Page 56 of I Still Love You

I bite the corner of my lip, drawing it into my mouth as I look beyond his head. The restaurant’s window might be heavily tinted, but it’s easy to see that patrons continue to fill the place, which is good because if they’re in there, it means they’re not out here.

They’re not in this purgatory, where the static in the air can shift in a dangerous direction at the drop of a hat. And that’s the sense I get when I push myself to keep talking. As easy as this has been between us this past week, we’re still us. Luke may have been there after Andrew tried to assault me, but that didn’t suddenly relieve us of our past. “And what about you? Does she fit your bill?”

The question falls from my lips so easily, with jade drool dripping from each word, making the giant green-eyed jealous monster inside of me known.

“No,” he clears his throat, “not really.”

I must morph into a masochist because my trap doesn’t stay shut, no matter how much I internally bargain for it to stop. “You sure she knows that? She looked, uh, how do I put this, pretty damn cozy whenever she came over to the table.”

“Is this you asking if I’m dating other people, Layla?”

I shake my head, and finally, my brain says something right, “No.”

“I’m not,” he tells me. “Not that we’re in a place to be sharing the intimacies of our sex lives, but if you need the truth, we spent one night together. I’m not interested in a re-do.”

I can’t stomach picturing another woman on top of him. Can’t imagine him caressing a body other than my own.

There’s a long pause as I readjust my bag’s strap on my shoulder, and all at once, my indifference turns into a shield of agitation.

I need to move—and why the hell is it this hot this late? Why didn’t the night sky bring a cool breeze with it? I offer a simple, “Cool,” before swiftly moving around the back of the car. I head toward the driver’s side, too busy in my head that I don’t hear him follow, nor do I sense his towering body block me in. When I pull the door open, it doesn’t budge, and my tunnel vision of irritation slowly expands until I see a hand propped on the door above my head, holding it shut.

“Let go, Luke.” I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time for the way my heart beats wildly against my chest at the image of some bimbo riding Luke from sunset to sunrise. When I try to pull the door handle’s lever again, he doesn’t budge. I squeeze my eyes shut briefly and yank hard one more time. “Luke,” I warn. “Let go of my damn door.”

I’m unaware there’s a foot of space between us until he eats it up. He stuffs it in his mouth like it’s nothing and presses his front to my back. His breath fans lightly over my bare shoulder, causing a warm shiver to run down my arm. “Running away because you don’t like the sound of me fucking someone else? That’s unfair, don’t you think?”

“I don’t care who you spend your time with.”

He pulls layers of my hair back, exposing my ear. “So, you’re fine with me going back in there and telling Ava that I changed my mind? That our one night was so satisfying that I want another round?”

“We’re fake dating at work, Luke. Not in public,” I clarify, but even I notice the brittleness in my confidence, and I want to get the hell out of here before it breaks. The predicament that happened with Andrew broke me down, making it difficult for me to stand here and feel as assured as I was when I shoved a cupcake in Luke’s face. I just don’t have it in me tonight to argue, even if I am responsible for starting it. I reach up and pull his heavy arm from the car, surprised when he moves it to the side. “Go do what you want. No one is holding you back.”

“I don’t get it,” Luke says callously. “I don’t get why you always run the fuck away.”

I shove my bag onto the driver’s seat and twist around to Luke. As much as I don’t have it in me to fight, a part of me is pressing to engage. “I’m a runner because I told you I didn’t care what you did with our waitress? If you want to fuck her, Luke,” I raise my hand in the bar's direction, not caring how far my voice carries, “then go fuck her. If you’re not interested, then don’t. Would you rather I stick around for the verdict?”

“I’d rather you put a little fucking enthusiasm into a conversation. I’d rather you come to me if you’re feeling some type of way. Christ,” he exhales with annoyance. “I was looking forward to coming out with you tonight. Can you believe that? I was fucking ecstatic knowing you’d be sitting next to me all damn night. Sure, that didn’t happen, but I was fucking happy about it. We come out here, and the second you feel something, you want to turn and run the other way.”

I lift my arms only for my hands to fall, slapping against my legs. “I’m right here! If I were running, I’d be in my car and out of this parking lot by now.”

“Nothing has changed with you.”

“What?”

His green eyes bite into me as harshly as his words. The darkness they take on, along with the way his lips pull back into a slit, makes my stomach churn with uncertainty. Abandoned Luke replaces Flirty Luke, and it sucks up all the progress we’ve made.

“This is it for me, Layla,” he announces quietly, almost so low that I don’t hear it. Either way, the sentence is just as baffling because I don’t know what the hell he means. First, we’re sort of flirting. Then he’s talking about fucking another woman. Then he’s telling me how much he wishes I were different.

What the hell does he want from me?

“What are you talking about?”

“This,” he says, flipping a finger between the two of us. “Fake, real, something else. Whatever label you want to put on it. I can’t do it anymore.”

I don’t understand.

He was the one who came to me with a deal, saying he’d do whatever it took to play the part as long as I hightailed it out of here the second my contract ended. Why is he ending it early? Why does that make my heart race?

Rather than trying to understand it, I scoff. It comes out loud and clear, laced with as much disgust as he’s given me these last few weeks. “And I’m the one who’s running?”

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