The Road Trip

• Fourteen •

I liked him.

I felt it in my diaphragm. It squeezed itself so tight, it popped my heart out of place. I was trying to catch it, but it was coated in oil.

I couldn't like him. This was supposed to be casual. I didn't put myself in vulnerable situations—I wasn't the person who cared more than the other. I couldn't care more than Luke—of all people. I was not going to give him another opportunity to hurt me.

I wasn't processing the words he was saying. I watched his mouth move, and I thought it was something about how he was sorry he was five minutes late, but this old lady kept talking his ear off and he didn't want to be rude. Then it was something about how he for sure thought I'd still be sleeping. But his words were overlaid with static. He was holding coffee and donuts. His eyes were distracting me. He was looking at me excitedly, intensely, and affectionately—taking me in like I was a double freaking rainbow.

I was just staring at him like he was a stranger who had walked into the wrong hotel room and mistaken me for someone he knew.

"I got you your favorite," I heard Luke say in a muffled voice.

He closed in, smiling at me, before I could react. He bent at his shoulders. He was coming for my lips.

I turned my head.

I turned my fucking head.

Luke's kiss landed just on the outside of my lips.

He winced. "All right," he stated an inch from my face and dropped his smile. He straightened, handed me my coffee, and placed the box of donuts on the television stand when he turned around.

"Is your suitcase ready for me to take down to the car?" he asked without turning around. He started shoving things into every zipper, completely out of character. Dirty mixed with clean, his shoes in the wrong compartment, his toiletry bag not even closed.

My body went into fast forward. "I got it," I said too quickly.

"Reese," he said, slamming both of ours shut at the same time. "It's fine." He picked both of them up vertically on their wheels, did a one eighty, and glided past me. "It's fine," he repeated before he was out the door.

Shit. That couldn't have gone worse. I felt hollow, trembling slightly at how much I'd just screwed up.

I picked up a donut and shoved it into my mouth. I picked up another. I stewed. I trembled. I kicked myself—metaphorically.

I went into the bathroom to gather the things that were supposed to go in my suitcase. I made it to the parking lot after dropping something every six feet.

Luke saw me out of the corner of his eye come out of the sliding doors. He slipped his phone in his pocket and pushed himself off the side of car, where he'd been leaning against it texting.

He watched me take another couple of steps, debating with himself. I thought I saw him sigh.

I knew this was going to be complicated, right? I knew what I was getting myself into. He didn't want to start a relationship. He didn't have the time to put in the effort. New relationships can't survive on that. I'd never in my life even wanted a relationship. So what was I so worked up about. I knew I still didn't want one. But maybe I wanted... something? And I walked right into a trap I set for myself.

Luke was the only person I'd ever had a crush on—ten years ago. Why the hell did I think it wasn't possible for it to come rushing back? I thought I'd made myself impenetrable. I thought I'd become immune to caring.

I'd never believed in the right person at the wrong time theory before, but as he walked
toward me, shortening the distance between us with every step, I couldn't help but think that this was what was happening.