second chances // l.h

three

Micah patted my back multiple times while Sam ran off to the nearest concession stand and asked for napkins to wipe myself with.

Luke? He stood about ten feet away, smoking a cigarette and looking over every other few seconds.

I finally stood up, hands on my head. Sam came back, a bundle of paper towels in his fist. I took a couple and wiped my mouth tossing them in the trashcan.

Micah kicked sand over my pathetic puke pile. I grabbed my bag, taking Micah's hand and motioned to Sam, who came to my side, becoming a barrier between me and Luke.

When he saw us trying to leave, he flicked his cigarette into the burning sand, which extinguished it immediately.

"Hey, hey, hey. I didn't say you could leave." Luke said, sidestepping Sam and facing me, causing me to cower behind Micah, who took a defensive step in front.

"Hey, buddy. You don't tell anyone what to do," Micah snapped, gritting his teeth. I assumed he knew who Luke was. I told him everything, but never a physical description.

But by the way everyone was acting, I bet he knew exactly who Luke was.

Luke was tall. We all knew that. Surprisingly, Micah was also about the same height, if not a couple centimeters shorter.

I bit my lip, feeling the vile crawling back up my throat. I couldn't believe how physically repulsed I was by him. I couldn't stand looking at him.

He looked smug, disgustingly smug, and I wanted to hurl all over again.

"Luke." I spoke feebly, catching his attention his head whipping in my direction and I saw his features soften.

"Let me go..."

I had imagined what it would be like seeing Luke again. I had imagines about a trillion different scenarios and this was not one of them.

I forgave him in all the scenarios. I pretended he hadn't hurt me like that.

But that anger and that hurt was very much present right now.

So when I saw his lips turn up in what was going to be his infamous smirk, I swung at him and punched his perfect lips, hoping his stupid hoop did me a favor and cut him.

I walked around him in a fit of fury. I forgot completely about Sam and Micah, my mind clouded with anger. "What the fuck," Luke groaned, "Cheyanne get back here!"

I took off running and I heard numerous feet hitting the sand as well. Sam caught up soon and Luke followed, leaving Micah behind. We were back on the sidewalk, amidst the heavy crowds of Santa Monica. 

I was panting, and I was so unfit and my stomach was hurting. I leaned my hand son my knees and Sam advised, "Head up, arms up," as if he had completely forgotten that we were in a dire situation.

Luke came up to me and grabbed my arm, almost yanking my arm from my socket and away from Samuel. 

"Cheyanne, look at me," He pleaded. I was crying. I hadn't cried in such a long time and it felt awful, my chest was clamping shut and I was in pain. I couldn't look at him. Sam moved towards us and grabbed Luke's wrist.

"Why don't you let her go?" He said through gritted teeth.

Luke's head snapped to Sam. "You can shut up. She disappointed me. Don't you think I deserve an explanation?"

Sam looked like he was going to punch Luke as well; speaking of which, his lip was bleeding and his lip ring was twisted.

I shook, watching Micah show up behind Luke. They could take him, both of them against Luke, if they tried.

When Luke felt Micah behind him, he let me go and turned to him. "Please, just let me talk to her. For a couple minutes." His hard demeanor was still there, although his words were much more pleading and vulnerable sounding.

"No. No. No," I repeated, a sob in my throat. Micah walked up behind me, claiming me again and tugging me towards him. "Can't you see you're upsetting her, dude?"

Luke bit his lip, wincing when his teeth grazed his wound.

"Please."

Micah sighed rubbing a hand over his face, struggling to compose himself. "Micah... I wanna go home." I whispered in his shirt, hiding.

Micah led me away, a hand on the small on my back. But not before Luke grabbed my hand. "Chey, I wanna talk. You have my number. Call me. Please."

I broke free from Micah, suddenly more angry than sad. "No! I don't have your number! You know why? Because after you left," my voice cracked and I ran my hand through my hair. "... After you left... Fuck you, Luke. Fuck. You."

I grabbed Micah and proceeded to keep walking down the street, glancing behind only to see if Sam was behind us.

Luke didn't try to follow me and I don't know if that even hurt anymore. I didn't feel anything when it dealt with Luke Hemmings. He was a prick and I hated him with all my body, with all the anger I could possess.

.

When we all got home, I convinced Micah I was well enough to be alone. "Are you sure, babe? You had a rough day."

I shook him off, my hands in my hair again. "I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm going to go shower okay?"

I didn't wait for a respond before I climbed the grand staircase and left them downstairs.

"I love you," he called up. "I know..."

I could hear the both of them talking in whispers as I readied myself for a shower. When I locked the door, I stood in front of the mirror, and stared. I stared real hard and I tried to look at myself in a different light.

I chewed on my lip for a little bit and then I started crying. I started crying. I couldn't believe he was back, almost like I couldn't believe he had kissed me in that backroom in that library all those months ago.

He was back and it looked like he wasn't going away. He was back and I was hurting. He was back and I couldn't see myself doing anything else but think about what he was doing and if he was going to come back.

He was back and he was consuming me.

Just like the red...

God the red was everywhere.

And when it wasn't red. It was a sweet array of pink and white and blue and grey pills. A wonderful rainbow of the pain that stupid asshole had caused me.