Home Away From Home

Chapter Eleven

DAY THIRTY ONE
I went to Calum's game by myself yesterday, and Luke and I had a small fight before I left. Something more about how he's terriortial over something (i.e. me) he has no right to, and then me telling him to grow something (i.e. a pair) and just go with me. In the end I went alone, and he stayed behind to pout.
I've been here a month already. It's insane. In this month I have accomplished more things (not all good) on a personal and emotional level than I have on any of the exchange trips I've been on before-- those personal and emotional things being closely related to Luke and my attachments.
Living with the Hemmings has been different from any other families I've lived with. Instead of feeling like a visiting relative, I feel like I grew up down the street, and the Hemmings have been my second family while my emotionally distant, power-crazed parents worked all the time. (My parents are neither, but maybe if we lived here they would be.)
Not to mention none of the other families had kids my age, and if they did, they were weird as heck. Luke is my age, weird but in a good way, and attractive. DING DING DING.
I blame Liz. Liz is so kind and naturally maternal that I felt loved the moment I saw her face. Not to mention the fact that she's an impeccable mother. I mean all of her boys have grown up to be wonderful-- even Luke. Though he's troubled, he's a well-rounded kid.
I blame Andy. Andy doesn't tip-toe around me. He's not afraid to make me angry or sad or laugh until I cry. He's real with me, and that's so crucial to the development of relationships.
And I blame Luke. Luke interrupts my feelings of comfort with his parents by making me feel more like a visiting love interest. Yeah, we're there. Love interest. Am I fifty? I don't care. As soon as Luke walks in the room, I feel my face flush, and I suddenly become extrememly conscious of what I say or how I act-- like I'm trying to impress his parents. Or, more likely, him.

This past week or so with Luke has made me wish he never came around. He really still hasn't, but the days he comes into my room, sits in his chair, and asks me questions like I'm an 8 Ball would like to prove otherwise.
I wish Luke was still has turned off by me as the morning we met face-to-face in the bathroom doorway.
I fell asleep on the couch again the other night. Technically we did. I had fallen asleep to Spongebob, but I woke up when I heard Luke get off the couch. I was too tired to go to my bed, so I just stayed put. Luke brought me a blanket again, but instead of going back to his room, he laid back down on the couch and covered us both up with blankets. Cheeky little bastard. I don't know if I've ever explained what kind of couch they have upstairs: it's like a shorter sectional so it looks like an L. He laid his head next to mine-- purposely.
I woke up with my head pressed against Luke's neck while his head practically rested on mine like a pillow. I won't pretend like I was upset or anything, but I wasn't impressed with him. I could have confronted him about it, but I think I'll wait until he's a little more distant.
Today was Farmers Market day, Liz had told me. I had woken up refreshed and excited for a day with Liz. She'd been kind of busy lately, but today was a day just for me, she said. Liz had warned me yesterday that we'd need to get an early start if we wanted to get the best stuff. I want to get the best stuff. I was up and ready to go. I had done my hair the night before-- slept in curls is the new black. I didn't mean to look too farmy, but growing up in a small town, I definitely have the resources to do so. I wore classic ripped boyfriend capris, my converse, and a lightweight, loose cotton-up. Classic.
As we were walking out the door, Liz leading, I felt something being put on my head. I turned around to see a trying-to-stay-straight-faced Luke. He had put one of his hats on my head. It was too big so it fell to my eyes. I blushed for whatever reason. Luke made me feel like a defenseless little kid whose only hope of protection is him. It angers me that I've gone from "I can't stand your inflated sense of self" to "I need your inflated sense of self to safely carry me away from the dangers of life" in a matter of weeks.
How does he do it?
I gave Luke an appreciative smile/nod thing and left the house. I adjusted the hat before I got into the car with Liz, who immediately recognized the hat.
She smiled to herself. "Looks good."
"Thanks," I said warily, knowing that wasn't the end of the conversation.
"You know," she began. I braced myself. "when we applied for an exchange student, one of the strict suggestions we're held to is no romantic relationships between the students, and--"
"Oh, we're not..." I cut her off only to be cut off by her.
"Let me finish. Like I said, it's a suggestion-- a strict one, but a suggestion nonetheless, and as a mom, not a host mom, I've never seen Luke happier. Granted, I may be overexaggerating a bit, but you've really had an impact on him." Liz smiled while looking at me with deep and sincere eyes.
I'm pretty sure my face turned as red as the tomatoe we'll find at the market, and I failed to bite back my smile. "Well, I don't want to start something just to end it."
I spoke honestly to her, finally gaining the confidence to do so.
"I understand. I'm not pushing you to start anything, trust me. I'm just letting you know that I've seen things and am aware of what's happening." She's smiled proudly to herself, as if she feels like she's more aware of whatever is between me and Luke than we are ourselves.
Right.
I simply nodded, and we changed the subject to planning for the week. We pulled into a parking spot a ways from the market itself, but we grabbed our things and set out. It was packed.
Where we started it was all crafty stations. I picked up a few things like a jewled bowl for my mom's jewelry and a necklace for my sister. I had already bought my sister over seventy dollars worth of things, but I couldn't help myself. We continued to wander our way through, getting some food here, buying some trickets there, another stop for some drinks, and a quick detour to the clothes and accessories.
By the time we got to the actual produce part of the market, our hands were full. Liz and I picked out some fruits and vegetables-- some new to me. We decided to make a meal of things and picked up some other essentials.
"You're making supper tonight." Liz beamed at me, and my stomach swirled. I'd really rather not.
"I don't want to ruin the stuff we buy today though..." I tried to wiggle my way out of it, but her idea was in a vice grip.
"Oh, you'll be fine. Make us some American cuisine." She laughed and turned to lead the way before I could protest.
How am I supposed to make American cuisine when nothing in America is signaturely American?
We made an equal amount of stops on the way out as we did on our way in, and by the time we got back to the car, it was well into the afternoon.
I googled "American meals" on our way home.
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filler chapter, but thanks for reading!!!!!!!!!! :)