Running From the Truth- Luke Hemmings

Get Your Dick Back Into Your Pants

I don't know what to say to Luke. I know he's expecting anger, and part of me still wants to give him just that, but I feel like I can't. I can't make up my mind. It's been silent for a long while now, so I sit back on the bed and lay down, looking up at the ceiling and trying to clear my head, to think of anything else but sparkling blue ocean eyes and rosy pink petal lips. It isn't working. 

Luke lays down next to me. I turn over to face away from him, but he's persistent. "Carrie, I need to know how you feel about all of this. I need to know if you even want to stay here. Sometimes I think even if the cops and Ricky's guys get to you, it's better than having to be stuck hiding with me. I don't want you to be unhappy and I just want you to be safe."

"Why?" My voice feels feeble, tiny, like barely any breath has passed my lips in speaking.

"Because I don't want to hurt anyone else-"

"No, that's not what I'm asking," I cut him off, "I mean why me? Why do you care so much about me? Ever since we got in that car you've been nicer to me than any of the other guys- nicer than you ever would have had to be. Why? What's so special about me?"

"I..." Luke trails off. He never finishes the sentence. Breathing deeply, in, out, in, out, and rolling over close to me. He puts his left arm over my shoulder, snaking it around me to hold me close to him. His warm breath washes over the back of my neck like the ocean tides overtaking sandy shores. I can smell last night's cologne all over him and the morning on his breath. I will myself not to melt back into him, to feel his warmth on me, but I don't know if I'm strong enough. It's not even a romantic or sexual gesture, just a show of compassion and, in a way, apology. Before either of us can say anything, I hear a loud noise, the bang of a door knob against a wall from being opened too forcefully, immediately followed by Calum's deep, raspy voice. He says, "Hey, I didn't know if you two were up yet, but-" And then he stops. We've obviously been seen.

"Oh, uh... I just, um.."

I shoot up immediately, backing away from Luke, but he doesn't seem as startled as I am. He sits up, calmly, almost sleepily, and says, "Oh, crap. Sorry. Um, what, Cal? What do you need?" Why is he so nonchalant about this? Does this happen to Luke a lot? Calum doesn't even seem that surprised once the initial shock has worn off.

Cal says, "I just wanted to know if you guys wanted breakfast. You hadn't left the room and it was getting kind of late and we wanted to know if you got kidnapped or died in your sleep or literally anything that is less awkward than this. I'll just... leave you two then. Hannah is gonna be here in like an hour though, so get your dick back in your pants before she sees you two and you get crucified."

Luke laughs a little bit as we begin to get up when Calum leaves, but my face stays straight. I had forgotten about Hannah. She really will fuck him up pretty bad if she finds out. She's the archetypal protective older sister so she's not even a fan of my friends to begin with, but seeing this, even if this turns out not to mean anything, combined with the fact that he's older, would probably put her over the edge.

We're now standing on opposite sides of the bed just looking at each other. I don't know what I'm meant to do or where I'm meant to go. Should I suggest going out into the kitchen to get breakfast? Something tells me that if I do that this conversation will never happen again and we'll spend the rest of however long we know each other at a distance, each not sure of what the other thinks. A tiny spot right under my diaphragm wishes I'll dart out the window right now and never come back. But I stay still, bolted to the ground like the furniture in that episode of Scooby Doo where they meet Batman and Robin.

Once the room has returned to its gently murmuring morning quiet, Luke looks at me again. His ocean eyes seem to pull me in closer and closer to him, like he's begging me for something; to say something, to do something, to break the tension I've formed between us. 

"Carrie..." he says, eyes still pleading. 

Before he can continue, I make a decision. "Okay, so here's the deal. I'm staying with you guys because I don't wanna get my ass fucking murdered or arrested anytime soon, and I believe you. Okay? I believe you." I say the last part like I'm trying to calm someone down after a manic episode or lure them away from the edge of a cliff. My words are steady and heavy and the calmest thing I've said all morning. They even make me feel a little more assured. "I'll give you a chance to show me that you really don't want to hurt anyone else, if it means that much to you."

Luke melts like a Hershey's bar left in a back pocket on a hot day. He disintegrates. He falls apart into a million pieces and puts himself back together again right in front of me. The oceans in his eyes seem to turn bluer, and the pleading look is replaced by a sort of sad smile. He is silent for a long time. It feels like years. I watch the dust settle in the air through beams of buttery sunlight. It falls like water droplets off of the slender fingers of the sun as she stretches her arms out into the day. We wait. It is silent, and we wait. I'm waiting for him to say something, anything.   Like 'No, Carrie, not good enough. I need you to believe me now,' or 'Thank you so, so much!' through broken sobs and run to plead at my knees for approval. I wait for him to take me up into his arms and kiss me like none of this ever happened and profess his undying love to me. Part of me is waiting for him to just walk away. 

Finally, after a hundred years of longing looks and doubt, he breathes deeply, in, out. He looks at me, really looks at me, like he's the Buddha and he's gonna tell me how to reach Nirvana. "Thank you. I promise you won't regret it."

 He glides around the bed until he's so close to me that I can feel the heat radiating from his face onto mine. I look up, tilting my head back so I can see him because otherwise his chin would be resting on my forehead. He gives the tippy top of my head a tiny kiss, whispers, "Thank you," again into my hair, and then he's gone. Out the door and into the world outside of this bedroom, which I was beginning to think had fallen away completely.