Page 45 of August Lane
“Jojo pays for it. If she bothers to look at a utility bill, she’ll assume it is me.”
Luke wanted to ask why she and Jojo weren’t speaking, but it felt too invasive. Despite their current softer mood, they still weren’t close. Far from it. “Why do you live here?”
August scanned the room. “I know it’s a waste of money. But I needed a break from that house.” She rubbed her face, scrubbing away the melancholy. “A lot of family members have died there. Might want to sage it before you move in.”
“It’s not a good idea.”
“The walls are too thin to play music here. It’s perfect.”
“Sounds like being out there is hard for you. I don’t want to put you through that.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said. Fine, as in mind your business. There was no hint of awareness that she wasn’t following her own advice. “Besides, if you owe me, maybe you won’t disappear again.”
Luke realized how his protests sounded to her. He’d literally slept with a foot near the gas pedal last night. “All right. I’ll stay there if that’s what you want.”
“It is.” She looked him up and down. “You should take a shower first.”
Luke lifted the neck of his T-shirt and sniffed. He smelled like outside and sweat. Nothing horrible, but nothing to brag about, either. “Did my best with limited resources.”
“Like a public restroom sink?” Guilt must have shown on his face because she burst out laughing.
“Where’s the bathroom?” Luke stood and eyed the identical doors on his right. August cut him off.
“Stop. Don’t move.” She slipped through a door and positioned it to obscure what was happening inside. Drawers opened and closed. The shower curtain rustled.
“I don’t care about your bathroom secrets,” he shouted, trying to ensure she heard him over her chaotic cleaning. “We all got soap scum and squeeze toothpaste from the middle.”
August jerked the door open and brandished a black silicone stick with a large bulb on the top. “This is a back massager.”
Luke eyed the thick black column. “Is it?”
“Yes.There isn’t enough room to store it in that tiny vanity.”
“Ah. So this is a preemptive explanation.” Luke reached for it, and she moved it behind her back.
“What are you doing?”
“I like a massage in the shower, too.”
She bit back a smile and said, “Get your own.” She returned to her task. He listened to her movements and the mundane sound was comforting. It gave him hope. Made him feel like they could be okay.
CHAPTER EIGHT
2009
Luke wouldn’t have gotten drunk at Jessica’s birthday party if August had been there. Or at least, he wouldn’t have done it the way his friends did, gulping beer so fast it shot straight into their bloodstream. He didn’t want her to lump him into that group more than she already did. He wanted to be different. Worthy of her attention.
But she wasn’t there. It was just him, his angry girlfriend, and a gang of classmates he barely recognized watching every move he made. The party was so packed that walking through Jessica’s living room felt like wading in damp breath.
Despite being surrounded by people, Luke was alone. Even when Jessica stroked his arm or Shane shouted his name, Luke felt invisible, which was what he usually wanted. Hiding behind a smile was survival. But the minute he arrived at Jessica’s house, he’d questioned whether that should be the goal. Was tiptoeing around a minefield the best version of living he’d ever have?
He couldn’t think like that. At a party, he shouldn’t be thinking at all. Not with people watching. Not surrounded by mines.
Luke knew how to handle unwelcome thoughts because he’d been doing it since he was twelve. Start with vodka, the good kind from someone’s liquor cabinet, not the cheap stuff that tastes like rubbing alcohol. Don’t sip it, though. This ain’t a dinner party. Throw it past your taste buds like the medicine it is.
“Are you drunk already?” Jessica glared at him, which was confusing because she was the one who’d been pouring his drinks. Luke smiled and threw his arm around her neck to prove he was the version of her boyfriend who knew how to have a good time.
“You look good.” He eyed her pale pink top. “I like this color on you.”
