Page 63 of The Friend Game

“Yes,” I whisper, then shut my eyes. “But I went along with it. I’m so sorry, Luke,” I whisper fervently. “I never should’ve lied to you. And yes, at first I didn’t know that it was you specifically that I was going to be lying to, but regardless, agreeing to lie in the first place was wrong. Inexcusable,” I add for emphasis. “You have every right to be angry with me. And I understand completely if this changes things between us, if,” I stutter over the painful words, “this means you no longer want to take me out in March.”

My eyes are still shut, but I sense him step closer to me, then feel his finger on my chin, tilting it upward.

“Hannah,” he murmurs, “please look at me.”

I open my eyes to find him staring down at me, the intensity of emotions in his cerulean eyes making my heart race.

“I was never angry at you,” Luke says.

“You weren’t?”

He shakes his head. “Not angry,” he repeats, then drops his hand from chin to rake it through his hair, leaving it tousled and tempting. “I was more hurt than anything.” He lets out a long breath. Maybe I should feel relieved he’s not mad at me, but instead I feel worse. Anger would be better than this. Than knowing that I hurt him.

“Luke, I’m so sorry,” I repeat desperately. “The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you. Please believe that.” I put a hand to my heart to bring my point home, realizing belatedly that I’ve probably now added orange fingerprints to my white t-shirt—completing my look.

I’m never eating Cheetos again.

Luke searches my eyes. “I do believe that,” he says. “To be honest, Hannah, it wasn’t so much that you lied to me that hurt, it was the realization that you didn’t feel safe enough with me to share the truth.”

Ouch. Ouch, ouch, ouch.

“Luke—” I start to protest, but he holds up a hand, silently asking me to let him finish.

“But then, the more I thought about it the more I realized that it was unfair to expect you to share something so potentially devastating to your career, to your very livelihood, when we’ve only been friends for about two months. And while I do want that type of open and honest and vulnerable relationship with you, I’m the one who’s beensetting limits on us getting to that place. Not you. So I am going to put down my hurt and continue to be your friend. And I hope, in turn, you’ll consider continuing to wait for me to be able to offer more than that to you.”

Wow. My heart stutters in my chest. He is so good with words. I’m left standing here wanting to cry,forget your contract and kiss me already!

But I don’t, because I also want us to eventually have the type of relationship he described.

Even if it means telling him about everything that happened with Marshall. I have to trust that he won’t judge or condemn me and that he’ll be able to love me regardless of my past mistakes.

Well, maybe not love. That might be a stretch considering our first official date is months from now. But I do hope he’ll still be interested in dating me when he finds out the truth.

“What do you say, Hannah?” Luke asks, a little smile playing across his lips. “Can I keep March 1 penciled in on my calendar?”

I smile too. “Of course you can, Luke. Same time, same place.” I gesture to my front step, but then add, “Well, same place anyway. I’d prefer that you pick me up a bit earlier.”

“My contract expires at midnight on February 28,” he says. “So what do you think—is 12:01 in the morning too early?” he asks, making me laugh.

“Maybe just a tad. Give me at least until 12:15.”

Luke grins, for a second his gaze seems to hitch on my mouth, but then he shakes his head and takes two deliberate steps back.

“Well, okay then, Hannah. I’ll talk to you again soon.”

I nod. “Great.”

He turns to go, but then hesitates, turning back. “Oh, and Hannah?”

“Yes?” I say, my voice entirely too hopeful. Silly imagination. There will not be a good night kiss! Kill the romantic fantasies!

“I think your idea about getting your certification is great and I’m happy to support you with the board.”

“Thank you, Luke.” Fresh emotion makes my voice raspy. With one final nod and smile, he takes off. I watch him go with a warm and fuzzy feeling growing inside me.

But my last coherent thought as I settle in my bed not too long after is an image of Marshall standing in my classroom with dangerous fire in his eyes.

Chapter 25

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