Strangers To Lovers

Chapter Thirty-Eight

“You only need to pick up the flowers from the location where I purchased them, Luke. If you couldn’t manage last time, at least be considerate and polite this time. We’re meeting Aiden and his wife next week, and I want to make a good impression,” my mother’s voice rang through the phone, sharp and insistent. She was always like this—expectations, appearances, never-ending pressure.

“Let her recommend the dinner since she chose the place,” she added, her voice growing distant in my head as a dull ache began to creep up my skull. The taste of stale alcohol lingered on my tongue, making it even harder to focus.

I sat hunched over the bathroom sink, gripping the cold porcelain to keep my stomach from rebelling. It took everything I had not to hurl. My mother’s high-pitched voice seemed to jab at my brain like a relentless hammer, compounding the headache that already had me in its grip.

“When was the last time I even got drunk?” I muttered to myself. I couldn’t remember. I had been in control, or at least I thought I had been, until last night. Last night was a disaster, and now I had to face the consequences.

“Luke! Are you listening?” My mother’s voice snapped me back to the conversation.

“Yes, I’m listening,” I grumbled, rubbing my temple in an attempt to alleviate the pounding in my head.

“I barely drank anything,” I lied, my hand moving to massage the tension in my neck. “What’s the big deal?”

“What’s the big deal?” she repeated, incredulous. “You embarrassed yourself in front of that girl. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

I sighed deeply, pulling the phone away from my ear and staring at the ceiling as if the answer to all my problems could be found up there. “Mom, I’m not discussing this now.”

“Fine,” she snapped. “But make sure Claire doesn’t see you acting dishonorably. You’re expected to meet her tonight, remember?”

I rolled my eyes, counting to three before responding. “I’ll be there.”

As the call ended, I collapsed onto my bed, covering my face with a pillow to block out the sunlight streaming in through the curtains. Every bone in my body ached, and my stomach churned as I recalled the mess I’d made with Ella the night before. The memory of vomiting in front of her was enough to make me groan in embarrassment. I was sure I’d blown my last chance with her. Why would she ever want to deal with someone like me?

My life wasn’t my own, and it felt like every step I took was dictated by my mother. Even when Levi returned after all those years, he didn’t bother asking how I was doing. He had his own reasons for being here, but he hadn’t shared them with me. That jerk—showing up out of the blue and not even caring about what I was going through.

Levi had been distant, and now that he was back, everything felt even more chaotic. It was like my life was being ripped apart, and no matter how hard I tried to hold it together, it was slipping through my fingers.

I checked my phone, hoping for some distraction from my spiraling thoughts. A text message appeared from an unknown number.

Claire: *We’ll be at a casual place tonight. Jeans and t-shirts will do. Hope you don’t mind getting your fingers dirty ;) *

I exhaled sharply. Claire. Of course, another date to keep the peace between our families. Her attempt at being casual grated on my nerves, but I couldn’t help the flicker of a smile when I imagined Ella in jeans and a maroon t-shirt. She looked good in anything.

No. Stop thinking about Ella.

But I couldn’t help it. My thoughts kept circling back to her. I had to stop, or I’d drive myself insane.

I showered, trying to wash away the shame and regret from the night before. My mother’s voice rang in my ears as I dressed, her expectations hanging over me like a dark cloud. Casual. Jeans and a t-shirt. It wasn’t me, but I’d go through the motions, as I always did.

By the time I pulled up to the Buffalo Wild Wings, I understood why Claire had suggested casual wear. I glanced at my white shirt and slacks, feeling out of place. Even with her warning, I hadn’t been able to break away from the formality drilled into me.

Claire stood by her car, a sleek BMW, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt just as she had said. She waved me over with a bright smile.

“Is that the 2015 model?” she called out, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

I nodded, offering a half-smile. “It is. You drive this and we’re eating here?” I gestured toward the restaurant behind us.

She laughed, a light, carefree sound that almost put me at ease. “You can drive a nice car and still pay ten bucks for wings, Luke.”

I chuckled despite myself. “Touché.”

We walked inside, and the restaurant’s casual vibe was a stark contrast to the tension that hung between us. Claire was nice enough, I supposed, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was just going through the motions, pretending to be something I wasn’t.

As we sat down, Claire turned to me, her elbows resting on the table as she studied my face. “You’re not interested in me, are you?” she asked bluntly, a hint of self-deprecation in her voice.

I blinked, caught off guard by her candor. “What?”

She smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s fine. I can tell you’re thinking about someone else.”

I opened my mouth to deny it, but no words came out. She was right. My mind had been on Ella the entire time.

Claire sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Look, we don’t have to pretend. Our parents want us to be here, but if we’re both miserable, what’s the point?”

I stared at her, unsure of what to say. She wasn’t wrong, but I hadn’t expected her to be so direct.

“I’m not miserable,” I finally said, though even I didn’t believe it.

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re a terrible liar, Luke. But it’s okay. I don’t want to be here either.”

Her honesty took me by surprise, and for the first time that evening, I felt like I could breathe. “So, what now?” I asked.

Claire shrugged. “We play along. Have dinner, act like we’re enjoying ourselves, and then go back to our separate lives. No pressure.”

I nodded slowly, relieved that she wasn’t going to push for anything more. “Sounds like a plan.”

We spent the rest of the evening talking, but there was no real connection. It was a temporary truce, a way to keep our families happy without getting too involved. As the night wore on, I couldn’t help but think about Ella again, wondering what she was doing, if she was thinking about me, too.

By the time we finished dinner and said our goodbyes, I knew one thing for sure—I couldn’t keep pretending. Not with Claire. Not with anyone. Something had to change.

As I drove home, the thought of Ella lingered in my mind. I had to find a way to fix things with her, to show her that I wasn’t the same person I had been last night. But would she even give me another chance?

I didn’t know, but I had to try.