Paper Hearts

11

We idled in my driveway, Luke's headlights illuminating the pavement before me, reflecting off of the dark, empty windows of the house. The car was gone, which meant Dad was at work—which wasn't surprising, seeing as his office often called him in at nighttime, anyways.

So it was just me and Luke, sitting in comfortable silence, until he finally broke it, his voice filling the air between us.

"Thanks for coming."

"No problem," I replied, with a smile. "I actually had a lot of fun."

"Yeah," he said, returning the gesture. "Me, too."

"And I know that everything—you know, about the wedding and everything—it's kind of crazy, so I understand if you don't—"

"Victoria," he said, and I paused, lifting my gaze to his. He took my hand, and I felt the same electricity that I did the other night, at Tanner's party.

Oh, God. Tanner's party. His drunken message. That seemed like so long ago.

But I was torn from my thoughts when I felt Luke's hand tighten around my fingers, and I looked up at him, unsure of what to do or what to say.

"I want to help you with this," he said. "I promise."

"But—"

"Nothing's going to change my mind."

I tried again. "But everything's so—"

"Victoria, I know. I know about all of the potential complications, about the risks, about the fact that the wedding is in Florida and we're here and it's a week long. I know that we hardly know each other and that I've already kissed you and that everything seems to be coming on so fast, and I know that you're scared, but I'm not. You hear me? I'm not scared."

I just stared at him, breathless. Because Luke Callaway had just expressed everything that I'd been trying to say, all in one breath.

And the only thing I could think to say was,

"But I am."

He laughed then, a genuine laugh, and ran his thumb along the ridge of my palm.

"Don't be. Everything's going to be okay."

He had said that several times in the past few days, and I was finding it harder and harder to believe him.

I kept this thought to myself, though, still focused on him and what he was going to say next. It was always a mystery, with Luke. You never knew what might come out of his mouth.

"I'm sorry if I scared you," he said finally. "I—I shouldn't have kissed you, even if it was fake."

It didn't feel fake.

"It's fine," I said. "It really is; I just...I guess I wasn't expecting it."

And then the smirk returned to his face as he cast me a sideways glance.

"That's part of the fun."

"I bet you say that to every girl."

The words were out of my mouth before I even had the change to register them; my hands flew to my face. My eyes widened as he took this in, his brow furrowed.

"Huh." He said finally. "No one has ever been that straightforward with me."

"I'm sorry," I said then, quickly. "I didn't mean to—"

"So that's all I am to you? The bad boy? The notorious one? The legend of Grayson High?"

His voice was dripping with sarcasm, the edges of his words sharp enough to cut.

"No," I protested. "No, that's not what I meant—"

"I'm pretty sure it is." He said, quietly, and then unlocked his car.

"Have a good night, Victoria. I'll see you around."

"Luke," I began, hoping that he would jump in and cut me off. When he didn't, I began to panic.

"I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, or label you, or anything like that. I just—I can't help but think—"

"Can't help but think that I only do girls favors to get my leg over?" he asked, his voice biting, and I faltered.

"No," I said, after a few moments of silence, "It's just—"

"It's just what?"

"This is all going so fast," I said, my voice breathy and catching in my throat. "I mean—just yesterday—you brought me home from school and managed to convince me to go to a party. Tanner's party, even. And then, today, I asked you to do this insane thing—to be my fake boyfriend for a week—and you said yes. And then I went to your banquet-thing to make it up to you, and you kissed me, and now—I just don't know what I'm doing anymore."

This came out very quickly, one sentence tumbling over the other, punctuated by my sharp intakes of breath, tears pricking at my eyes as Luke just sat there, watching me, as if I were a complete and utter mystery to him.

Perhaps I was.

He didn't speak for a long time. After a while, I began to wonder if he was just waiting for me to leave.

When I began to open my door, however, his voice sounded.

"I'm sorry." He said finally, his voice flat and tired. "I was being stupid; I shouldn't have done anything. I was just trying to prove myself, I guess. I was trying to prove that I can be a good guy, instead of...instead of the person everyone thinks I am."

My hand stilled around the handle, and I looked up at him. He didn't quite meet my eye.

"I don't do that kind of thing anymore, Victoria. I'd like to say that I've changed. But if you're not comfortable with this—with me—then I get it. I understand why you wouldn't be, or why things are going so fast. I can slow down, or I can remove myself from the situation—whatever you want. I didn't mean to be impulsive, but hey, apparently that's all I am to people nowadays."

It was then when I first realized how complicated Luke Callaway was. He was such a multi-faceted human being, with all of these different layers and motivations hidden inside him, simply cogs in a well-oiled machine. One second he was suave and carefree, the next he was honest and vulnerable. He was an enigma, a complete puzzle, something that even I could not see through—not then, not now.

But he intrigued me. There was something inside of me that desperately wanted to decide for myself who this boy was to me, and if I trusted him, and if the speed of this route was going to get us anywhere. Because, despite every bit of logic in my being, I wanted to go through with this plan. I really did.

"Monday," I said finally, surprised that the voice emerging from my mouth sounded strong and confident. "Find me after school. You know where the theatre room is?"

At this, Luke nodded uncertainly.

"No one's used that place in years." He said, his tone skeptical. "Are you sure—?"

"Yes," I cut him off with a brisk nod. "Meet me there. Four o' clock sharp. Got it?"

"Yeah." He said then, his eyes clouded with confusion. "But—"

"Nope," I replied quickly, popping the "p" at the end. "No more questions."

With that, I allowed myself out, smiling at him from outside the truck.

"Thanks for the ice cream. I'll pay you back on Monday."

"You don't have to pa—"

"See you around, Callaway."

And then I turned on my heel, allowing the headlights to light the way to my front door, pulling it open and then shutting it behind me without looking back.

It was a full ten minutes until I heard the engine rev up and Luke headed home.