Imagination || L.H.

Chapter 12

Tourists dot the sides of the boardwalk, standing out with their outrageous supplies of sunscreen, hats and cameras. 

Luke comes to a stop in front of Oliver's, the best cafe in all of Los Angeles, holding the door open for me. 

From the outside, it looks a little worse for the wear, but the food quickly fixes that problem. They serve everything from fried fish to chicken tenders to pasta to pizza to lobsters. Most anything you can think of, they have. And they've perfected each and every recipe. If I could, I would eat breakfast, lunch and dinner at Oliver's.

I ask the hostess, a girl Michael dated a few years back named Sydney, for a table for two. She nods and winks at us, causing us each to go red, cough uncomfortably and drop our gazes to the floor. 

Sydney leads us to a table by one of the big windows overlooking the water, placing two menus in front of us. 

"Your server will be with you in a few moments," she says politely, returning to her post at the front door.

I skim over the menu even though I know the whole thing by heart, just to have something to do besides look at Luke. A difficult feat to manage since he's sitting directly in front of me. 

I sneak a glance up to find him doing the same thing, meeting eyes with me awkwardly.

 I clear my throat and set the menu down. "Have you found a job for the summer yet?" I ask, hoping to ease the tension the absolutely wonderful Sydney bestowed upon us.

He chews on his lip ring absentmindedly. "No. I'm thinking about applying here, actually."

I perk up considerably. Finally, something I can work with. 

"I think that's a great idea! I'm sure they have digital applications, if you wanted to fill it out that way, or you can wait until we see Oliver again. I'm sure he'd hire you on the spot, he loves you."

Luke lets his menu fall the rest of the way to the table, tilting his head to the side like a puppy seeking approval. "He does?"

"Yeah. Whenever I run into him in The Scoop, or on the pier, he always asks about you. Besides, he's hoping you and the boys will do a gig or two here. Bring in a few more customers for him, give you a little more publicity."

He smiles down at his hands folded on top of the table. "We're taking a break, remember? With everything going on, school, work... It's all too much to spend hours devoted to getting this band thing to be real. But... if he insists... I'll do a few covers, just me. My own version of a summer job."

"That sounds great, Luke," I say with genuine sincerity in my tone.

He glances up at me through his eyelashes, nearly stealing my breath away. Maybe it's the look in his seemingly endless blue eyes, or how beautiful he looks in the midday sun with the pier as a backdrop. Whatever it is, I hate it and love it simultaneously. I didn't know someone could make you feel like this. 

He must notice my reaction because a faint smile curls his lips skyward.

God, I want to kiss him.

The thought startles me and I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding so loudly in my chest that I fear he can hear it. 

"I-I have to go the bathroom," I stammer, hurrying in the general direction of the bathroom. I trip over the leg of a chair on my way, cursing my clumsiness, stumbling to the safe haven the girls' bathroom provides.

Whirling around, I lock myself in one of the stalls, clutching my head between my hands. What's wrong with me?! I know I shouldn't, and yet I want to so badly. After what happened with my last boyfriend... with what Luke's going through now... 

I've only just finally put myself together. I'm not ready to fall apart again. 

And yet, there's something about him that makes me feel like it would be worth it. Would a few days, maybe a few weeks, a few months... 

Would it be worth all the pain and heartache? Would I give up everything I've done for myself for one boy?

*

When I finally manage to drag myself out of the bathroom ten minutes later, embarrassed and confused, Luke's tapping his fingers against the tabletop absentmindedly, staring out over the wide open expanse of water. 

He looks up when I resume my seat, perking up just a bit. I really hope that rushing from the table like that didn't hurt his feelings and his smile chases away a little bit of that concern.

"Sorry I left like that," I say, faking a sense of nonchalance, flipping the menu to the second page just to have something to do with my hands. "Where were we?"

"Talking about summer plans," he replies. "I hope you don't mind that I ordered a drink for you. I tried to pick something you like. You'll have to tell me if I did a good job," he adds with a wink that causes my breath to hitch in my lungs. There really is no explanation for my actions today. I must be getting sick or something. Yeah, that's it.

Swallowing in a way that I hope isn't audible, I nod, reading over the food options without really processing the words. 

Racking my brain for something to say, I blurt out, "Have you written any songs in a while?"

Luke spins his silver ring around his finger, biting his lip. "Yeah, I have. The jury's still out on whether they're good or not."

"I'm sure they're great." 

I'm saved from having to say more when our server returns with two drinks clutched in his hands. He sets a Mountain Dew in front front of Luke and a Coke in front of me. 

I smile at the drink choice, cutting my eyes towards the boy sitting in front of me. A stab of curiosity runs through me. Does he know my favorite drink because we've been friends for so long or because he's been paying attention? And why does the fact that he knows that about me make me feel so warm and fuzzy inside?

"Did I do okay?" Luke asks hesitantly, nodding towards the drink cupped in my hands.

I take a small sip, a smile playing across my face. "Amazing, actually. Coke's my favorite."

He smiles contentedly, ducking his head to take a pull of his own soda. When he straightens, I notice an eyelash stuck to his cheek. I want to reach out and brush it away. 

Dropping my eyes to the table, I start to slowly rip apart the napkin wedged in between the tabletop and the bottom of my glass. It gives me something to do with my hands and distracts me from doing something rash that I will regret. 

What have I gotten myself into?