𝗥𝗢𝗢𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗦, ʟᴜᴋᴇ ʜᴜɢʜᴇs

seventeen

THE morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting a warm glow over the room. Charlotte-Alexandria hadn't slept much, her mind replaying the conversation from the night before, her heart heavy with doubt. She had barely gotten any rest, but as the first rays of the sun touched her face, she decided it was time to get up.

Just as she was about to pull herself out of bed, there was a soft knock at her door. Before she could respond, Luke poked his head in, his familiar smile spreading across his face.

"Morning, Alex," he said, his voice warm and comforting. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "How are you feeling?"

Charlotte forced a smile, sitting up in bed. "I'm okay, I guess. Just tired."

Luke walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to gently tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. "You sure? You seemed a little off last night. Did something happen?"

For a moment, Charlotte hesitated. She wasn't sure how to bring it up, how to tell him that a random girl's words had cut her so deeply. But she knew she had to say something. If they were going to move forward, she needed to be honest with him.

"Luke..." she started, her voice trembling slightly. "There's something I need to tell you about last night. At the party."

He frowned slightly but kept his tone soft, concerned. "What happened? Did someone say something to you?"

She nodded, taking a deep breath before continuing. "There was this girl. She wasn't one of the WAGs, but she was friends with one of them. She... she told me that you two had hooked up before. And then she said that after you hooked up, you started acting all lovey with her and then just dropped her."

Luke's expression hardened instantly, the warmth in his eyes fading. He pulled back slightly, his hand dropping from her hair. "And you believed her?" His tone was now cold, almost accusatory.

Charlotte blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in his demeanor. "I didn't say that I believed her, but it worried me, Luke. She made it sound like it was something you do."

"So what? You're going to believe some random girl over me? Alex, she's probably just trying to stir up drama. It was nothing."

"It didn't sound like nothing, Luke. She said you made her feel special and then just ghosted her. How do you think that makes me feel? Like you could do the same thing to me!"

Luke shrugged, brushing it off as if it were nothing. "That was before you and I even started talking. Why does it matter now?"

"It matters because I don't know if I can trust you!" Charlotte's voice cracked with emotion. "How do I know you won't just get bored and move on, like you did with her?"

His jaw clenched as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Alex, you're overreacting. I've changed, okay? I'm not that guy anymore."

She shook her head, the frustration mounting. "You've been here for six months, Luke. How much could you really have changed in that time? You've barely been out of college, and now you're telling me you're suddenly different?"

His tone turned defensive, almost harsh. "What, you don't believe me? You think I'm just going to mess around with you and then leave? That's not fair, Alex."

"It's not about fairness, Luke. It's about how you're making me feel right now." She took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, but her voice still wavered. "And the way you're dismissing this... dismissing me... it's making it worse."

Luke huffed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not dismissing you. You're just making a big deal out of nothing."

Charlotte stared at him, tears filling her eyes. "A big deal out of nothing? Fine. If that's how you feel, then maybe we don't have anything else to talk about."

Without waiting for his response, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her heart pounding in her chest. She made her way to the kitchen, hoping to calm herself down. She began preparing something for a quick meal, trying to distract herself from the conversation. Shrimp, trotted over and nuzzled her leg, sensing her distress. His presence was a small comfort in the midst of her turmoil.

Luke stood in the room, still fuming. He didn't understand why she was so upset, why she couldn't just believe him when he said he was different. But even as he tried to rationalize it, a nagging feeling of guilt gnawed at him. Maybe he had been too harsh.

After a few minutes, Luke remembered he had left his hoodie in her room earlier when he'd been with her before the party. He sighed, deciding to retrieve it, if only to have something to do besides stand there and stew in his frustration.

When he reached her room, he hesitated for a moment before knocking lightly. "Alex?" he called, but there was no answer. Figuring she needed space, he pushed the door open just enough to slip inside.

His hoodie was sitting on the edge of the bed, just where he had left it. But as he reached for it, something else caught his eye—the nightstand drawer, slightly ajar. Inside, something was peeking out. Luke's curiosity got the better of him, and he pulled the drawer open a bit more.

What he found stopped him in his tracks: a small sketchpad. He carefully picked it up and flipped it open, his eyes widening as he realized what it contained.

Page after page was filled with sketches of him—some detailed and lifelike, others more abstract, but all unmistakably him. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the images, each one capturing a moment, an expression, a side of him that he hadn't even known she was paying attention to.

For a long moment, Luke just stood there, holding the sketchpad, his mind racing. He hadn't expected this—hadn't realized just how much he meant to her. The weight of it all hit him like a ton of bricks.

"Alex..." he murmured under his breath, but when he looked up, he saw that she was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and her eyes red from crying.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of her hurt and anger.

Luke slowly closed the sketchpad and set it down on the bed. "I'm sorry," he said, but the words felt inadequate. He knew he had messed up—knew he had hurt her in a way that he hadn't intended.

Charlotte-Alexandria didn't say anything. She just stood there, waiting for him to leave.

Feeling more like an intruder than her boyfriend—no, not even that, since they hadn't made anything official—Luke grabbed his hoodie and walked out of the room, his heart heavy with regret. He had seen a side of her that was vulnerable, raw, and now he wasn't sure how to make it right.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Luke knew he had a lot to think about. And for the first time in a long while, he wasn't sure if he had the answers.

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