I bristled. This ‘thing’ needed to stop.
I stepped further into the room, suddenly realizing how small it was. And how private. And how my thoughts kept going from bad to worse. “So, okay, you’re here. I’m here. What did you want with me?” I asked curiously.
“Well, I guess I came to take you up on your offer,” Luke said after a beat.
I drew a blank for a long second. What offer? For the life of me, I couldn’t remember. And I knew my temporary loss of memory had something to do with Luke, damn him. All he was doing was sitting on the piano bench, oblivious about how he was making butterflies soar in my stomach. Why the hell did I have butterflies in my stomach?
As I was opening my mouth to ask, “What offer?” I suddenly remembered. That offer. Was he serious? Or was he just here to laugh at me again?
“You know, you offered me a shoulder to cry on,” he reminded me. “I’m here to collect.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You laughed at me when I said that!”
He eyed me through his disheveled hair. “I’m not laughing now,” he said simply.
I bit my lip. He was right. He wasn’t laughing. In fact, in spite of the jokes he had a rather down look on his face.
Taking a deep breath and cursing my compassion, I went to sit next to him. He shot me a lopsided grin and I spared him a closer look.
“Are you feeling okay?” I asked hesitantly.
Well, of course he wasn’t feeling okay; what with the news he received yesterday! Up close, I saw that he had dark circles under his eyes and was pale under his tan.
He looked at me, leaning back against the piano. “You have really nice eyes,” he whispered.
My heart did a somersault. “Thanks,” I whispered back, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. OMG, he’s flirting with you. He’s just being nice, mind! But I can dream, can’t I?
“And in answer to your question, I feel like crap.” He gave me an endearing sideways glance. “I probably look like crap too, huh? Admit it.”
“You’ve looked better,” I confessed.
He winced as he shifted to look at me better.
“Is it a headache?” I blurted out. “I was reading up on aneurysm’s last night and-.”
Ugh. Crap.
Luke grinned. “Because of me? Aw, I’m flattered!”
He actually looked quite pleased at the revelation that I had been reading up on his symptoms, not realizing how stupid I felt revealing it. I hated to burst his bubble, but Celsi Sawyer had to save face. Sure, the only reason I’d been looking up aneurysms and their symptoms was because Luke had one, but the less he knew about that, the better. Then maybe you should learn to keep your mouth shut. Good idea.
“What? No, I was doing research! For- Science class...”
My voice trailed off as Luke chuckled, a little color returning to his cheeks, which was good but didn’t stop the fact that he was laughing at my expense. Again. But this time, I didn’t blame him. Research for Science class? Ack, so lame. We were in the same Science class, for Pete’s sakes! And he knew it.
“It’s okay; you don’t need to lie to me.” He patted my knee gently and I tensed, looking up at him just as he was looking down at me.
Green eyes met hazel and we stared at each other for a long, heart thumping second until I finally managed to wrench my eyes from his and stare down at my feet, trying to slow my pounding heart. As though he hadn’t noticed the ‘moment’ we had just shared (probably he hadn’t, guys can be so unaware of such things) he continued. “Caring is sharing.”
“That doesn’t really work,” I said absently. His hand still rested lightly on my knee and I should have been enjoying how it felt there. But instead of thinking about how nice it felt sitting right next to Luke and having him touch me (even though to him, putting a hand on my knee probably didn’t mean a thing) all I could focus on was how the heat from his hand was blazing through my denim clad knee.
Before I could stop myself, I pressed my hand firmly against his forehead, brushing aside his soft hair. His body tightened then relaxed as he gave me a sideways look that I ignored. Now I knew why he apparently wasn’t feeling the cold like I was.
“Luke, you’re burning up!” I exclaimed.
He nodded slightly. “I know. Can you just keep your hand there, please? It feels so good!”
I didn’t remove my hand (hey, he asked me not to) but I bit my lip, worried. His forehead was feverishly hot and he just didn’t look too good at all.
“You should seriously call someone to come pick you up,’ I told him. “I mean, it’s obvious that you don’t feel well at all.”
He closed his eyes. “Maybe I’m just tired,” he said in an unconvincing tone. “I got less than 5 hours sleep last night.’
I gave him a quick look and determined that he wasn’t lying (even though why anyone would want to get less than 5 hours sleep escaped me). “You just found out that you’re sick. You should be at home, resting!”
And getting more than 5 hours sleep. I shuddered. Just the thought of that gave me chills. Luke was far braver than I was. I got cranky if I got less than 7 hours of sleep.
Luke chuckled lightly. “You might be right,” he replied.
I frowned. “Why did you even come into school today?”
I had to move my head closer to hear his mumbled answer, but even then I wasn’t sure I heard him right. It sounded like he said “Because my dad is an egomaniacal jackass,” but that couldn’t be right.
“Don’t you have any medicine, then?” I asked, establishing that he probably didn’t want to go home. That surprised me. Usually, Luke rarely showed up at school. Maybe his illness was making him turn over a new leaf.
“Yeah, I do. Robyn gave me some pills,” he replied and I heaved a sigh of relief.
“Did you take them?” I asked.
Usually, Robyn’s migraine pills were fast acting (she really needed them to be, her headaches attacked without warning) but maybe because of the cause of the headaches, they were taking longer to act on Luke. I hoped not, though. He looked like he was really in pain, even though I sensed he was trying to be brave and shake it off. But I knew from experience (with Robyn) that headaches couldn’t just be ‘shaken off’ just like that.
Luke shook his head. “Not yet,” he said, using his hand to shield his eyes against the light as he opened them. “Ugh, that light hurts. Do they have a dimmer switch in here?”
“No,” I said, stifling a laugh. “Look, I’ll go get you some water to drink your meds with, okay?” I removed my hand from his forehead. “You’re scarily hot, and not in the good way.”
I got to my feet, picking up my bag. I was almost at the door when Luke said “Are you sure?”
Turning to face him, I gave him a questioning look. “About what?”
He kneaded his forehead with both hands. “That I’m not scarily hot in the good way?”
I grinned. “I’m sure.” Liar. So shoot me, I was lying! “Just wait right there, okay? I’ll be right back.”
“Trust me, I’m not even thinking of going anywhere right now,” Luke replied, leaning back and closing his eyes again as I scurried out into the hall, heading for my locker.
Once there I grabbed one of Robyn’s cold compresses (I’m her own personal nurse. My locker is as well-equipped as a medicine cabinet, if not better) then went to a nearby water fountain and filled up a paper cup with cold water. Then I rushed back to the music cubicle, feeling efficient and organized and compassionate and well- just
like Florence Nightingale must have felt when she tended to her patients. I felt good about myself, using my time to help the needy.
And since I’m sure that none of Florence nightingale’s patients were as much eye-candy as Luke was, I felt inclined to believe that in that respect, I was luckier than her.
I found him sitting in the same position, playing around with his cell phone. I handed him the cup, sitting down next to him again. “Drink up,” I instructed.
“God, CiCi, thanks.” He popped the pills into his mouth, raised the cup in my direction in some sort of toast and drank deeply.
I pressed the compress against his forehead and he groaned sexily, even though he obviously didn’t mean it to be sexy and I was just reading way too much into it, as usual.
“CiCi, you gotta tell me something,” he murmured, closing his eyes.
“What?” I asked, absently brushing his hair back from his brow till I realized what I was doing. Mortified, I stopped and just held the compress against his forehead.
“Are you an angel in disguise?”
The question was so unexpected that I snorted with laughter.
“No, I’m just a regular girl,” I replied once my giggling fit was over. Luke grinned.
“You can’t be,” he argued. “No normal girl carries cold compresses with them to school. Not that I’m not glad you have one, coz it feels so good.”
Me, an angel? Celsi Sawyer from Spanish Harlem, an angel? That was a good one.
I shrugged. “I carry them because of Robyn,” I explained to him.
He opened his eyes, looked at me and smiled. “You’re a good friend. And you’d make a good nurse.”
“Thanks.”
“Am I weirding you out that I’m here?” he suddenly asked, changing the subject rapidly.
“Well, a little bit,” I said, deciding to be honest. He was ‘weirding me out’ a lot, actually. I mean, sure, we’d had our share of run-ins, but that didn’t mean that he could just show up where I was at and decide to spend his whole lunch break with me. Which was exactly what he was doing.
“I just wanted to talk. Hey, I can take over with the compress.”
I took my hand off just as he put his hand on, our fingers brushing (again!) and giving me a strange little tingle in my stomach. That wasn’t right. It was nice, but it wasn’t right.
“Luke, no offence but- you have friends. Lots of them. Why would you choose to talk to me over them? That doesn’t make any sense.” I spread my hands in front of me. “I mean, you barely know me.”
He nodded, waving a finger in the air. “Good argument. But you’re the only person at this school who knows about the- aneurysm.”
He whispered the last word, which I thought was rather cute.
I raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Really? You haven’t told any of your friends?” No wonder he was acting so shady. “Don’t you think they’d be more help to you than I am?”
Luke shot me a cute grin. “I don’t see any of my friends cooling down my forehead.” Good point. “What do you think they’d do if I told them I was sick?” he continued.
I shrugged noncommittally. “I have no idea,” I replied, even though I could imagine. People like Ahmed, Wendy and Joanna weren’t exactly known for their sympathetic natures.
Luke scooted closer to me so that my leg was pressing against his. The concept of personal space is lost on this one. Still, it felt nice, which bothered me.
“Yeah you do,” he said softly. “Ahmed would be a dick about it. Joanna would treat me like fragile goods. Wendy would tell everyone. I don’t want that. It’s not gonna help.”
I nodded, totally understanding where he was coming from. They’d think he was different because he was sick and they’d treat him differently. That’s why he came to me, I realized, because at Dalton, I was different.
Luke lowered his head, staring unblinkingly at his hands, a brooding expression flitting across his face. “They’re good people, but they wouldn’t understand,” he continued slowly, sounding as if he’d just grasped that.
I felt sorry for him. When you knew that your best friends wouldn’t be able to understand what you were going through, that just wasn’t a good place to be at all. For months I had hid the truth about Nate and his destructive behavior at home, until I couldn’t take it anymore and had to confide in Robyn and Shazia. After telling them, I felt better because I knew they were behind me 100 percent. But Luke knew that if he confided in his friends, they would distance themselves.
I wished I could do something to make him feel better, to wipe that sad, dejected look off his face.
But all I could say was, “So why’d you come to me?”
Wrinkling his nose, he looked up at me. “You didn’t look at me weird when I told you yesterday. You’re not looking at me weird now.” He sighed and looked away into space. “I know it’s odd that you’re the first person I ran to, especially since I never talked to you before.”
I nodded. “Yeah, it kinda is,” I agreed. Still, there could be a logical reason this was happening... Impulsively I asked, “Do you believe in destiny?”
A grin tugged at the corner of Luke’s mouth as he looked at me, still holding the compress to his head. He looked considerably better than he had 5 minutes ago. Maybe I should become a nurse.
“Nope. I think it’s a ploy used by card manufacturers to sell lots of Valentine cards.”
“Oh.” My face fell (I felt it). Scratch that.
As if he knew what I was thinking (God, I hoped that wasn’t the case) he put a hand on my knee (again! Wasn’t there a limit to how much touch one could take?) and said, “I may not believe in destiny and things happening for a reason, but I really need a friend right now.” He gave me a shy look which almost made me melt into a fangirly puddle on the floor. “CiCi- can we be friends?”
I nodded. “Sure.”
How could I say no to a request as cute as that? It was so elementary school and I loved it!
Luke grinned widely and bumped against me with his t-shirted shoulder. “Thanks,” he whispered.
“No problem,” I whispered back.
We sat in companionable silence for several minutes before Luke turned to me. “You ever watch ‘The Bucket List’?” he asked, randomly enough.
“No.”
He grinned. “Me neither. But me and my best friend, we both made our own bucket lists two years ago.”
I frowned. “You and Ahmed?”
And here I was under the assumption that Ahmed thought he was immortal.
Luke shook his head. “Not Ahmed. Shane. You knew him, right?”
I nodded wordlessly.
Shane Newton. I remembered him. He had been Luke’s best friend; the two were always together, flirting with cute girls in the hallway. I had cried when I heard that he was dead. He’d been my study buddy for two weeks before his fatal accident and had been one of the nicer guys at this school.
“Yeah, well, before his - accident, he did over half of the things on his list.” He sighed. “I’ve done about 10 things on mine. I guess I should think about stepping up my game.”
“Stop thinking so morbid,” I scolded lightly. “You’re not going to- to die!”
Even though the websites I had been on seemed pretty grim (risks of stroke, coma, brain damage) Luke had to remain positive.
“There’s a strong chance that I could,” Luke said blandly. He removed the compress from his forehead, placing it on top of the piano. “So- if these last two months are my last, I want to spend them doing the things I always thought I should do, you know?”
“You’re gonna be just fine,” I said in a chiding tone. “In two months, you’ll be laughing at your pessimism and I’ll be saying I told you so.”
“I hope so.” Luke stretched his arms over his head. “That would be sweet. You know what, scratch nurse. You should be a motivational speaker.”
I smiled, pleased. “Or I could be both,” I said. Silence for a second. “When are you get
ting started on your list?”
“ASAP.”
“Well, if you need any help with it, you know where to find me,” I said and almost slapped myself.
Again with the kind offers, Celsi! What was with this guy, making me have random outpourings of niceness? Damn him, it must be the Irish Spring.
He looked surprised, then pleased. “I’ll hold you to it,” he said lightly. “Sorry for messing up your lunch.”
“Huh?” I said blankly.
“I mean, you came here to play, right? And I just hogged up your time. Sorry.”
“No worries,” I said. “Talking to you was- fun.”
“Yeah, but I feel bad for screwing up your lunchtime regime. Play something for me.”
“Say what?”
“On the piano. Play me a tune,” he explained affably. A naughty grin on his face, he nudged me. “That’s what friends do for each other.”
I laughed. “You are off to a really bad start,” I said, wagging my finger in his face. “That’s abuse of your friendship powers.”
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, the wicked grin still on his face, speeding up my heart rate.
“You’ll have to take a rain check. I- don’t have my sheet music with me,” I lied. I play by ear. The real reason I didn’t want to play for Luke is because I was very self-conscious about my piano playing skills. It took me a couple of months to find the nerve to play for Aunt Kelly and I lived with her, for Pete’s sake! Luke was going to have to wait till I trusted him not to laugh at me. To change the subject, I said, “Are you feeling better?”
He stood up, stretching lazily again. His t-shirt rose up, giving me a peek at his Pokémon boxers and I clapped a hand to my mouth to hide my smile. Luke’s just chockfull of cute surprises.
“Yeah, actually, I am,” he said over his shoulder, meandering over to the drum set in the corner.
I nodded thankfully. “Robyn’s meds are quick acting,” I commented, glad that they had worked for him. Turning on the bench to face the piano, I picked up the compress and slid it into my bag.