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49

"Wait, Anastasia!"

    "Calum, just leave me alone. Please," I call out. Ignoring the pleading boy following after me, I swipe my palms against my tear-streaked face and swiftly ascend the balcony steps two at a time.

    Wet footsteps make prints against the paneled wood and my vision blurs with tears as I wonder why the hell he's even bothering. Calum and I weren't friends, we would probably never be, and his loyalty was with Luke. He shouldn't care about upsetting me, let alone care about apologizing for doing so. It just didn't make sense.

    I reach the balcony door, clutch the handle, and go to slide it open, but just my luck — it doesn't budge; someone must've locked it. My voice cracks when I mumble, "Great", and that does it. Defeated, I bow my head and welcome the tears that stream steadily down my face. I officially take back what I said earlier: this night has gone to hell and I'm a fool for letting my guard down for even a second. What was I thinking?

    "Anastasia," Calum tentatively whispers, finally catching up to me.

    I can feel him standing directly behind me and embarrassed, I tuck my chin into my chest and fervently shake my head; a silent plead for him to back off.

    "Annie, I'm sorry. I had no place, that wasn't fair of me to s—"

    "Please," I hiccup, tears and snot dripping off of my nose. I reach up and roughly drag my forearm across my face. Gosh, why can't I stop crying?

    A hand cups my shoulder, hesitant and careful, and then all at once I'm being turned around and fully coaxed into warm arms. "Come here."

    No. I don't need this.

    I've been doing so good at keeping to myself and bottling it up.

    I don't need this.

    Those are the untrue mantras I force my brain to repeat, as my palms flatten against Calum's warm torso, meaning to push him away. But then, his hand presses against my back, soothingly rubbing, and the next thing I know, I'm fisting his shirt between my fingers and full-on sobbing against his chest.

    I drain all of the anxiety and the heartbreak and the feelings of solitude and rejection from the last few weeks out into my tears as Calum tightens his arms around my shoulders and softly voices comforting encouragements from above me.

    "Let it out, you're fine." His voice is comforting, his touch pacifying, and even though all I've wanted lately was this kind of affection and attention and care, I still can't help but to wish it were a certain someone else's arms.

    It helps, but it isn't enough.

    With that, I force myself to snap out of my reverie, and carefully, I untangle myself from Calum's hold; averting his questioning umber-eyed gaze. I yank my sleeve over my hand and drag it underneath my runny nose.

    "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," I rush.

    Bad idea.

     My throat feels like I've swallowed both a cactus and a human heart whole. I pause and swallow carefully; taking my time saying my next words. "Promise me you won't tell Luke about this."

     Calum stands silent for a moment, and when I glance over, he's watching me with impassive eyes. Then, reaching up to comb his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, he closes his eyes, sighs, and says, "I can't."

     My stomach twists. "What do you mean?"

     "It's just I—"

     "Calum, plea—"

     "Luke was the one that sent me over to talk to you, alright?"

    Wait, what? Suddenly red-faced and self-conscious, my eyes anxiously cut to the backyard in search of the blonde-haired boy. When I find him, he's standing alone at the bar, solemnly circling a straw around a full glass. Besides me, Calum steps up to the deck railing and leans over it; his forearms pressing against the ledge.

    "At dinner, he saw you sitting at the pool alone. You had already made it clear that you didn't want to be near him at the rehearsal, so he asked if I could check on you, instead."

    "But ... that doesn't explain why?"

    "What do you mean, why? He cares about you, he's been going insane these last few days."

     Bowing my head, I kick my toes against the wooden flooring and scoff. It's an asshole thing to do, especially after hearing that, but I can't help it. "Oh, yeah? I couldn't tell between the glasses of champagne he was happily gulping down earlier."

     "Don't be so naive, Annie," Calum announces, seemingly disappointed in my response. He turns his head over his shoulder to look at me. "That's just a front. There's not a day that goes by that he doesn't talk about you."

     A cozy, tingly sensation settles deep in my stomach and I flush. Could that mean he misses me too? On cue, Calum voices, "He misses you", practically reading my mind. "He just wants to know you're okay."

     "I'm fine."

    Brown eyes narrow. "Right."

     Frustrated, I wrap my arms around myself and I pad over to join him at the ledge. "Okay well, in two weeks, I will be."

     "What does that mean?"

     And maybe it's the emphatic way that he's staring at me, like, he truly understands what both his best friend and I are going through, but suddenly, I'm not so embarrassed. I clear my throat, "Once our parents are married, we won't have a choice but to stay away from each other. It's a win/win."

    "A win/win," Calum repeats. He nods. "For your mom and Andrew? Sure. But you and I both know that's not what you and Luke want."

    "We don't have a choice."

  He scoffs. "I'm sorry, but that's bullshit."

    "Excuse me?"

    "Everyone has a choice." His hand reaches out, quickly cupping mine. "Talk to Luke before you make that decision on your own. You're only one half in this." Then he pushes himself up off the ledge and starts towards the stairs.

    When I turn my eyes back out to the bar, Luke's gone.

—

    "This is the last one," I quietly call out, stepping forward with a folding chair cradled against my chest.

    It's the end of the night, the adults have decided to move their afterparty to some downtown nightclub, and Luke, Bryana, and I are on clean-up duty. Usually, I'd complain. But after the emotional exhaust that I've experienced today, focusing my thoughts on something other than well, my thoughts, really doesn't seem like too bad of an idea.

    From where he's standing in the driveway, Luke turns to me and gingerly takes the chair from out of my hold. For the past hour, we've kept our conversation minimal, only talking when necessary, and when necessary, keeping it nothing short of cordial. Like now. Blue eyes glance up at me, and Luke mutters a mere, "Thanks."

    Clearing my throat, I offer him an awkward nod and hang back to watch as he strategically fits it into his trunk. He closes the lid, wipes his palms across the back of his pants, and then turns his attention to me. "All done?"

     Unfortunately, we were. With nothing to distract any of us, we had all managed to tackle the backyard in a single hour. While Luke stored flower arrangements and decorations, I collected candles, lanterns, and silverware. And while Bryana put away leftovers and took out the trash, Luke and I worked together to break down tables and chairs. And now that we were done with that, there was officially nothing else left to do.

    I push my fingers into the pockets of the jeans that I'm now wearing, and nod, repeating him. "All done"

     For a brief second, soft blue eyes blink back at me, and I'm instantly reminded of Calum's words: He misses you. Underneath his gaze, the fuzzy sensation that had settled earlier starts to simmer.

     I wonder if this is the right time to ask for an opportunity to start over. To apologize. To get back to those cozy mornings and restless nights with him that I miss so so much. But then, Luke nods curtly, double-clicks the car alarm on his truck, and steps around me without another word; deciding for me.

     Well, there's that.

    I should let him go, I really should. He doesn't owe me anything, let alone a conversation, as I'm the reason we haven't spoken in days. I walked away from him when all he wanted was for me to stay and to have his back and to trust him.

    Dammit, I really need to make this right.

     Clamping my eyes shut, I swallow my anxiety and readily rush out, "Tonight was pretty fun, huh?"

     Eh, okay, Annie. Definitely not what I had in mind. But, it's a start.

    Luke's retreating figure slows to a stop and he turns glancing over his shoulder at me. For a slight second, he looks genuinely confused. Lines form between his eyebrows and his head tilts slightly; almost as if he doesn't understand why in the hell I would be talking to him.

     I don't blame him.

     We haven't said a single word to each other all day, not to mention the Bryana/Calum switch that made it clear that I was avoiding him, and now I choose to make conversation?

    Good going, Annie.

     But, still.

    This might be the only chance I have for a while to talk to him alone. So, I cross my right arm over my chest, cupping my left bicep, and press on, hopeful. "Not so bad, right?"

    At the sound of my voice, Luke blinks, eyes refocusing. He glances at the front door like there's something inside the house waiting for him, and he distractedly mumbles, "Uh, yeah."

    "Did you like dinner?"

    Luke pushes his hands in the pockets of his pants and distractedly kicks his foot against the graveled pathway. He nods, "Sure."

    This is a disaster. I can tell he wants to get away from me. It's not a good feeling. My stomach knots tight with regret and rejection and as I bow my head, giving up once again, I'm thankful that I cried all my tears out earlier. I tried and I tried again and, now, I'm done trying. There's no reason for me to keep taking blows to the heart. I step around him and head for the stairs, whispering, "Goodnight."

     Suddenly, Luke's sneakered foot stops kicking and he hastily shoots his arm out and wraps long fingers gently around my wrist. "Fuck, wait," he rushes, "I'm sorry."

     His touch is searing, like a fire iron straight out of the fire, and electricity shoots fast, sharp, fiery licks up my arm. I look up and stare straight into solemn eyes. Their charming, deep blue held the unprotected vulnerable truth that his face could no longer hide and I realized then that, just like me, he was trying too.

    This time when he speaks, his voice is softer, "Your mom was right about the caterers, the food was amazing."

     For a moment, I don't say anything. Partly because I'm still reeling from his touch, and also because, well, I'm caught off guard and now scurrying to find an answer. I clear my throat, "Better than your dad's homemade menu would've been?"

    Luke scoffs lightly and before I'm able to stop myself, I laugh. His eyes meet mine, unreadable, and shy, I duck my head. "What? Did you not like the Caprese salad?"

     "The Caprese salad had three ingredients that didn't need to be cooked." He disputes, from above me. I look up and he raises a suggestive eyebrow at me. It instantly reminds me of the playful boy I spent my entire summer with and my stomach flutters gently. Luke rolls his eyes, "As much as I really hate to admit it, no one's touching my dad in the kitchen."

     An instinctive smile spreads across my face at his response because as much as I hate to admit it, I wholeheartedly agree; Andrew is a natural chef. "You're right."

     "I always am."

     "Always?" I challenge.

      Luke looks down at me -- tousled hair, white shirt, dark eyes -- and suddenly it's there, out of nowhere, that feeling. The heat, the desire, the tingles; no longer simmering, but boiling right in the center of my stomach. "More or less."

    His handsome face is half-lit from the faint amber glow of the street lamps, and his lips part as he regards at me. I'm well aware that he's aware of the effect he has on me, but I don't shy away from him. I miss him too much. Staring straight at him, I quip, "Oh, so like the time you swore I was a drug dealer?"

A dimple curves into his cheek. "Consider that less, then." Slowly, fingers slip down my wrist, folding themselves inside my hand and intertwining with mine and, he breathes in deeply. "Do you miss me?"

  I struggle to meet his eyes, but when I finally build up to courage to do so, he's gazing at me with wonder. I answer instantly, "Yes."

     His eyes are dark, lips parted, and he's breathing as hard as I am. "So, come here." Pressing his fingers tighter against mine, he tugs on my wrist; encouraging, but not completely pulling me to him.

    He's letting me make that decision on my own. And I want to, I really do. But, we're moving based on old habits; fighting and making up, without actually making up and I don't want to do that anymore.

I shake my head. Luke closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and when he opens them again, they are a blazing, steely blue. "You're telling me, no?"

    "Yes."

    "Why?"

    "There's something I have do first," I begin, ready to right my wrongs. "Can we talk?"

—

Ended this a little abruptly because the next part needed editing and I didn't want to make you guys wait any longer .

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