violet skies / michael clifford

when you lie to him

15. make it sound so sweet, jessa

Going in the car with Luke is awkward and quiet. I don't know what to say to him. He doesn't enjoy it either, judging by the way his eyebrows are crinkled into a deep frown. Why did he offer to take me to Ashton's house if he hates me that much?

He's busy starting the GPS on his phone and typing in the address. It's getting dark and I don't really know the directions from here.

"Thanks for taking me there," I say, trying to fill the silence. "You didn't have to."

"It's no problem."

Lie. Clearly, there is some kind of problem. But apparently, we're not going to talk about it. Instead, Luke reaches to turn the music on. The car is old, and so is the music player. It's not the best sound, and I wonder why he won't just play it from his phone instead.

The ominous tension lingering between us is making me feel uncomfortable. It's as if Luke's dislike to me is building with each second - eventually, he'll explode. I should probably be used to unstable guys by now, but I'm really not.

"You like Green Day?" Luke asks, turning the volume up slightly. It's an awful attempt at making the situation less weird. Jesus of Suburbia tunes out any conversation we wouldn't have made anyway.

"Yeah." I lean my head back against the half broken, stained navy car seat.

And then it's quiet for a long time. I don't really know what to say to him. The record keeps playing, and by the time we get to the end of the song, the silence hovers.

"What have I done wrong? You're always looking at me that way," I say, referring to the way he's always frowning whenever he looks at me. It all started in the park. Ever since, his eyes have been cold as ice.

"Look, I know you're fifteen."

He's figured it out. I'm in trouble.

"I'm sixteen next month so technically-"

"Michael doesn't know that. Am I wrong?"

"No, you're not," I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. I know Michael doesn't know about my age. I haven't planned on telling him. "Are you going to tell him?"

"No, I'll give you the chance to do it yourself. You do realise you're gonna have to let him know, right?"

"Eventually," I sigh.

"I'm looking out for Michael. I don't want him to make the same mistake I made."

"What mistake?"

Luke ignores my question. "Have you told Michael your real name yet? It's not Jessa, is it?"

"I don't use that name."

"Your family does."

I feel the tears well up in my eyes. He's pushing me so hard it's bringing me into a panic attack. "Stop interrogating me! How do you know any of this? Are you stalking me?"

"No, but your dad is marrying my auntie. As Michael put interest in you, I had to find out who you are. I wasn't gonna let him run off with a fifteen-year-old."

"Sixteen," I mumble, looking up to make the tears go away. Have I not cried enough for one day already? I feel stupid.

"Fine, whatever."

When I've gathered my thoughts, I understand what he's said. "You're Luke Hemmings."

"I'm meant to be your babysitter for the wedding. Fun, right? Make sure you don't drink or do anything stupid."