Strangers To Lovers

Chapter Twelve.

Luke glanced at me as soon as he spotted me. His gaze lingered longer than usual, and I tried to ignore it, but the way his eyes tracked my every move made it impossible to pretend nothing was wrong. I could feel the weight of his stare, burning into me, no matter where I looked. It wasn’t just curiosity—there was something intense, almost possessive, in the way he watched me. My skin prickled under the scrutiny, and I felt my heart rate pick up.

I poked at the spaghetti on my plate, trying to focus on something else, anything but him. But even as I did, I could see out of the corner of my eye that he hadn’t touched his food. The tomato sauce from the meatballs dripped down his chin, but he didn’t bother to wipe it away. It was like he was too distracted by something else—me.

A shiver ran down my spine, and I forced myself to look away. Why was he acting like this? I’d noticed the change in him recently, how his usual cool indifference had been replaced by something more intense, more unsettling. Every move I made, he tracked. Every word I spoke, he absorbed. It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t like Luke.

“Is something wrong?” I finally asked, breaking the silence. My voice was shaky, betraying the calm I was trying so hard to maintain.

His eyes flickered, and for a second, I thought he would actually answer. But then, he shrugged, a half-hearted gesture that did nothing to alleviate the tension. “No,” he said shortly, his voice flat.

I waited, hoping he would elaborate, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned his attention back to his plate, stabbing at the meatballs without much enthusiasm. The silence between us stretched on, thick and suffocating.

"You're not eating your meatballs," he finally said, breaking the awkward silence.

I glanced down at my plate. I hadn’t touched the food either, too distracted by his odd behavior. "I don’t really like spaghetti and meatballs," I admitted quietly, feeling a little guilty for not mentioning it earlier.

His brows furrowed. "Then why didn’t you say something? I could’ve made something else."

"I didn’t want to ruin dinner," I said, shrugging. "You seemed to enjoy it."

He gave me a long, searching look, his gaze softening for just a moment. It was almost as if he cared. But then, just as quickly, his expression hardened again. He went back to picking at his food, leaving me wondering if I had imagined the whole thing.

I felt the urge to say something, to ask him what was going on, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I pulled out my phone, looking for a distraction. A message popped up from my boss, asking if I could cover the early morning shift. I groaned inwardly. It was already late, and the idea of getting up at dawn wasn’t appealing.

“Something wrong?” Luke asked, glancing up from his plate. There was that softness again, that strange mix of concern and detachment in his eyes. Like he didn’t want to care, but somehow couldn’t help it.

“It’s my boss,” I explained, sighing. “Wants me to open the shop tomorrow. I’ll have to leave soon.”

Luke set down his fork, his expression tightening. "You’re always working. You shouldn’t have to go in tomorrow."

I laughed softly, trying to lighten the mood. "I need the money, Luke."

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you have to run yourself ragged."

There was an edge to his voice, something protective that I hadn’t heard before. It threw me off, making me wonder if maybe there was more to his behavior than I’d thought. Was he worried about me? I looked at him, trying to figure out what was going on behind those piercing eyes, but Luke was good at keeping his emotions buried deep.

"I’ll be fine," I reassured him, though I wasn’t sure if I believed it myself.

He sighed, shaking his head. "I’ll drive you home."

The ride back was quiet, the tension between us palpable. The radio played softly in the background, but even that did little to ease the awkwardness. I kept stealing glances at him, wondering if I should say something, ask him what was really bothering him. But the words never came. Luke’s jaw was clenched, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. Whatever was going on inside his head, he wasn’t ready to share it with me.

When we pulled up outside my apartment, a strange sense of unease settled over me. Something felt off. I stared up at my window, noticing that the lights were on. But I was sure I had turned them off before leaving. My stomach twisted.

“Something wrong?” Luke asked, his voice cutting through my thoughts.

“I don’t think I left the lights on,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. A feeling of dread crawled up my spine.

Luke’s expression darkened. "Stay in the car."

"No," I said quickly, my fear pushing me to move. "I’ll come with you."

Together, we approached the door. The closer we got, the more certain I became that something was wrong. The door was slightly ajar, a sliver of darkness visible inside. My heart pounded in my chest.

Without waiting for my permission, Luke pushed the door open. What I saw made my breath catch in my throat. My apartment was a disaster. Furniture was overturned, books thrown haphazardly across the floor. My TV was gone, along with anything else that had any value. It was like someone had ransacked the place in a hurry, not caring what they destroyed in the process.

"Oh my god..." I whispered, stepping inside, feeling the overwhelming shock settle over me like a weight. This was my home. My safe space. And now it was gone, destroyed by some faceless intruder.

Luke was already on the phone, talking to the police, his voice steady and calm. He handled the situation with the kind of control I couldn’t muster. My legs felt weak as I stumbled further into the room, trying to make sense of what had happened. I had never felt so vulnerable, so exposed.

Luke finished his call and turned to me, his face grim. “They’re on their way.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. My eyes darted around the room, trying to take in the damage. It was like looking at a stranger’s home. Nothing felt familiar anymore. Nothing felt safe.

Luke walked over to me, his hand resting lightly on my shoulder. “It’s going to be okay,” he said softly. For the first time, his voice carried a warmth that was foreign to me, a gentleness I hadn’t expected.

I looked up at him, meeting his gaze. His eyes, usually so guarded and cold, were soft now, full of a concern that felt genuine. The walls he usually kept up between us had crumbled, if only for a moment. And in that moment, I felt a connection to him I hadn’t before.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice shaky.

Luke nodded, his hand lingering on my shoulder for a second longer before he stepped back. "I’m not leaving until the police get here. And if you need to, you can stay at my place tonight. You shouldn’t be alone after this."

I opened my mouth to protest, but the words died on my lips. Maybe he was right. Maybe I shouldn’t be alone tonight. I didn’t trust myself to be strong enough for that.