by Zoey Shores
“Don’t pry, Archer,” Lincoln laughs. It seems like Lincoln’s the levelheaded one, the voice of reason of the group. Obviously, Archer’s the instigator, good natured of one as he may be.
“No real story,” Luke answers. “We grew up together. I was from the wrong side of the tracks, always getting into trouble, she was the straight-A teacher’s pet. I had a crush on her for as long as I can remember, but always figured she was too good for me. It wasn’t until I made starting Quarterback in tenth grade and everyone started treating me like big man on campus that I was able to have the confidence to ask her out.”
“And then she turned you down, right? And you had to find some way of blackmailing her to go out with you?” Archer jokes.
Luke answers him with a roll of the eyes, and a smirk accompanied by a middle finger in his direction.
“I said yes, of course. I couldn’t believe Luke Tanner wanted to go out with me. I couldn’t believe that he saw me as more than a friend,” I say. “I still don’t really believe that story about how he had a crush on me for all those years. He was just trying to flatter me once we were together, I bet.”
The two and a half beers I’ve had might be making my lips a little more loose than I’d like them to be.
Luke pins me down with his eyes. His gaze falls hot on me, drawing blush to my face anew. “It was always true. You know that.”
Uh, did the temperature just pick up out here or it just me?
Though I can’t turn my gaze away from the magnetic pull of Luke’s eyes, whose rich green hue seems to shine through the darkness of the night, I hear Lincoln get up from his seat and let out a yawn. “I’d better be getting to bed,” he says.
“Yeah, me, too,” Chase joins in.
Are they, like, tastefully excusing themselves because they can sense that things are starting to get heated between me and Luke?
And am I excited or nervous that it’s so obvious they realize it, too?
My eyes are still unable to tear themselves away from Lukes gaze, even as Lincoln and Chase get up and head into the house, bidding us goodnight. Luke’s look is a mixture of softness and intensity. He’s trying to communicate something through his eyes, something too complex, too unsure, to be expressed in words right now.
I worry at the fact that I’m able to read that message loud and clear.
I’m able to look to my side to check on Rory, and see her and Archer standing up, hanging out and talking toward the side of the yard. Their body language and facial expressions are casual, but engaged.
“I’ve thought about you a lot since I got kicked out of school, you know?” Luke says, breaking the tense silence that had reigned over us for the last several minutes.
I can feel the buzz of the beer now, which only increases the feeling of unreality I’m experiencing.
“Me, too,” I answer, almost in spite of myself. I’m not sure I really want to be this honest with Luke right now, but the combination of the softness and charm of the night weather, the alcohol, and a strange, ethereal energy in the air seems to break down all my defenses and inhibitions.
Luke leans back in his chair, his eyes still locked on mine. A pensive and ambiguous expression descends over his face, which has become more obscured in shadows as the last remnants of late-evening light has dissipated from the sky. “Maybe I shouldn’t bring this up, maybe I’ve just been overthinking it,” he muses, before taking a brief pause and continuing, “Why didn’t you ever try to say hi last year? I mean, come on, it’s not like you didn’t know I was here.”
“I don’t know,” I answer, instinctively. A cop-out that really says too many reasons to list. “I guess I didn’t want to feel like, after all those years apart, I was trying to get back in with you now that you were a big star.”
Luke’s full, soft lips pull downward in a frown. “You think I’d think that?”
“I don’t know,” I answer again, feeling like a broken record. “I guess I felt bad about the fact that after you got kicked out of school, even though you still lived in the same town, the same house where you always lived for all the years we’d known each other, I never tried to go and talk to you or anything. Never tried to see you again …”
I trail off, feeling a weight off my back now that I’ve unburdened the thought that’s been saddling me with guilt ever since I got the news that Luke was being kicked out of school, abruptly ending our relationship by fiat.
“Come on, that’s not your fault,” Luke reassures me. He follows it up with a dry chuckle, “I’m sure your parents never would have allowed you to come within a mile of me after I got kicked out. Hey, I know they were never crazy about us going out in the first place.”
That’s an understatement. My parents were good to me, and I loved them, but, well, I can’t pretend that they can’t be stuck up about certain things. And when they found out I was dating the troublemaker from the bad side of town, a boy with no father at home and an infamous brother to boot, they weren’t the least bit enthused.
My feelings of guilt over what happened with Luke have been traveling with me for years. When we first started talking again this semester, I guess that whole ambiguity about what our new relationship was, or would be, kept me from really dealing with those old feelings. I wasn’t even sure what he thought of me, whether he even really wanted me back in his life, or if he just looked at me as another potential conquest.
But after hanging out with him together, feeling the genuineness of his energy towards me, I’m beginning to feel bad about my hesitancy to reach out to him all last year, how I’d given him somewhat of a cold shoulder this semester when we first started talking again, how I’ve treated every interaction between us up until tonight with at least some degree of suspicion.
Luke must sense my feelings, as he gets up from his chair and sets himself down in the empty one to my left. He leans on the arm of the chair, inclining his body toward me. I can feel the burn of his rich, emerald green eyes even as I gaze abstractly down at my feet. I bring up my gaze to meet his, and the shock of intense eye-contact sends shivers through my body when our eyes meet.
Through the intensity of his glaze, he also communicates a warmth. “Come on, you don’t need to feel bad about what happened,” he says, reassuringly. “After all, it isn’t like I couldn’t have tried to reach out to you after I got kicked out. At least to give our relationship some closure. But hey, it was a weird situation, I guess neither of us really knew what to do. I mean, we were just tenth graders dating, right?”
Of course, he’s right. But it certainly felt like a lot more than that at the time. I mean, I guess every high school relationship feels like more than just a meaningly high school fling at the time -- but why does this still feel like so much more than that, all these years later?
“I guess you’re right,” I answer. As I look deep into his eyes, I feel something coming over me. A certain magnetism. A certain motion. I don’t know how to explain it. The feeling of being in a cart that’s slowly starting to roll forward.
Something is setting itself into motion. Something between Luke and me. I realize it’s the same indescribable feeling that came over me that night in New Orleans, when Luke’s lips and mine were a hair’s-breadth away from crossing the line.
“I’m glad we’re talking again now, though. I’m glad you’re, you know, back in my life, somehow,” he says.
A smile takes possession of my lips. His words fill my chest with a warmth, the chest that’s expanding and contracting with deep breaths and a suddenly quickly beating heart.
“Me, too,” I reply. “I’m glad we’re …”
My words trail off. Glad we’re what?
Friends? Is that what we are? Is that what he wants us to be? The intensity in his eyes almost makes me believe that Luke wants us to be more than that … but could that be true? As nice as it’s been to talk with him tonight with my guard down, can I still really trust him? It’s been so many years after all, and I still can’t forget
the reputation for womanizing he’s developed at Winthrop.
But is that reputation really true? Can I really believe everything I hear, no matter how many people I hear it from? It’s not like I was often at any of those fraternity or sorority parties where so many of his … exploits were purported to occur.
I turn my head, towards where I remember seeing Rory standing with Archer … how many minutes ago? Just how long as it been since Luke and I have been talking like this.
Rory and Archer aren’t there. “Where’d they go?” I ask, absentmindedly, my mind bombarded with what’s happening between me and Luke right now, all my conflicting thoughts and feelings about it, and now wondering where Rory’s gone.
I check my phone. A notification of a text from Rory is on the screen, telling me she’s gone home for the night.
I turn my gaze back to Luke, who now wears a smirk on his face. That feeling of motion, like being in a cart rolling forward, is intensifying. It’s now less like sitting in a cart that’s rolling forward, but more like being strapped into a rollercoaster which is ascending its peak.
I have a feeling in the pit of my stomach like I’m being lifted higher and higher, but not just that I’m being lifted straight up … I’m traveling up and forward, like I’m preparing to soon plummet down the other side. Into the unknown.
I sense Luke starting to move forward. Instinctively, I copy his movement. We’re both leaning over the arms of our chairs, slowly drawing towards each other, attracted like we’re two opposing magnets. The feeling of ascent comes to rest. I’m now sitting at the pinnacle, just waiting to plunge down the other side.
I feel the descent in the pit of my stomach. The exhilaration of the fall as I’m leaning so close to Luke that his scent fills my nostrils. He smells rough, manly. Masculine. A powerful mixture of sandalwood and vanilla, tinged with his testosterone, asserts itself over my senses. I feel the warmth radiating from his breath. I’m close enough that I can practically taste him.
Every nerve on my skills tingles as our lips approach closer together. This time, I don’t turn away and run out, like I did in New Orleans.
My stomach twists into knots as our lips graze together. Softly, tentatively at first. A gentle brush of his lips against mine, sliding together across the soft moisture of their surface. I notice that my eyes are closed, and it’s like I’m in a different world, a different universe. After that first brush of our mouths, our faces stay still, centimeters apart, as if we’re both thinking about what just happened.
The time for thought passes quickly, as suddenly Luke’s lips crash against mine, this time with tremendous force. His lips slant over mine, caressing them possessively.
The sensation is explosive, overwhelming. We kissed back in high school, but it felt nothing like this. His kiss is now so much more confident, so much more self-assured, so much more in control. He devours my lips with his, parting and sweeping across them, having his way with them, with me.
I feel him place his hand on my knee. My nipples stiffen and I spread my legs and relax my pelvis, luxuriating in the seductive tension of his strong, sure fingers inching up the inside of my leg, each motion sending waves of pleasure up my spine. My jaw trembles with adrenaline. I reach out and clasp his thick, hard forearm. I can feel the articulation of his bulging veins.
He coaxes my lips open and begins exploring the inside of my mouth. Our tongues swipe across each other. He takes control, flicking his tongue against mine, caressing it. He takes his hand off my leg and places it against the back of my neck. He draws me closer toward him, kissing me more deeply and more passionately.
Flashes and sparkles of light play against the inside of my eyelids as I lose sense of time and place. All my consciousness is concentrated in my mouth, my lips, my tongue. Our lips crash and slide against each other like storm waves crashing chaotically against the shoreline.
I don’t know how long this lasts. Eventually, our energy is depleted and our lips part. My eyes stay closed as I catch my breath and my mind begins to settle back into reality.
I open my eyes and see Luke, his eyes still closed for a split second before his lids, too, open, and our eyes meet each other again.
After expending all my energy in that kiss, an anxious tension now spreads over me.
My body still hungers for him. It’s hungered for him all this time. But this …
This is a mistake.
I can’t be with Luke Tanner.
Our past together is one thing. Being friends is one thing. But if we were dating? Sleeping together? I know Dr. Gasten would no longer trust me on the Wolves assignment for the paper. My objectivity would be compromised. He’d probably take me off the beat and give it back to Greg. Everything that this assignment means for my future … I can’t risk that.
If I’m going to make it in journalism, I know that I’ll need ever advantage I can get, and this high-profile assignment is by far the biggest advantage I have, and the biggest chance I’m going to get.
I can’t throw it away. Not even for a kiss like that, or for what would follow.
“Luke,” I say in a peep, my voice trailing off. I’m not sure how to find the words.
Luke clearly senses the dejection in my voice, as the twinkle in his eye fads and the sides of his lips slacken. “Are you okay?” he asks.
I nod, weakly. “Yes. Just …”
“That was a mistake?”
I sigh and shake my head. “No, but … I don’t know. We can’t do this.”
He sighs and straightens himself up in his chair. “I understand.”
“It’s just that I have so much riding on this assignment, covering the Wolves. If we were dating,” I pause, still not entirely sure that dating was even his intention behind that kiss, or something more transitory.
“I understand.”
“But tonight was great,” I hasten to add. “It was so nice to talk to you like this again. I’m glad we were able to talk about the past, work out some old feelings.”
“I feel the same way. I’m glad we’re back in each other's lives after all this time. I don’t want that to change. I understand if you don’t want to go further than this, but I hope we can still be friends.”
I smile. “I’d like that, too.”
Even though I don’t feel like I can afford the risk that’s involved with a relationship with Luke, I definitely don’t want us to be separated again. Hanging out with him tonight has been great. I still feel a chemistry and a closeness with him, and we share so much of our past, so many important memories and moments. I don’t want to lose that.
“Let me walk you home, then. Don’t worry, I won’t ask to come inside,” he adds with a grin. His sense of humor smooths over any awkwardness hanging in the air.
“Deal.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: LUKE
It took every ounce of self-control I could muster to not pull Heidi back to me and devour her lips -- those soft, smooth, pillowy lips -- again as we stood before her apartment after I walked her home that night.
But I didn’t. I held back. That took more will power and effort than any football game, or any workout, or any practice of my life.
When I got home that night I couldn’t sleep. I could barely lay in bed. I’d only be able to lay my head against my pillow for a couple minutes before I had to get back to my feet and pace around my room, my mind teeming with thoughts, feelings, and contradictions.
I understand where Heidi’s coming from. Especially considering her position at the paper. I know how important the job covering the Wolves is to her. I know how much it’s raising her profile as a student journalist. I know how important it is for her future. And of course, I must know that publicly dating me would have to put that in jeopardy.
It makes sense. But is that really the only reason? Is that just a convenient excuse she used to soften the blow, to sugar-coat the simple fact that she just doesn’t want to be with me.
Her kiss sure didn’t say that she didn’t want to b
e with me, though. Her lips hungered for mine as much as mine hungered for hers. I could feel the energy buzzing from her body, in sync with mine. I could feel her legs part as I rested the palm of my hand on her thigh. I could hear the soft moans and whimpers escape her mouth as we kissed passionately.
Eventually, after reliving that kiss in my mind a hundred times and overanalyzing every word of every conversation we’ve had since that stray pass brought us back together the day before the start of the semester, I fell back onto my bed and ended up passing out.
I woke up the next morning still dressed in the clothes I had worn while cooking dinner with Heidi and the guys earlier the night before. I had to question myself whether that kiss was a dream -- but I could still feel the sensation of her lips tingling on my own. Her scent still hung in my nostrils. Memories as vivid as lived in my mind of the night before couldn’t have come from dreams. It had to be reality.
That day I went through my classes like a zombie. I couldn’t focus on a single word of any of my lectures. Walking across campus from class to class, my head was on a swivel, searching for any glimpse of her among the throng of students.
She said she still wanted to be friends. Was that the truth, or just an age-old euphemism, something to say while turning me down to let me down more easily?
It was during the last class of the afternoon that I started to come to my senses. There I was, wracking my mind over what had happened between Heidi and me rather than paying attention to my classes, classes that were threatening to beat my ass the second I slackened my tenacity with studying. I’d hardly thought about football all day.
In my position, that needs to set off alarm bells. Football can never be in the back of my mind. Not if I want to take advantage of the momentum we’ve built up so far this season to ride it into the playoffs. Football needs to be front and center. It needs to be an obsession. But all day long it was Heidi I was obsessed over.
