Too Close For Comfort (LH) (PT1&2)

12. Dumpster Diver Luke

I woke up to an overwhelmingly familiar scent. It burned my nose, drowning me in complete bliss. My heart ached as the scent reminded me yet again of the one person I couldn't have.

My heart wasn't the only thing that ached. My knuckles were throbbing! When I sat up I got a clear view of my bed across the room. "What the-," I looked down, scrunching the black sheets up in my hand. Releasing it, watching as if it falls back in wrinkles.

"How-," before I could finish the statement the bathroom door opened and out came a shirtless Luke who was drying off his mouth. His blue eyes met mine and I could feel the dramatic rise and fall of my chest.

He swallowed hard, looking down at his feet, "how ya feeling?" My mouth was dry, hanging open slightly. I looked around for anything to jog my memory. How'd I end up here?

Luke sat down beside me, taking my hands in his. He examined my knuckles, pulling a tube of Neosporin out the pocket of his sweatpants. His touch burned my skin with a chilly blaze, sending chills down my arm.

"Didn't know I still had that effect on you," he teased. His eyes skimmed down the trail of goosebumps he had made before refocusing on my hand. He dabbed small drops of the cream onto any open cuts.

"What are you doing?" My voice was like a light whisper. He had managed to completely knock the wind out of me.

He tilted his head as he continued to doctor my wounds. "You have two very feisty women in this house who despise me along with their boyfriends," once he was satisfied with the job he had done he tossed the tube to the side, blowing the cream dry. My breath hitched as his cool air smoothed over my hand. His blue eyes floated up to mine. The corner of his mouth tugged up into a small grin, "I'm hiding."

Luke's gentle tone was welcoming, but I knew at any given moment he could flip a switch and his mood would change. Without breaking eye contact, he placed my hand down, leaning closer to me. The covers ruffled under his weight. His face had to be within four inches of mine. He found my other hand in the midst of all the covers and pulled it up so he could doctor it.

I exhaled, examining his face. I sat up a bit, so I didn't need the support of my arms. Though my actions made us physically closer he didn't move. Without thinking about it I reached out and hooked his chin with my fingers, lifting it to examine the bruise on his jaw, "your lips busted."

His fingers slowly clamped around my wrist, breaking himself from my hold so he could continue applying the cream. "Sorry," I looked away.

Luke finished up, catching me off guard when he reset my hand so I was holding his chin again. I looked back at him. This time he allowed me to examine his wounds, tilting his head back willingly, giving me a much better view of it, "what happened? Who hit you?"

"I like your hair,"  he complimented me, "I'll miss the brown, but the blonde is a nice change."

"It'll grow back," I mumbled quickly, hoping he would answer my question. I would gladly fight whoever, guy or girl, laid a finger on him, "Luke who hit you?"

"Based on the boxes of dye you left all over the bathroom floor, probably the same person who dyed your hair."

My eyes widened, and my hand fell, "Michael hit you?" I could never see Michael getting physical with Luke. I could also never see myself getting physical with Michael, so I guess he was safe from me.