Page 229 of Falling Backwards
“All right, I gotta get bad to my—I mean,backto my goddess,” he says.“Yum.”Then, as he’s turning away, he flicks one last look over me and wrinkles his nose.
I watch him wander back to his table, and I realize I’m shaking as I grip the slim metal handle of the fork still in my hand from before.
‘Yum,’he said of her.‘Yuck,’he thought of me.
I have no idea what he was saying before, but I caught that loud and clear.
I don’t care what he thinks.I don’t care at all.I don’t.
Of course I do, though, in a way.Not because I want him back, not because I love him, not because I even like him—I care because I’m human.I have feelings and insecurities and he just…he just….
I try not to tear up.
I try to think about Luke and how good he makes me feel instead.
I try not to be upset with him, too, over what he didn’t tell me about his past conversation with Marcus.
I try to focus on work.
But the knots in me just keep growing.
—
By the time I’m walking out of Lucent and to Luke’s car, I feel something new: the insistent dig of frustration.
It doesn’t help for me to get into his passenger seat and receive only a slight nod, not even an attempt at a smile; something is still off with his mood, and I’ll just bet he’s going to keep evading me if I ask what it is.
He asks, “How was work?”and I know him well enough to hear the nearly forced interest in his tone.Not even the low music playing can distract me from it.
“It was shitty,” I say.My thoughts glance over everything with Marcus and then over how my shift managed to worsen after he left my table.
“That sucks.”
Judging by that tone, I don’t think he’s evenhalfwayhere with me.
I clench my jaw, buckle my seatbelt, and ask, “Is something bothering you?”
“No.I’m all good.”
As he gets the car moving, I look at him.It’s dark outside and mostly dark in here, but I can see his expression isn’t any different from how it was during lunch.Except….
Worse.He looks worse.Hefeelsworse.
There’s a tightness about him.It’s in his eyes, in his jaw, his shoulders, his grip on the steering wheel.
Somethingison his mind, and it’s big enough that it hasn’t just been with him for hours, it has deepened.
What happened?I wonder yet again.
“What happened?”he asks me.“Why was work shitty?”
The questions are wrought with evasiveness, not stirring sympathy.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”I ask back instead of answering him.“I really feel like something got to you at lunch and is still bothering you now.”
“I’m fine.”
“I know you, Luke.”
