Sweet Nothing (8 page)

“Thanks.” I force a smile. I wish I could tell Luke about my day, about my defunct bank account and Aria and everything else I worry about with my insane, broken family. Holding everything inside like this makes me feel like I’m going to explode.

“Wait.” I glance around the chapel. It’s empty. “Where is everybody?”

Luke’s laugh is warm. “Uh, they left. Like twenty minutes ago. You’ve just been sitting here daydreaming, so I thought I’d better not interrupt you.”

“Twenty minutes? Oh, God.” He thinks I’m a freak. Correction: I
am
a freak. A freak who has flashbacks in the middle of a perfectly good reception.

“No, not twenty minutes, weirdo.” He elbows me in the side. “The kids left a few minutes ago. Last I heard, Vi was telling everybody about a, and I quote,
kick ass party in South Beach
. So the place cleared out pretty quickly.”

“Oh.” I slap his leg, feeling relieved and idiotic at the same time. “So, basically, you got ditched for a better party.” He’s so close, his scent envelops me. He smells clean and salty. Warm. Safe. I let myself breathe him in.

“Nah.” The smile lines around his eyes crease slightly. “Kick ass SoBe parties be damned. I’d rather be here than anywhere else.” He reaches for my cup and tugs it gently from my grip, resting it on the coffee table. “And to tell you the truth, I’m glad everybody cleared out early.”

“Oh. Yeah. Me, too.” My mouth goes dry, and I search his face for meaning. Does he mean that he’s glad we’re alone? It’s what I want him to mean, the kind of wanting that reaches down deep and holds me captive next to him. And at the same time, I know the truth: Luke would never want a liar like me.

“So, it went well, don’t you think? I mean, the kids had a good time, and I loved seeing your place and everything.” I’m chattering, a nervous habit I’ve had since I was a kid.

“Yeah, it was a good time.” I can feel him watching me. When silence falls between us, he doesn’t fill it. Wanting tugs at my core. A warning sign.

“Okay. I should go.” I don’t move.

“Big plans tonight?”

“I think Gwen and Waverly are baking cookies.” My voice is high; lilts up at the end like I’m asking a question. I regret the childish words the instant they leave my mouth. And even more once Luke bursts out laughing.

“You know, you’re tough to read sometimes.”

“Yup, that’s me. Complicated. Many layers.” I stand to leave, but Luke reaches for my wrist, pulling me to seated again.

“Wait. I didn’t—I meant that in a good way.” He leans close, brushing my bangs away from my forehead. “It’s like, you’re this incredibly strong woman and this sweet little girl at the same time.”

Woman.
I don’t usually like it when guys use that word, but when it leaves Luke’s lips it sounds hot. And I like that he sees the kid in me too, the part of me that doesn’t have it all together. It’s like he’s glimpsed the real me, and he’s not turning away.

“I don’t feel strong,” I murmur. It feels good to tell the truth. “Not today, anyway.”

“Well, you obviously don’t see what I see,” Luke says softly. With both hands, he reaches out and strokes the studs in my ears with his thumbs. His fingers graze my neck, sending electric jolts through me. My body is warm, and strung so tight I don’t trust myself to breathe. I want him to kiss me. I want him to protect me. And I know I should leave, but I can’t.

“Luke, I—”

And then his hands are gripping my shoulders and he’s pulling me into him. And his mouth is on mine, so warm and sweet that my mind goes blank and my body is shaking with anticipation. I kiss him back, hard. In this moment, there is nothing standing between us: not my past, not my lies, not my deceit. There’s only Luke and me. His eyes, my mouth, his hands, my hips.

Luke’s tongue searches my mouth. Gentle but strong, exactly like him. I run my hands through his thick, dark hair, almost clawing at him. I want him so badly it aches. I lean back, let my head rest on the arm of the couch, trying to get my bearings as he explores me with his mouth: my neck, the hollow at the base of my throat, then the outline of my ear.

“I’ve wanted to do this since the second I saw you,” he whispers, his words soft on my neck.

I say nothing, just gasp as he bites my lip. Tracing my collarbone with his fingers, he stops, teasingly, just short of my breasts, but my nipples harden beneath the silk of my dress anyway. He notices and smiles.

I want to devour him. No. I want to give in to him, to let him take control.

His lips find mine again, and just as quickly, I feel the chill of air-conditioning where his warmth has been. My eyes snap open. He’s pulled away.

“Everything okay?” I sit up. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer, just watches me for a few seconds. My heart is still pounding in my ears.

“Yeah. Fine. Stay right there,” he instructs me, bounding off the couch. “Don’t move! I’ll be right back.” He cuts across the chapel and throws open one of the doors close to the entrance. A bathroom, I think. “Seriously! Don’t move!”

“Clearly, it was as good for you as it was for me,” I mutter under my breath, straightening my dress. It’s been a while since I’ve made out like that—okay, made out at all—but am I seriously rusty enough to send a guy running to the bathroom?

“Okay. I’m back. Just stay… right there. God, you’re beautiful.” Luke emerges holding a cylindrical oatmeal container wrapped in black duct tape.

“What the hell is that?”

“Pinhole camera, from my darkroom. I made it myself—takes awesome pictures.

Mind if I take yours?”

“Um, yeah. Sure. Fine.” Ignoring his instructions, I swipe at my bangs.

“Elle. Sloane. Stay. Still.” He tilts the container toward me, like he’s looking through a telescope, and peels a strip of tape away from the lid. “See, there’s this tiny little hole here, and when you peel the tape away, it lets light in and captures your image on photo paper.” He replaces the strip of tape and sets the camera on the coffee table.

“Well, I can honestly say that’s the first time anyone stopped making out with me to take my picture.” I punch him in the arm.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m a photography nerd. Didn’t mean to put the brakes on so fast. It’s just…” he collapses next to me and grins. “I want to remember you like this. You’re… I think you’re perfect, Elle.”

I search him for any sign that it’s a line, and find nothing but warmth in his eyes. So I do the unthinkable. I believe him.

Elle,

Sorry for inviting myself down there. I know you have your own life going, and you don’t need your pesky little sister cramping your style.

Besides, things are starting to get a little better here. Kylie and Liz invited me out the other night—we just had a couple drinks at that karaoke place in the Village where they don’t check IDs. It felt like things were getting back to normal. Maybe school won’t be so bad after all.

Love you for infinity,

A

Gwen’s at the kitchen table when I get home, surrounded by a stack of papers, legal pads, three back issues of
In Touch,
and a mason jar of iced tea. She manages to look hot in a full set of blue and white-striped men’s pajamas, and her brunette waves are twisted around a red colored pencil. She whistles softly when she sees me.

“Pretty dolled up for a Tuesday night, missy.” She nudges one of the kitchen chairs with a bare foot and motions for me to sit. “Where’ve you been?”

Trying to hide my grin, or at least disguise it as a casual I JUST WENT TO A SCHOOL-SPONSORED ART RECEPTION AND DRANK GINGERALE! NOTHING ELSE HAPPENED!-smile, I kick off my sandals and flop onto the chair.

“Nowhere.”

She leans back, surveying me from head to toe. “Just… ‘nowhere’? That’s what you’re going with here? You’re a sucky liar, you know that?”

I pretend not to hear her and reach for her jar of tea. I need something to do with my mouth. I’d prefer that something to involve Luke, but he’d dropped me off just a few minutes ago with a sweet, quick smooch. Had told me that while he wanted me to stay, he also wanted to take things slow. Which I both loved and hated.

“Easy, chickadee. It’s spiked,” she warns as I lift the frosty glass to my lips, which feel bee-stung from Luke’s playful bites. “I can’t grade these summer reading tests on straight iced tea.”

Then she goes silent, waiting me out as I take a long swig. I want to tell her where I’ve been. In fact, I want to tell her everything. But there’s no use saying the words out loud.
I kissed Luke Poulos tonight. And it. Was. Magic.
If I say it, then it’s real. Something, when I know that there can be nothing between us.

Still, it felt like a pretty fucking incredible nothing.

“Okay. I…went to the art reception for the summer session,” I admit, looking everywhere but directly at Gwen. There are two chocolate chip cookies on a burned cookie sheet on the stove, and our Chinese takeout containers from the night before are still sitting on the counter.

“Wasn’t that at Luke’s place? And wasn’t it for art faculty only? I think Waverly tried to score an invite, and he said he wanted to keep it small.”

When I give in and look at her, Gwen taps her nose ring knowingly, her brow furrowed with amusement. She’s on my side. Not that Luke is a competition. And if he were, I’d be winning. I can’t help but gloat a little that Luke wanted me there—
me—
and not Waverly.

“Look. He probably asked me since I’m new, and he’s my mentor, and he figured I don’t have anything else to do, and—”

“And he wants to, like,
know
you. In the Biblical sense.”

I snort. “You are such a dork.”

Gwen sighs. “No, I’m just spaced-out from reading too many essays. Although this one is actually good. Listen.” She reaches for a typed essay at the top of her stack and reads aloud. “In William Faulkner’s LIGHT IN AUGUST, the theme of the isolation of man is significant. Most of the characters in the book bring isolation on themselves, but Joe Christmas’s isolation is not totally his fault. Society is also to blame.” When she looks up, her eyes are sad. Haunted.

“I never read LIGHT IN AUGUST,” I say quickly. Suddenly, it feels like I’ve glimpsed a part of Gwen that I shouldn’t see. I look away, and my mind flicks to the textbooks in my leather tote. I should be prepping for class tomorrow. Instead, all I want to do is get a little tipsy on tea, flop into bed without taking my clothes off, and think about the way Luke’s mouth felt on mine.

“Neither did most of my students,” Gwen groans. The trace of sadness is gone from her expression. “And I’m not that much of a hard ass. It’s like, read the book, don’t take your summer reading test stoned, and you probably won’t get below a B-. My new school year’s resolution is to get less than five parent phone calls this year.”

“Admirable.” I nurse the spiked tea. My body is starting to shift from wired to worn out. “At the rate I’m going, I’ll get to five before the week is out.” I push back my chair. “Good luck with these. I’ve got to get some sleep.” I head for the door.

“Oh. Wait. Ellie?” Gwen calls behind me. “About this afternoon…are you… okay?”

The declined debit card. My quick escape from the coffee shop. The phone call with Aria. It seems like it all happened weeks ago, instead of earlier today.

“Oh. Yeah. I’m really sorry about that.” I turn. “I didn’t mean to freak out. I just—I don’t know, money is kind of a weird thing for me, and—”

“It’s fine.” Mercifully, Gwen cuts me off. “I just wanted to make sure you were cool. Sucks when things get tight like that. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Promise.”

“Oh, and speaking of dough…” She tugs her bag from underneath the table and rummages through it. “When I went back to your classroom to get my jacket, I found this.” She produces my money clip and holds it in the light, examining it. “You left it on your desk. It’s gorgeous.”

“Oh! Thanks.”

“But…” Gwen tilts her head in confusion as she examines the clip. “It’s yours, right?”

“Yeah. My mom gave it to me. Why?”

“It’s just… the initials. Yours are
E, something, S,
right? But these are—”

My blood runs cold. How could I have been so stupid? “ESH. I know.” I swipe the clip from her fingers and close my fist over it until I can feel the cold metal digging into my skin. “Actually, it was my maternal grandmother’s, so these are her initials, and my mom passed it down to me.” My heartbeat triples.

“Oh. Okay. Cool.” Gwen seems to accept my explanation, but I can feel her eyes on me as I duck out of the kitchen and make a break for my bedroom. Close the door behind me and lean against it, trying to slow my breath.

What am I doing? I’ve lost focus. I’ve let Luke get in the way, which has made me careless. If I keep it up, I’ll slip again, which will eventually leave me exposed. That can’t happen, no matter how sweet or sexy or creative or good Luke Poulos is. He may be all of those things, but is he worth jeopardizing everything?

I whip my dress over my head and toss it on the floor, diving between my sheets without brushing my teeth or washing my face. I can still feel Luke’s scent on me, his warmth. I don’t want it to fade. I drift off with the light still on, promising myself that tomorrow, I’ll pull back. Break it off. I can’t let things move forward between Luke and me.

My sleep is fitful again. There’s the usual nightmare about my mother, then a brief flash of my father behind bars. And then, in the same dream, Luke. Only it’s not Luke, not the way he is now. In the dream he’s a teenager, with the same clear blue eyes and thick, dark hair. He’s lying down in the middle of a two-lane highway. And I’m standing on the side of the road, paralyzed in fear as a semi-truck barrels toward him. I’m screaming, but he can’t hear me. As the truck picks up speed, he turns his head toward me. His eyes are pleading. Glassy. I want to save him, but I’m powerless. In the last second, he mouths my name.

Elle,

So… this faculty “mentor”. You do realize you’ve mentioned him in, like, every Email you’ve written since you got there, right? Details, please!