The Truth About That Summer

sixty-four

Taking a deep breath, I knock on the door to Luke's studio over the garage. The garage door was left open and I wonder if it was left that way on purpose. Trying not to read too much into it, I wait for Luke to answer the door.

"Dylan?" His eyes are wide when the door finally swings open, but he composes himself quickly. "Couldn't turn me down, could you, Pickle?"

"Don't make me change my mind." I warn him, doing my best to stay only somewhat sarcastic.

If what Grams said is true and Luke really is improving my mood, maybe he deserves to see some of that, instead of the cold shoulder I've been giving him for so long. I can at least try, and see if it sticks.

"If you still need some convincing," Luke smirks, closing the door behind us, "I'd be happy to oblige."

My lower belly stirs. Standing in the middle of his room, seeing him there, his thermal shirt with his sleeves pushed up to the elbow, his sweatpants that hang just right around his hips, the messy bedhead framing his strong jaw, I almost take him up on his offer.

Almost.

"That's not why I'm here," I shake my head, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly, wishing it was as easy as sleeping with him and just glossing over everything else.

"Oh," He shrugs casually, sitting on his sofa and patting the spot next to him. "That's a shame, Dyl, because I really would've liked the chance to convince you."

Blush spreads hot across my cheeks. I'm sure I really would've liked it, too. Maybe...

No. I shake my head to myself, wordless as I try to sort out exactly what I want to say.

"So why are you here, if not to make use of my skills?" His hazel-green eyes twinkle deviously and I know how much he's enjoying teasing me. For the first time in awhile, I let him.

"Your skills aside," I roll my eyes, "I wanted to talk to you."

"About?" He murmurs, leaning forward as his arm rests across the top of the sofa, behind my head. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, electricity rushing over my skin at his proximity.

"Well," I stammer, trying to focus. "I am accepting your invitation to the cookout, if you still want me to come, that is."

"I do still want you." His voice is low and the look in his eyes makes my heart erratic. I stumble for words again and he chuckles, knowing exactly what he's doing. "To come, I mean."

I let out a breath only for Luke to take it away again.

"To the cookout," His gaze drops to my mouth, "And for me, but we can get to that later."

I close my eyes, using every last brain cell to remain calm and not tear his clothes off his body.

"Luke,"

"Dylan?" His fingers weave through the ends of my hair, making it even harder to concentrate.

When I open my eyes again, his face is right there, his lips so close that I can almost taste them.

And if I'm being honest with myself, I want to. So badly. But not before I say what I came to say.

I grab his thick wrist and place his hand carefully in his own lap. He tries to hide his grin, eyes widening innocently.