Sweet Nothing(28)

By Saturday morning, I still haven’t heard from him. Sitting in the courtyard in my pajamas, sipping an iced coffee and considering the remnants of Gwen’s takeout from last night, I face facts: Luke Poulos is ignoring me.

The list of possible reasons why are endless. He’s rethinking Wednesday’s we, or he’s freaked out by my wanting to talk. He thinks I’m kind of slutty for kissing him the way I did at the reception. Or he’s wised up; knows I’m not good enough. Whatever the reason, his sudden disappearance has left me feeling unsettled. Empty. It’s like I’m homesick for a guy I barely know.

I slurp my iced coffee and reach for a shriveled sweet potato fry. The sun is barely peeking over the horizon, and already trails of sweat slip down my collarbone. I’ve learned that early morning is the only acceptable time to be outside in Miami. I like it out here, especially when Gwen and Waverly are asleep. It’s the only part of my day that’s silent. Unless you count the incessant chatter in my brain.

For the zillionth time, my thoughts click back to Luke. Maybe it’s a good thing he’s backed off. A sign of some sort, a reminder that I can’t possibly consider a relationship right now. But what about the picture? What about how happy I looked? Shouldn’t that count for something?

Behind me, the patio door creaks open.

“I’msorryIwasstarvingandtherewasnothingelseinthefridge!” I squeal, whipping around and plastering on my best contrite roommate face. It’s unnecessary.

“Luke? What the hell? How’d you get in here?” The tie on my barely-there pajama shorts is undone. I whip it into a bow, yank down my threadbare Knicks t-shirt, then yank it up again. None of these movements hide the fact that I’m not wearing a bra, so I cross my arms over my chest like an irritated little kid. Which isn’t far from the truth.

Luke lifts his finger to his lips, shushing me in my own house. Then he turns and closes the door behind him. I forgive him long enough to stare at the way his ass looks in red swim trunks. A faded Allford Academy logo stretches across the back of his t-shirt.

“Listen. I know showing up here this early is borderline creepy,” he starts.

“Borderline?” Despite my tone, something in me fills up at the sight of him.

“But I slept in my studio last night, and since I was on campus I thought I’d swing by and see if you were up, and I knocked when you were banging around in the kitchen but you didn’t hear me, and anyway, the door was open—”

“Wait. Woah. Stop. You slept in your studio last night?” I wish I’d brushed my hair. Or put on lip gloss. My mother always told me to carry lip gloss, just in case. Score one for mommy dearest.

“I was playing catch up, since I’ve been out for the past couple days. And I fell asleep—” Luke’s lips twist into an amused half-smile. He slips off his aviators and tosses them on the table. “You had no idea I was out, did you?”

“What? No. Yeah. Of course I did.”

“You didn’t! You didn’t even notice I was gone!” He’s laughing, but there’s a brief flash of hurt in his eyes.

“No, I—I knew I hadn’t seen you around. I just thought maybe you were… busy with a show. Or something.” I should be worried about how bad I am at lying to Luke. Instead, I’m trying to remember whether I’ve brushed my teeth yet.

He shakes his head and drops into the seat next to me. Reaches for my coffee and drains it. “That’s your punishment. And in case you’re concerned, I was out because I had to take care of a sick family member. It was unexpected.”

“Oh.” I feel like a jerk. “Is…everything okay?”

He nods. “Just fine. And I didn’t come by to give you a hard time. I came by to ask you out.”

“Ask… me out?” Now? With no bra, morning breath, and tangled hair? I hate it when my mother’s right.

“Like, on a date. A real date.” He’s easy; matter-of-fact about the whole thing. Confident.

I can feel the smile on my face before my brain even registers his words. “Oh. A date. Okay. That would be…” Fun? Dangerous? COMPLETELY ILL-ADVISED? “..good.”

“Okay, then.” He reaches for his sunglasses. “You’ll need your bathing suit.”

“Wait. You mean, like, now?”

“Like now.”

“It’s just—I was just thinking—”

“So stop.” Luke tilts his head and squints at me in amusement. At least I think it’s amusement. I’m slightly distracted by the lines of his arms under his shirt. “Stop thinking, and start doing.”