and then you left // cth

chapter 8: pearly whites

alexis

I ring the doorbell to Luke's house, rocking back and fourth on my feet anxiously as I wait. The cool night air hits the back of my arms, as if the breeze is trying to comfort me. I'm not used to being able to be outside at night without a jacket. In Seattle, you would freeze. Even in the summer sometimes, which is the current season.

Maybe he forgot I was coming. I think to myself.
Maybe he's not even home.
Maybe he didn't hear me.
Maybe he changed mind.

I ring the doorbell once more, telling myself that if he doesn't answer, I'll just go back home. I hope for this to be the outcome, so that I can once again lock myself in my room and not be bothered by a soul.

I'm just about to turn around and head home when the door flies open, revealing a flustered looking Luke. He's wearing almost the same outfit as yesterday: black skinny jeans and vans that match my own. But he swapped the band tee shirt for a red and black checked flannel.

He bites down on his lip ring and looks me up and down. There is static energy between us. 

His blue eyes flick to mine and I smile at him, hoping it seems genuine.

"Wanna come in?" He asks and steps aside so I can enter the house. I smile at him again as I step over the threshold. Smiling is something that I've noticed a lot of happy people do, so I am trying to incorporate it more into my body language. I don't need any questions arising about my lack of signs of happiness.

"You're sure smiley," he notes as he closes the door. I almost laugh at how opposite his comment is from the truth, and the fact that he noticed. Acting apparently isn't my thing, or maybe it's just happiness isn't. That would explain what is wrong with me.

"I didn't have braces for two years for nothing!" I say instead and flash him my pearly whites. He laughs, but my words were a lie. I've never had braces. It just seemed like the thing to say.

I forgot what it was like to talk to people my own age, especially people I don't know. It's just been my mom and I for months, and before that it was the same guy for two years. I didn't have much of a reason to talk to anyone else, except for the occasional barista and waitress. But even then, Calum would order for me because I'd always get nervous and mess it up.

I like the sound of your laugh, I catch myself thinking, as Lukes eyes light up with laughter. I shake off the thought. I don't know what's going on, maybe it's all the makeup that I packed on in the few minutes before coming here, or the fact that I actually cared enough to pick out an outfit, but I feel different. Normal, almost. A normal teenager watching her friends' band practice on a Friday night at the beginning of the summer.

But normal was a feeling I'd forgotten, and both the word and the concept behind it seemed foreign.

"So, wanna go meet the rest of the band?" He asks me, grinning. I smile and nod. Luke's acting a lot different today. He seems genuinely happy to have my company. Maybe it's because my grandmother isn't hovering over us, with hopes of us starting a family.

Yesterday, although we had our taste in music in common, the conversation we shared seemed forced. We were trying to avoid the inevitable awkward silence, which was the worst kind of silence. I think we both breathed a sigh of relief when had Gram reentered the room.

I follow him down a staircase that leads to a large finished basement. I am shocked by how well decorated it is. There is a large TV and sofa at one end, with every game system imaginable. The center of the room is occupied my a professional-looking drum set and a few different guitars. The best part of the room, by far was the air hockey table, that had one boy on each side. They both had their faces crinkled in concentration.