leaked (l.h.)

16

That's how Luke and I spent the summer.

Side by side, him sitting close by as I try to figure myself out. After the shock of it all passed, after the get well soon cards and letters from relatives I've never met before, it was up to me to start healing. For the most part, I'm better than I was three weeks ago. My therapist says so, anyway.

My Mom has gone back to work, and Luke has taken the unofficial job of making sure that I don't succumb to the darkness I narrowly escaped in May. He is here almost as often as I am. Perhaps he is here more often. But I don't think he minds spending most of his time with me. And I don't mind his presence, either.

"I made you something," I walk over to where he sits on my couch, a guitar he had brought over propped up on his lap. He looks up from the strings, those bright blue eyes softening when they meet mine. But when he looks down at the cupcake in my hand I see how pure his love is. Although he's never explicitly said it. I know that we are soon going to be much more than friends. "Your real birthday cake is in the oven. I just had leftover batter and I wanted you to taste it before everyone else did. Just in case it was the worst."

I hand him the cupcake, white cake batter I had based off of a recipe I had found on Pinterest and dark blue colored icing - his favorite. And as he peels the golden wrapper off, I sit on the back of his seat.

"It's adorable," he smiles up at me, taking a tiny bite of the cake. I watch how the blue icing sticks to his upper nose, how he wipes it off with his index finger only to bring it back between his pink lips. And as he smiles as he chews, I see that I've mastered yet another recipe. Besides theatre, that was how I decided to pass the time. Cooking for Luke.

"Rate it out of ten." I ask, smiling down at the beautiful boy in front of me.

"Ten."

"Luke!" I laugh, giggling softly as I reach down to run my hands through his golden hair. I've come to learn that he likes being touched. At least by me. "You can't tell me that everything I make is a ten! That'll only inflate my ego."

"I'm not lying," he smiles up at me, his sincere eyes only showing me how truthful he is. I was right when I said that Tyler and Luke are completely different people; Luke is soft and kind, not pressuring or condescending. It is easy to talk to Luke, whereas Tyler was rough and violent. His love was based on ultimatums, and I fell victim to his manipulation. "I don't think you could ever make something I wouldn't like."

"You're too sweet," I smile at him, moving myself up off of the couch and back to my feet. "It's almost done, and once the cake is done I'll get started on that pasta you like so much."

I walk into the kitchen, to the sink that is just about clean. The kitchen is spotless, almost ready for the birthday dinner I am making him tonight. His birthday is tomorrow, but tonight just for us. I know he'd probably want to spend his eighteenth with his family.

"I find myself missing your cooking when I am not here," Luke says as he sits on the island in the kitchen, the guitar on his lap as he swings his feet out underneath him. "All we have at home is fast food."

"Ha," I smile, wiping my wet hands on a dishtowel as I lean on the counter across from him. "I'll bring you home some leftovers when I have them."

"Grace," he scoffs, looking down at me as he thoughtlessly strums his fingertips across the strings. "What would I do without you?"

"Eat fast food, I guess," I wink up at him, biting my lip as I rock on my feet. This only makes him smile even brighter than he had before, and as I turn around to check the cake I hear his lovely melody meet my ears.

"It only takes a taste," he sings, his voice quiet yet enough to send butterflies to my stomach. "When it's something special. It only takes a taste when you know it's good."