paper rings (l.h.)

45

We had left the park right afterwards, packing up the neglected journal and guitar back into the SUV, Luke allowing me in before he did so himself. His hand reached over to grab mine, gave it a soft squeeze, I knew he could read my mind as he whispered: "we'll be okay."

The car ride was longer than it was before, Luke's music playing under the hum of the car as it made its way down the bustling highway leading into the city. I was tired, emotionally and physically. I felt a shaky breath exit my chest as I looked over at him, at the way his eyes illuminated in the warm yellow streetlights that cast its light through his windshield. I nodded as if I believed it, and turned towards the road.

"I think I'm going to quit the bookstore," I say as we reach the bottom steps of his apartment, I stand on the bottom of the steps while he dials in the code. He turns back to me as his door creeks open, cold air from the AC hitting me from where I stand a few feet away.

"Yeah?" He asks, holding it open for me as I walk up the stairs, into the foyer. I kick my shoes off of my feet, dropping my journal on the table beside the bowl of keys.

"It's boring, and I've read all the books in the place," I grumble, walking over to the sofa and lying flat on my back.

He walks over, slow footsteps approaching me. I looked up at the ceiling until he sat right beside me, looking down at my tired eyes, slow words. "Where would you work, then, if not the bookstore?"

"Whoever's hiring," I sigh, turning my head to face him as nothing but the ticking of the clock on the wall and the AC filled our — his apartment. "There's that diner, down in the square..." my voice trails off. "Tractor supply."

"Or," he whispers, "you'll work for me, and I will pay you royalties. For your contribution."

"I'll still work," I reach forward, cupping his face in my hands. He leans into my touch, closing his eyes. "I'll buy myself a car, and I'll drive to you."

His lips turn into a smile. "I'll buy you a car."

"Luke," I groan, sitting up on my elbows as my face turns sour. His eyebrows raise as I snap. "You're missing my point. I'm already the nobody who somehow got involved with Luke Hemmings. What are people going to think if I go from making $13 bucks an hour, to driving around a new car working part time at a diner?"

He rolls his eyes. "Since when have you cared about what anyone else thinks? And let them speculate. I know how genuine our love is, and how this is the only relationship where I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you'd love me if I was anyone else."

"It's not that I care about what they have to say about us," I sigh.

"It's not fair, Mary," he scoffs. "Why must I have all this money, but not use it on the woman I love? Certainly it is too much to use in a lifetime by myself."

"Then donate it," I scoff. "I'll let you use your money on me once I have enough to do the same for you. It is not fair nowadays, when my paychecks are only three hundred dollars for two weeks, and I cannot even pay the airfare to LA."

"And if I bought a ring," he said after a pause. One so long, I thought he'd have been angry at my response. His soft voice, his gaze strong. "Would you be upset at that?"

"I..." I begin, flustered. His eyes studied me. "That's different."

He smirks at how red I became, how easy it was to throw me off of my feet. I groan before throwing myself back onto the couch.

"You understand what I am trying to say," I continue. "Yet you refuse to hear me out."

"I am hearing you out, darling," he reaches over to take my chin in his hand, gently moving my head to face his eyes. "I'm sorry for being so obnoxious with it. I just... I want you beside me. I don't care how much it costs. If it's a private jet I find myself in, then I guess you'll be in that jet with me."