Everyone watched us as we walked together to our lab table. I noticed that Luke no longer angled the chair to sit as far from me as the desk would allow. Instead, he sat quite close beside me, our fingers reaching for each other as we held our hands together under the table.
Mr. Banner had a video for us to watch, one of those old black and white ones that should by all intents and purposed be burned a long time ago.
As the video flickered to life my eyes, of their own accord, flickered to him. I smiled as I realized his posture was identical to mine, right down to the golden hazel eyes, peering sideways at me. He grinned back, his eyes seemingly glowing in the dark. I looked away before it became how obviously dizzy I was getting.
The hour seemed very long. I tried to concentrate on the movie but his hand holding mine under the table was sending electric currents throughout my body. Occasionally I would try to relax and permit myself a quick glance in his direction, but it was hard not to notice that he wasn't entirely relaxed either. The overpowering craving to hold him also refused to fade so I settled by tracing circles around his palm with my thumb.
I breathed a sigh of relief when Mr. Banner flicked the lights back on at the end of class, and stretched my arms out in front of me, stumbling a little as I stood. Luke chuckled beside me.
"Did you enjoy the movie?" he asked. His voice was almost laughing at me in a sarcastic way.
"I'm afraid I wasn't paying much attention," I said with a smirk.
"I'm not sure I was either. Shall we?" he asked, rising fluidly and holding out his hand again for me to hold.
He walked me to my next class in silence and paused at the door; I turned to say goodbye. His face startled me — his expression was torn, almost pained, and so fiercely beautiful that the ache to hold him flared as strong as before. "I'll see you later," I whispered, biting my lip with anticipation.
He raised his hand, hesitant, conflict raging in his eyes, and then swiftly brushed the length of my cheekbone with his fingertips. His skin was as icy as ever, but the trail his fingers left on my skin was alarmingly warm — like I'd been burned, but didn't feel the pain of it yet.
He placed a gentle kiss to my forehead and strode quickly away from me.
I walked into the gym, lightheaded and wobbly. I drifted to the locker-room, changing in a trancelike state, only vaguely aware that there were other people surrounding me. Reality didn't fully set in until I was handed a racket. It wasn't heavy, but I almost dropped it. I could see a few of the other kids in class eyeing me furtively. Coach Clapp ordered us to pair up into teams.
In all protective sibling fashion, a feat to be admired mercifully, Finn came to rescue me, calling out my name.
"Did you want to play on our team?" he asked, showing me his hand to help me stand up from the bench.
"Thanks, Finn. I'm afraid I should warn you though – gym class is outside my natural range of abilities." I grimaced apologetically.
"Don't worry; I'll keep out of your way." He grinned. Sometimes it was so easy to like Finn.
It didn't go smoothly. I somehow managed to hit myself in the head with my racket and whack Finn's shoulder, hard, on the same swing. I spent the rest of the hour in the back corner of the court, the racket held safely behind my back. Despite being handicapped by me, Finn was pretty good; he won three games out of four singlehandedly. He gave me an unearned high five when the coach finally blew the whistle ending class.
"So," he said as we walked off the court.
"So...?" I repeated.
"You and Hemmings , huh?" he asked, his tone a little warning, as if he was trying to save me from the big bad. I had to admit though, however unnecessary the question, the fact that he cared enough to say something ignited warm feelings inside me. I had never thought that losing Mom would mean I would gain a brother, and while I would never truly get over losing her, I was so grateful to be able to call Finn family.
