S T E L L A
"You really don't have to do this."
"Well I did come off a bit aggressive, and I like to think I'm a gentleman, so I definitely have to."
The red leather of the small booth complimented Luke's black leather jacket nicely, as well as making the space between us more intimate than I preferred. He insisted for us to get breakfast before working his car and quiet frankly, it was the last gesture I expected from him. Sitting in the nearly vacant diner at seven in the morning across the man that basically blackmailed me into fixing his car was landing me in uncharted territory. Yet, I could not say that I hated it.
Luke ordered a cup of black coffee and waffles, letting the sound of his ring clad fingers tapping on the ceramic fill the quiet space. Most of my conversations with Luke has only gone south or lead to one of us making a snarky remark. For the first time, I had the feeling that we were going to have a decent interaction away from the awkward, surface level tension we have been riding on for the past week. Maybe a proper talk over breakfast was what we needed to escape that.
"That's all you're eating?" Luke's words brought me out of my thoughts, making me look down at the plate of french toast in front of me.
"Yeah," An airy laugh passes my lips as I reached for my cup of heavily sweetened coffee. "Why?"
"No one eats just french toast." Luke furrowed his brows, raising the white mug to his lips.
"Well you're paying and I'm not much of a breakfast person."
"Who said that I'm paying?"
"You suck."
"You know I'm kidding."
"Well I'm not."
Luke rolled his eyes, causing mine to divert from his smug grin to the warm liquid in my cup. I let the silence collapse over us, bringing my legs up onto the leather seat to get comfortable. Knowing that Luke's eyes were on me, I made it a point to look anywhere but his wandering stare. Something about making eye contact with him made me want to desperately avoid it, as it made the pit of my stomach twist in indescribable ways.
It also does not help that Luke is a sight for sore eyes. The word 'dreamboat' coming out of Gracie's mouth was like a broken record, constantly playing in the back on my mind at all times.
"What got you into fixing cars?"
As much as I wanted to stay focused on my coffee, I looked to Luke as he rested his face in his hands. It was an endearing gaze, his glassy eyes blinking while he waiting for a response.
"A family thing, I suppose." I muttered, discomfort taking over my body as I naturally sat up straight at the question. It was not a topic I cared for, as I found myself incapable of comfort in fixing cars; it was an obligation.
"Who taught you?" Luke asked as he began to cut into his waffles, alleviating some of the visual pressure from me.
"My dad." I talked into my cup.
"That makes sense. How's he doing?"
"He's dead."
Maybe I should not have been so blunt, as I watched Luke nearly choke on a piece of his waffle.
"Fuck, I'm so sorry." Luke put down his fork, pulling all his attention on me. "I had no idea, I haven't talked to Cal about personal stuff in a while."
"It's okay, really." I reply, shaking my head to brush off his pitiful eyes. "It was pretty recent."
Luke nodded, gripping his mug tightly. He looked like he regretted diving into that particular topic, yet I knew he still wanted answers.
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Got No Shame » l.h.
Fanfiction"I love the way you're screaming my name." ... When Luke's car began to have engine failure, it wasn't on his agenda to share the world of street racing with his mechanic's sister. It also wasn't on Stella's agenda to enter it, given the fact that s...
