Luke was all gruff and hard like stone. He needed to keep himself safe so he could heal, but maybe what he needs now is connection. He was probably waiting for it all along, waiting for a lighthouse to guide his lost ship back home in the dark. Argh, it’s a lot of pressure, and I can’t think like that. I just have to promise myself that because he dropped his guard, and we both just sense we need each other for no apparent reason at all other than we’d somehow be a perfect fit, I need to get it right.
Maybe the sixth sense is actually an impending sense of something glorious and right.
I promise myself that not only will I never hurt Shade; I’ll never hurt Luke either.
And I’m doing a lot of thinking over here while Luke’s hand is all over me, our bodies still pressed together, our breaths close enough to mingle. He waits for me because he’s patient and steadfast. Also, because he might be gruff, but he’s a lot of other things too.
“Do you feel like your heart is all shadows?”
Luke blinks. “I guess so. Sometimes.”
There are so many other words I don’t use—words such as lonely, alone, solitude, pain, and despair.
“Did you know the light of a single candle is enough to keep a person from freezing to death in the dead of winter if they get stranded, and it’s freezing?”
“No, I can’t say I did.” His lips waver at the corners. “We live in Florida, so I can’t say I’ve ever contemplated freezing to death.”
What I’m trying to say is maybe we can be that candle for each other, to thaw the cold. We’re like two hearts reaching out—sudden, abrupt, aching, and searching.
Ironically enough, I guess I have my parents to thank for this. Without them, I wouldn’t be here right now.
“Are you sure this isn’t a mistake?” I know I’m all over the place, but I have to be sure.
“It’s not.”
“I feel like we can’t just turn our emotions on and off.”
“We didn’t turn anything on or off. People change. Feelings change.”
“It hasn’t been enough time. How do you know for sure?”
Luke shrugs. My hand is still on his shoulder, and I can feel it rising and falling. My fingers are curled imperceptibly into the smooth cotton, searching for his warmth and smooth skin below as my thighs pulse at the thought. I wonder if there’s something wrong with me. The skin at the shoulder isn’t usually a turn on for most people, but maybe I have weird undiscovered fetishes.
“I don’t know. If you haven’t noticed, I don’t know much of anything lately. I want to have all these answers, but I don’t.”
I stare at Luke, and he stares back. I finally realize what I see on his face. It’s sincerity. That’s what it is. It’s not just clouded desire or a guy saying anything necessary to get in my pants. Not that I would ever think such things about Luke. I don't need to know him for years to know he’d never do that to me or anyone. Not now, never in the past, and not even if we were both young with zero experience and tons of hormones.
Somehow, I believe he’s sincere about not hurting me. People can be sincerely wrong, but maybe that would be both our faults or no one’s fault. Things happen, and I shouldn’t be contemplating endings before beginnings even start. I know that, but I also know I’m a planner, and I don’t want to cultivate disaster by just blazing through life, oblivious to other people.
This time, I have to be extra careful because of Shade, Luke, and my own fragile, searching, hopeful heart.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Can we go upstairs?” The words fly out of my mouth, falling all around us like scorching water in the shower because the tap was turned the wrong way. It’s shocking, burning.
“Yes,” Luke says slowly after a moment of contemplation. “Yes, it has a lock. And yes, we can go upstairs.”
“I’ll be totally silent.” I watch his lips twitch again, but to his credit, he doesn’t laugh at me. “No one will know, I promise. I…I can’t sleep in your bed after. I’ll go back to mine…”
“Yes. I know.”
“Well, maybe just a few hours. But not past three in the morning. Do you have a phone with an alarm that just vibrates? Is there someplace I can hide in case Shade gets up in the middle of the night and knocks on the door?” I feel like we’re planning for the perfect crime over here.
“Yes. And yes.”
“Where?”
“The closet,” Luke quips with a hint of a smile.
“How cliché.”
I should stop this. I know that. But I can’t because I don’t want to. I feel like I should give Luke one last warning, though, so I say, “You’re not the only one who feels exhausted, trying to be strong all the time. I might not have a well of hurt, but I do have painful little stings and cuts. Will you take me like that?”