Page 62 of Luka

Luka didn’t seem to even notice. He flopped the bag down toward me and sat on the bed. “Brought you some clothes.” He scratched the back of his neck while eyeing the food. It seemed like it was for me, but he didn’t say so, and I didn’t make a move for it.

Seconds passed while he avoided my eyes.

“I wasn’t really sure what you liked to eat, but…” He gestured toward the food.

“Oh.” I cleared my throat when my voice cracked. “Th-thank you.”

“Yup.” He nodded while picking a piece of lint off his shirt. After another awkward silence, he blew out a breath and stood. “Well, I gotta get to work. I’ll bring you lunch, so… Later.” He gave me the briefest of glances before lifting his hand in an unenthusiastic wave, his back already turned to me.

It was like that for the rest of the day.

Luka brought me lunch, we avoided eye contact.

Luka finished his shift, gave me a weak wave before he showered, then we avoided eye contact.

He slept facing away from me while I stared at his back wondering if I’d dream about him again. Wondering if my dreams were trying to tell me I should be afraid of him. Iamafraid of him. But not as much as I should be. He’s far more terrifying to me when I’m asleep.

The next day was more of the same.

This time he spent most of the evening on the balcony even though it was still ninety degrees out. The whole time he watched the sky, I watched him and wondered if he was avoiding me out of disgust or something else.

It was beyond obvious that something had changed between us. I don’t think either of us were sure what our new dynamic was, and we still haven’t figured it out. I can’t tell if he regrets having sex with me or if he’s just as confused by it as I am. But he hasn’t tried again.

On the third morning, I caught him watching me for the first time since we’d arrived. I had a banana halfway to my mouth when his eyes drew mine.

“What?” I asked, lowering the fruit.

He looked down at my chest, shook his head, then went back to staring at the door.

“I hate this fuckin’ place,” he muttered at lunchtime on the fourth day. His shirt was soaked in sweat, his back hunched over. I couldn’t tell if he was talking to me. I couldn’t decide if I wanted him to be.

It occurred to me that he didn’t actually need to be in the room. He could have spent his evenings somewhere else, even slept in another room. I thought maybe he wanted to keep an eye on me, but as I watched his defeated expression that morning, Isaw he was just hiding from the others. He’d rather be with the girl he can’t look at than with his family.

He left before I could think of what to say.

But in the evening, I followed him onto the balcony.

He glanced behind him with a cigarette perked between his lips. I sidled up next to him as he blew out the smoke toward the ground below.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” I felt stupid the moment the words were out of my mouth. I barely even know Luka let alone his routines. I’m not sure why it felt like I did at the time.

“I don’t.” He dragged more smoke into his lungs. As he blew it out, he pointed at an SUV parking in the circular drive. “That’ll be my brother-in-law.”

A man climbed out the back door with Luka’s sister following behind him. He looked back at her, took her hand, and together they headed for the front door. I couldn’t really make out what he looked like, only brown wavy hair and muscular build.

“Are you close?” I asked.

Luka laughed before flicking his cigarette off the balcony. He leaned over to watch it drop, and I got the feeling he wouldn’t be disappointed if he set fire to the place. His hatred for the world is a black aura surrounding him, preventing all from getting close. But I get the impression he has even more hatred for his family.

A while passed before I caught Luka’s eyes dancing over me. When I met his gaze, he faced forward, and I did the same. At least twenty minutes passed with us like that, our bodies slowly inching closer.

“Goodnight, Peach,” he told me before finally going inside.

My face blushed, and I waited another few minutes before following him in. For the very first time, the nickname didn’t sound condescending. For the very first time, I liked it.

When we went to sleep, he faced me.

And I’ve dreamt of him every night since, his hand no longer around my neck.

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