To Fix Yesterday | l.h.

0.6

I groggily walked into the kitchen, making a pot of coffee. I straightened out my Barnes & Noble polo shirt and pulled up my skinny jeans. I tilted my head upside down and knotted my hair into a bun.

There was a knock on the door. I ignored it.

I poured some coffee into a portable mug and added a little bit of creamer. Yawning, I walked over to my front door and slid on a pair of Vans. I shrugged on a sweatshirt and shoved my keys into my pocket, then flicked the light switch.

I swung open the door to see Luke. He had his fist raised, looking as if he were about to knock again. His face became overtaken by a smile. I began walking past him, my shoulder bumping into his, but he curled his fingers around my wrist and pulled me back.

"I have to go to work," I said, glaring at him and crossing my arms over my chest.

"Barnes & Noble is literally across the street, I think you can have a five minute conversation," Luke argued.

I shook my head and began walked away again, heading towards the elevators. I heard Luke sigh, followed by heavy foot steps behind me. Right as I pressed the down button to the elevator, the footsteps stopped and Luke was standing next to me.

"You're broken," Luke whispered. He was talking to me, but it sounded more as if he were trying to convince himself.

"Michael told you?" I asked, my voice also in a whisper.

"He told me that you accidentally said you were broken and then stormed out. Why are you broken?" The elevator doors opened and Luke swiftly stepped through them; I trailed in slowly behind.

"I'm not, I was just, I'm not," I mumbled, tripping over my words. "I'm fine, Luke. Please, leave me alone."

"I will not." He crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his nose up in the air; he resembled a five year old who refused to eat his vegetables.

"Isn't Macy, like, mad at you for hanging out with me?" I asked, stepping out of the elevator after the doors opened. "I mean, she hates me. She was trying to make me jealous yesterday."

"What do you mean? No she wasn't," Luke argued, his eyebrows furrowing. "She doesn't hate you, either."

"Yeah, she was. The way she was all over you? She was trying to make me jealous. And, trust me, she hates me," I said. I pushed open the front doors and immediately pulled my sweat shirt tighter around me when the cold air hit my face.

"No, she doesn't. Macy isn't a hating type of person," Luke explained.

"Luke, Macy's a girl; I'm a girl," I began explaining.

"Yes, and I'm a boy. Your point is?"

"Exactly! You're a boy! I'm going to understand Macy a lot better than you are," I exclaimed.

"But, I've known her longer," Luke countered.

"I'm...Luke," I sighed, annoyed with him and his presence.

"No, I'm Luke," he informed me, pointing to his chest. He then softly laid his pointer finger on the tip of my nose. "You're Skyla."

I scrunched up my nose and swatted his hand away. He laughed at my actions, and I just rolled my eyes before walking across the street. Though I was fast, Luke was still right next to me, for his legs alone were about seven feet long.

"You're ignoring my question," he whispered in my ear as we walked into Barnes & Noble. "Why are you broken?"

"I'm not!" I snapped, glaring up at him. "And, even if I was, it's none of your business."