Luke's house is teeming with guests and it takes me only a second to realise that I'm grossly underdressed. Men and women stand around with glasses of whiskey and champagne flutes in their hands. They wear friendly smiles on their faces as they chat up each other.

Most of the women here have their hair done up in chignons, some with fancy clips tucking their locks back, others with loose strands framing their faces. Everyone's either in tweed dresses that reach their knees or plain frocks with cardigans wrapped over their shoulders.

I catch simple but expensive looking bracelets adorning their wrists, completing their otherwise bare ensembles.

The men are all dressed in casual shirts and pants but most of them have cardigans wrapped over their shoulders as well. It feels like I've just stepped into another timeline.

And then there's me in my baggy t-shirt, loose pants and sneakers. I stick out like a sore thumb and soon numerous eyes are on me, watching as Luke's mother leads me past the living room.

I keep my head down, feeling like an intruder. All I can think of is grabbing the food Mrs Bradshaw insists I take and running out of here.

But it appears luck is not on my side because she bumps into a long lost friend and loses herself in her excitement. The two begin chatting animatedly whilst I stand there like a statue.

"Oh, pardon my manners. This is Danielle, Luke's classmate," Mrs Bradshaw gestures to me and the dark haired woman with her professionally styled bun and make up suddenly takes note of my presence. Her stare is calculative as she studies me from head to toe, mouth pursing with distaste. "Danielle, this is Mrs Wyatt.

My eyes widen in surprise, recognising that surname immediately. The woman gives me a crisp nod and quickly excuses herself, looking like she's afraid I might infect her. She walks away to join a group of ladies at the back patio, her Prada heels clanking on the wooden floors and Chanel bag swinging by her hip.

If Mrs Bradshaw noticed her dismissal, she doesn't show it. The smile on her face is gleaming and she takes me to the dining room where the crowd is much younger.

I recognise a few faces from the football team but the rest are strangers.

"Indica, could you help pack some food for Danielle here. She was passing by and I just couldn't let her leave empty handed." Luke's mother tells the brown haired girl standing by the built in bar at the back of the room. She stops talking to her friends and straightens up when Mrs Bradshaw addresses her. I notice her subtly placing the glass of whiskey back onto the counter top.

"Sure, mum." She says immediately and Mrs Warner leaves the room to greet her other guests.

Indica picks up her glass again and takes a long swig, studying me slowly. A smile stretches across her face and she places her palms over the dining table before leaning forward.

"Danielle? From the neighbourhood on the other side of the park?" She guesses and my cheeks burn from embarrassment. Is she trying to belittle me? Because if that's the case I'm not eating a damn thing on this table.

"Does it matter?" I answer sharply and the smugness on her face disappears. Her friends watch us from the bar and my fists bunch by my sides. All I wanted was some fresh air and a walk. I don't need this, especially not today.

"Listen, I was just passing by. I was going to get take away from Uncle Jang's, I actually don't want to intrude." I'm mumbling now and it feels like more people have started to stare. "I'm going to go."

I turn around, heading for the door. I'm almost past the threshold to the living room when Indica grabs my arm, pulling me back.

She's laughing and I don't know why but it makes my skin prickle with irritation.

"Look we got off on the wrong foot, alright? I was only asking if you are the Danielle from across the park because Luke mentioned you before."

She takes me past the dining room and into the kitchen and I only follow her because I want to know what her brother told her about me.

I lean against the granite counter top while she grabs a few containers from a cupboard and begins to fill them up with spaghetti, meatloaf and salad.

I cross my arms over my chest and try not to look too interested in my question. "Luke's mentioned me?"

Indica grins mischievously. "Yes, I distinctly remember my brother mentioning a Danielle Nio before. He rarely ever comes home during the weekends but ever since then he's been back almost every week."

He wasn't supposed to tell anyone about our run in that day. I should be mad but my heart is currently skipping in my chest, Indica's admission about her brother has caused a fluttery feeling in my stomach.

"Funny thing is," She seals the containers and turns around to face me. "He never liked going to that park. Used to be so adamant about training at the campus gym and field all the time. Now he goes for runs there every time he comes back."

I shift on my feet, her smirk making me feel guilty for some reason.

"I wonder why." She says in a teasing tone and I chew the inside of my cheek nervously. I don't like her insinuation, it makes my insides feel all fuzzy like my organs have begun to rearrange themselves.

I simply shrug and walkover to take the bag of food she has prepared for me. "Maybe he's sick of the gym."

"Maybe." Indica drawls and I resist the urge to scowl.

"Thanks," I murmur, taking the food from her and she pouts.

"Can't you stay for awhile? It would be nice to get to know a fellow neighbour and we've just only started the festivities. Why don't you stay till we leave for the memorial grounds?"

"No, no," I quickly mumble, putting my palms up in protest. "I don't want to intrude."

"Danielle, there you are." Luke walks into the kitchen, looking rather nervous. He's dressed in a crisp blue polo shirt that really compliments his eyes.

My eyes rake him from head to toe, noticing how the shirt and capri pants fit him so snugly. His tanned skin is warm, his arms look so smooth, so fit, so...

My grip on the bag of food tightens.

He runs a hand through his golden brown hair and smiles at Indica. "Please excuse my sister. She's a writer, an MFA student in New York and she absolutely loves fiction." He shoots her a look. "I hope she hasn't told you anything too absurd."

Indica leans against the island counter top and side by side, the siblings could not be more different looking. While Luke is tall, lean and muscular in the way most athletes are, Indica is short and her features are much softer.

They both have the same beautiful golden brown hair and blue eyes but Indica's face is round, her legs and arms plumper and soft. Luke is pure muscle, his cheekbones high and jaw sharp. The only thing soft about him is his gaze when he looks at me.

"I..uh. I'm just leaving," I cast him a polite smile. "Thanks so much for the food. You really shouldn't have."

Disappointment flickers across his handsome features and he nods. "Let me walk you outside."

I follow him out to the dining room but people have gathered around the living room, the crowd forming a barricade between us and the front door.

Someone speaks over the crowd and it sounds like they are reciting something.

"They have started to read the letters." Luke tells me, searching for a path for us to squeeze through.

I cast him an exasperated look when the crowd thickens, more guests from the garden outside pouring in through the patio doors. Luke's house is massive, it looks like his family bought over two lots and merged them into one large Victorian styled house.

His living room could fit my entire house inside of it but right now it feels tiny and suffocating. All I want to do it leave.

"Is there a way around?" I lean in to whisper to him. "What about a back door?"

"The catering crew has been set up there," Luke says, shaking his head. "The only way out is through the crowd."

The thought of interrupting their session and walking past all these guests is enough to paralyse me with fear. My shoulders slump in disdain and I simply give up. "Let's just wait for this to finish. What is it exactly?"

Luke moves closer to explain. I feel the heat from his proximity and am acutely aware of how smooth his skin feels when his arm brushes against mine.

"Wives and relatives of soldiers who have passed on take this time to read some of their letters. It is their opportunity to reminisce and share their loss and love with others."

I gulp softly, having not expected something so intimate. I peer over the crowd to see a woman take a seat just as an elderly man leaves it bare. She unfolds the faded parchment in her hands and begins to read out loud.

"My dear Denise,

How is our son doing? You told me he turned three a week ago? Has he started to walk yet? I hope he isn't giving my best girl too much trouble. Only I am allowed to do that. I miss you both so very much. Every morning our platoon heads out to the war zone borders and every minute is spent thinking of you both.

I pray every second that I will be able to see you again, Denise. I think of your smile every time another soldier goes down. I dream of your gaze in the mornings when your eyelids flutter with sleep.

We will be discharged by next month, that will be in the fall over there where you are. Wait for me, my best girl. I can't wait to see you."

The woman is smiling but her voice breaks by the end of the letter and the mood in the room turns sombre. Judging by their reactions, I take it her husband never made it back for that fall. Her loss makes me swallow hard and someone somewhere sobs softly.

My lips quiver and I feel a warm hand encircle my wrist. I look down to see Luke squeeze my skin gently.

"Her son's twelve now. He's happy and healthy and has joined the minor league. He wants to be a football player." He smirks at me playfully, obviously trying to lighten the mood. "Guess who his role model is?"

I role my eyes even though I'm thankful for the distraction. "Do I really want to know? Football is so generic."

Luke's gasps dramatically and he places a hand over his chest, feigning hurt. "How dare you."

I laugh softly and watch as another man replaces the woman on that seat.

"If I recall, someone cheered for us on the field just last week. Quite a bit of effort for such a generic sport." Luke murmurs.

The man in the centre of the room begins reciting a letter from his father, who served in the Vietnam war. Despite the context, his letter is much lighter and he gets a few laughs from the crowd.

"Really? I wonder who." I answer Luke stubbornly earning a look from him.

"You looked good in that cheerleader outfit by the way. It was quite distracting."

I turn to him and our gazes lock. The moment feels electric, he's quite literally the most beautiful thing in the room, despite the exquisite art and decorative pieces filling every part of the interior.

I suck in a breath just as someone interrupts us.