Off the Record

Ⅳ

Luke and I sit in an uncomfortable silence; he carries an aura around him that eases my trembling thoughts. A few minutes pass before I interrupt the crisp air. "Why would you follow me..." My voice cracks slightly, leaking uncertainty of what I was actually trying to say, "You don't even know me."

I glance in his direction, suddenly meeting his eyes. As soon as they meet, I turn my attention to a streetlight that was flickering a block down the road. Behind the eyes that looked back at me like were like hollow canyons with an uncertainty of its own.

The eyes that gleamed back at me look like ocean waves crashing onto the Seattle Wharf, each hit fizzling back into the endless water; an endless cycle of confusion. 

All I can think about while I'm glancing into this part of Luke, is my body being dragged deep into the ocean current. With each wave my body is pulled further away from oxygenated surface and closer to the bottomless abyss that lies under the water.

I glance back to him nervously, but as soon as I do, I feel as if I couldn't breathe properly. So I just casually look down at my hands folded into my lap.

"Do I really need to know you? We've been in the same group for years. It doesn't matter if we've never talked. I still notice how your hands tremble when someone else talks about how their love one died. Or the way that you chew on your bottom lip when Rob is about to call out a name to speak."

 I let the conversation settle at that for a few minutes, I don't really know how to respond. I didn't think he actually noticed me. I always thought I was a fleeting play-thing to annoy during group.

 I did't even notice that I did those things. I don't make eye contact with him again as I think back to every single group session. Was he always like this? Always this broken? He always came across as so unbelievably sad.

"The question isn't why I followed you; I'm curious to why Holland Barnes is bestowing me the honor of being within her presence." I could almost hear the grin that was plastered onto his face in an attempt to bring the mood to somewhere that's far away from being depressing.

Embarrassment courses through my veins as I feel my cheeks flush pink with warmth. "Kiss my ass, Lucas." Poison steams off my tongue at his previous comment, completely forgetting about what he just told me.

He winks at me and my cheeks flare with heat at his comment, so much so that I almost fell out of the swing due to my loss of balance. The sad, gloomy Luke that I had seen only moments before is now replaced with a laughing figure of it's own; a completely different person.

It suddenly became perfectly clear that him being kind to me was just an outright mask to get into my pants or something. Suddenly, it dawns on me. It's like a cat and a mouse: I'm just his play-thing.

"I so knew you were an asshole!" I yelped as I sat on the ground. All that leaves Luke's lips is a god damn laugh. 

My black top is now covered in bark, as well as my light wash jeans. The ripped holes surrounding my knees were singed with red. I glance down at the bark to see sharp rocks near my legs. My black canvas Tom's were the only thing on me that wasn't unkempt. I winced at the pain, covering the cuts with my hands in order to hide them from Lucas.

"I'm sorry, I was only teasing you. By the look on your face you didn't consider it very funny." His joke didn't go over so well and I believe he knows it too. The eyes that were looking down at me were filled with sincerity.

"How funny!" I mock, still sitting on the compact bark. Luke dropped out of the swing and held a considerate hand out for me to take hold of. My eyes trail from his eyes to his hand as he attempts a reassuring smile.

I refuse his hand, my eyes cutting him with every second that they linger on him. He wants me to accept a gift, a truce, a possible friendship.

 All of the above creates an emotional attachment.

 Emotions aren't what I'm looking for; I don't need companionship, I learned that a long time ago. A cactus doesn't need nourishment, neither do I. I mentally take a slap to my face for actually believing that he has kindness somewhere in his bones. It's one thing being an ass to me, however, it's another to pretend to care.

"Your ass must be extremely jealous of your mouth. My my, so much shit keeps spilling out of it."

 In these last few moments I have spent with Luke, the unrelenting heartache began to dissolve. Instead of increasing my anger, he had solidified my bitter emotions in a box, then proceeded to slam the contents in a corner, out of sight. 

So I do what I do best: be a bitch and hope that he will leave me alone.

I don't know what kind of masochistic asshole would stick around with all of my sass. What can I say? I'm an acquired taste.

And this life isn't a fairytale, it's hell.

I already have a throne waiting down there with my name on it; no sliver of happiness will change my fate. Someone who has hurt so many doesn't deserve happiness, I deserve whatever is coming for me and it'll be one for the books.

After I had reached a half a block down the road, I heard a confused and astonished shout in the distance, "Holland!"

My leg catches each time my foot hits the ground causing my teeth to grit together and curse under my breath.

Life isn't perfect; it needs balance. When something wonderful comes along, something bad happens to equal out the spectrum.

Always.

I can't decide if I can even be happy without something shitty happening. So I never give the universe a chance to drop the other foot.

Yup, life is definitely a complete bitch and I just fell down into the bark. I guess that makes me one too, doesn't it?