Paper Hearts

08

The confusion that flashed in his gaze was answer enough.

No, Luke Callaway did not need a tutor. Yes, I was a complete idiot.

He was about to open his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

"Sorry. That—that was uncalled for. Um..."

My voice trailed off, and I felt my cheeks flush in embarrassment. I shook out my hands, clearing my throat.

"The thing is," I said, my breathing coming out in sharp, quick intervals, "My mom—I haven't seen her in a while, you know, and—well—"

Luke just stood there as I floundered for words, his brow arched questioningly, and I knew that I must have looked like a complete idiot.

"She's getting married," I finally managed to say, pinching my eyes shut tight. "She's getting married, and I—I might have accidentally told her—"

Stop talking, I ordered myself. Stop talking, turn around, and leave.

But I didn't. Somehow, some way, I managed to make an even bigger fool of myself than I already had.

"I accidentally told her that I have a boyfriend," I said then, the words sudden, rapid fire. And the second they were out, more came tumbling after; it was like I couldn't stop myself. "And I don't, and now I need a date for her wedding, and it's only four weeks away, and—"

"Victoria."

I brought my eyes up to his, my hands shaking by my sides, my breathing coming out in shallow gulps.

He just looked at me—not angry, not confused. Just looking.

Which was even worse.

"Well, if you're going to say something, you might as well say it now," I muttered, my cheeks now radiating heat.

And he did.

"What does that have anything to do with needing a tutor?"

Boys.

I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath, feeling worse than ever.

"No," I said, my voice coming out exasperated and flat. "No, I'm sorry, I—I should—"

Shaking my head and blinking back sudden tears, I turned towards the exit, desperate to leave, my fingers reaching towards the door when his voice interrupted the still air between us.

"Wait," he said, his tone soft, and I silently cursed myself for allowing this much time to pass. "Stay."

"No," I found myself saying, then, without looking at him. "No, I barely know you; it doesn't matter, and I—"

"Victoria." He said again, and I wanted to scream at him, to throw something, but I couldn't. So I just stood there, facing the door, standing stock-still.

"What?" I said finally, my voice sharp and on-edge.

"Please tell me what's going on."

Slowly, I turned on my heel, forcing back the tears and taking a deep breath through my nose, gathering the courage to look him in the eyes—steel-blue meeting brown and holding each other there.

"I need a date," I said, slowly, "And—and I was going to ask you, but—"

"But what?" he asked, moving out from behind the counter once more and standing before me. I averted my gaze, feeling the shame flood back into me as he tried to meet my eye.

"But nothing." I replied. "Just—forget about it. Forget it ever happened."

"No." he said. "No, I'm not going to. Turn around."