Lost - LRH

Chapter 8

~Author's note~

Hey guys, sorry to keep you waiting. I've been having writer's block and I'm just trying to piece this story together. Anyways, here's another chapter, sorry that its short.

P.S. Happy New Year!

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It has been a week since I brought up Calum at the café and I still don't know what was wrong. Luke constantly changed the subject whenever I tried to ask about it, and soon our conversations begin to fall short. We were back at square one again: silence.

It was a shame too, Luke was finally beginning to open up, as was I. We slowly go back to our old routine, walking to each class, him nudging me out of my deep thought when it's time to go, and me copying down his notes during lunch.

Usually I would be okay with this, but now all it did was bring anger to me. What did I say wrong? What is the deal with Calum? Why won't Luke just talk to me about this.

I sit at a table in the library, scribbling down Luke's notes into my own notebook as he walks through the aisles of bookshelves. I finish, putting away both his and my stuff then walking over to him.

"Luke," I breathe out, trying to keep my anger and confusion under control, "You can't ignore me forever."

He stands there, paying no attention to me as he reads the book in his hand.

"Luke" I poke his arm as my annoyance grows, "We hang out every single day. You're bound to tell me sometime."

Still no response.

I take the book from his hand, "Luke!" I yell, earning me a shush from the librarian somewhere in the library.

He finally looks at me, his face expressionless.

"What happened with Calum?" I begin to loosen up, releasing some of my anger.

Luke continues to stare at me.

"Are you going to just stare at me?" I sigh.

Luke shrugs and takes the book from my hand, placing it back into the shelf. He walks past me to the table where I was copying his notes.

He slings his bag over his shoulder and grabs my bag, offering it to me. I glare at him, "No, answer my question."

Luke shrugs again as he places my bag back on the table and heads to the door just as the bell rings.

I huff, taking my bag from the table and following after him to our next period.

-

Luke refuses to talk to me all day and by the time I know it, we're walking into our art class.

I decide to let the question go for now just to focus on this one class. Ms. Hernandez greets the class like any other day and tells us to continue our assignments from last class: our deepest despair.

I take out my sketch book, opening it to the page with the sketch I had drawn last class. I trace my hand over the sickly woman, my mother. A tear forms in my eye but I quickly wipe it away as I take out a pencil.

I drag pencil across the textured paper, darkening each line. My eyes briefly look to Luke who is sat beside me, hunched over his drawing, a familiar sight.

I return to my paper and continue to define each line.

-

The bell rings. Class was finally over.

I tuck away my items into my backpack and look to find Luke already standing, waiting for me. We walk out of the art room and exit the school.

As we walk, I feel the hardened snow under my feet. It hasn't snowed for days and it wasn't warm enough for the snow to turn to slush so it turned to ice, hard, slippery ice.

Each step we take is careful. Luke and I nearly reach the part where our paths separate until he stops and turns to me. I look at him, confused.

"You aren't prejudice," His breath forms a cloud as he speaks, "That's why."

I continue to look at him, still confused.

"That's why I choose to hang out with you," he clarifies.

"Oh," a small cloud forms from my mouth.

Luke raises a brow, "Are you disappointed?"

I shake my head, "No. It's just that- why do you choose to bring this up now?"

He looks out around us, "Well you asked, didn't you?"

"Well yeah but that was a bit over a week ago, why do you answer it now?"

Luke continues to look out, avoiding eye contact with me, "Well better late than never, right?"

I shrug, "Well yeah but-"

"Good," Luke cuts me off, "Glad we settled that," He turns around and walks his way.

I stand with my mouth still slightly open from being cut off mid-sentence. I sigh and walk my own way.

Ugh that boy, always with the last word.