lost and found; lrh

seven

Lately my days seem to tie into one, and time is going in warp speed. School is a drag, and the constant talking about me hasn't died down in the least bit. Every morning I get to endure awkward table talk for breakfast with Luke and his family, then do it all over again that night for dinner. The tension is evident, and I don't know how Liz and Andrew just brush it off. I want to just hug him and say I'm sorry, even though I didn't do anything wrong. I miss him, and it keeps getting harder to handle this whole 'not talking' thing. 

Nevertheless, today is my date night with Michael. So I'm going to attempt to turn off my mind and focus on having a good time for once. I deserve it. That's all I have to keep telling myself. 

Since about five o'clock this evening I've been confined to my room prepping myself for tonight. I know Michael and I are just friends, but regardless I want to look decent. 

I positioned myself in front of my full-length mirror in the far left corner of my room, examining myself. I pulled a cardigan over my bare shoulders, and brought the sleeves down over my arms. My dress was tight against the frame of my body, but wasn't too dressy for dinner and a movie. It was a soft orange dress that went right above my knees, and the white cable-knit cardigan dressed it down. 

I had just finished putting a pair of earrings my dad made for me when I was 12 through the holes in my lobes when a knock came at my door. 

"Come in!" I called, running my hand through my hair to get it out of my face. The door slowly opened, and Luke followed it. He looked me up and down--not in a suggestive way--and when he met my eyes again, gave me a faint smile. 

"Wow." he huffed, looking me over again.

I furrowed my eyebrows, looking down at myself. "What? Do I look bad?" 

He stepped further inside, closing the door behind him. "No. The complete opposite actually." He trailed off, stepping closer to me. "You look stunning." 

I looked down at my feet, feeling my cheeks get warmer as his body came closer to mine. "Thank you." I smiled. 

"Michael better be good tonight. I may have to beat his ass." 

I giggled, making eye contact with him again. "We're just friends, Luke. He's not gonna try anything." I assured him.

"I don't know, Bay. You're all he's been talking about lately." He stepped closer. 

"I doubt that." 

He shook his head. "It's true. He seems to be really into you." He stepped closer, making his tall figure seem like a sky scraper to my own. 

My breath hitched in my throat. "And how does that make you feel?" 

He took the last step to me, taking away the space between us. "Kind of pissed, actually." He brought his hand up to my face, rubbing his thumb against my cheek bone. 

I looked up at him trying to make eye contact, but his eyes were fixated on my lips. He slowly inched his face closer to mine, making my heart beat so fast it hurt. I closed my eyes, just as his lips brushed my top lip. 

"Bailey!" Liz called, her voice distant but alarming. Luke stopped dead in his tracks. "Michael's here!" 

I looked up at Luke, his eyes closed as our chests rose and fell at a quickened pace. "I uh.. I should probably go." I whispered, swallowing the lump in my throat. 

He opened his eyes, the flush of their baby blue irises instantly making me weak. I pulled myself out of his grasp, grabbing my bag off of my bed before exiting the room, leaving Luke standing alone in the spot where everything I've always wanted almost came alive. 

My mind was attempting to process the whole moment with every step down to the boy waiting patiently at my door. His eyes met mine just as he came into view, and he smiled. Guilt. 

"Hey Michael," I trailed off, pushing off the last step onto the leveled floor. 

He drew in a breath. "You look beautiful, Bee." 

I faintly smiled, bringing my mind back to Luke. "Thank you, Luk--Michael. Michael.." I recovered. "Sorry... I'm a little nervous." Liar. 

He smirked. "It's okay. There's nothing to be nervous about." He held out his arm, which I wrapped my own around. "You ready?" 

I shook my head. "Have fun guys." Both Michael and I turned around to put the voice to a face. Luke was leaning against the railing of the stairs. His eyes lingering on me before turning to Michael.

 "We will." Michael promised. "Thanks, mate. I'll see you later?" Michael turned around, bringing me with him. 

I kept my eyes on Luke as he mumbled a, "see you later" mockingly under his breath. Guilt. 

Michael and I were seated in the back of the darkened theatre room as some movie played across the screen. I channeled all of my energy into forcing myself to pay attention to the movie instead of continuously playing what happened with Luke over and over in my head. I felt Michael's fingers brush against my hand before he intertwined them. Shit. 

"Hey Bee.." Michael whispered, bringing my attention to him. His stare went from my eyes to my lips as he inched closer to me. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. 

He placed his hand behind my neck, bringng my face closer to his. I closed my eyes, knowing there was no way around what was about to happen. I felt his lips brush my top lip, just as Luke had done prior to this, before they fully connected into a proper kiss. 

The kiss was soft and lovely, and at any other time would've been completely apporopriate. I didn't find it quite fair to him though, because as our lips moved together in sync, all I could picture was Luke. At this exact moment, the only person's lips I wanted against mine were Luke's. 

He licked my bottom lip, asking for entrance, which I allowed. The only thing getting me through this was the image of me opening my eyes to Luke's face against mine. But when our lips finally departed, and I opened my eyes, it wasn't Luke who I saw. 

"I really like you, Bee." Michael whispered, pecking my lips once more before settling back into his seat.  He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. 

But I like Luke... But I love Luke. 

My eyes were glued to my ceiling as every event from earlier played through my mind. Starting with the almost-kiss with Luke, and ending with the multiple make-out sessions with Michael. 

Every emotion from despair to passion fumigated my body, bringing me into a sentimental coma. I broke down, giving into emotion. I burried my head into my pillow, letting out a cry I wasn't ready to let go of. 

There you go again, digging a hole into the feelings of pretentious teenage boys. Good luck getting out of this one. 

I whimpered into my pillow, letting the pain of literal emotions overwhelm me. I need my dad. He always helped me get through things like this and made it so much more bearable. Now I'm stuck in this alone. 

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