Paper Hearts

23

We now had one and a half weeks before the wedding, and as you can probably assume, things were absolute chaos. Luke was constantly over at my house, finishing up homework as rapidly as possible so that we could go over plans and continue to drill each other with facts.

Although we were normally at my place, today we decided to spend the day at his (Dad was hosting a business party), and pulled into the driveway directly after school. I craned my neck, looking out the grimy truck window to see a large house, painted powder blue, its large windows illuminated with daylight and lawn full of lush, green grass. It looked like a regular house, like something straight out of a Home and Garden magazine. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine an entire family out in the front—a mother and father watching on as their children raced across the grass, kicking around a soccer ball and laughing. Sure, it sounded cheesy, like something you'd see on a family-friendly sitcom, but it seemed perfect to me—a whole family, all together. Complete.

"You okay?"

Luke's voice jarred me from my thoughts, and I lifted my gaze to his with an involuntary smile.

"Yeah."

So we approached the front porch, and the second he opened the door, I was taken down by a giant, fur-covered cannonball that then proceeded to lick my face.

"Dammit, Marvin, get off of her!" I heard Luke shout, and there was a slight whimper as what I now recognized as a dog was pulled off of me by its collar.

"Sorry," Luke said, breathless as he continued to hold Marvin the Border collie and helped me up with his free hand. "I swear, it's like we never even trained him."

"It's okay," I said, through a laugh. "I like him."

And with that, Luke let go of Marvin's collar, and the dog padded up to me, allowing me to stroke his fur.

"You know, I always wanted a dog," I said, stooping down a bit lower as Marvin began to sniff at my palms, tail wagging.

"But you couldn't, because your mom's allergic," Luke intervened, and I looked up at him, brows knit.

"We haven't been practicing for nothing," he said, with a quirky smile. "Let's go inside."

________

The inside of the Callaway residence was even more perfect then the out. I had to stop myself from commenting on every piece of incredibly-placed furniture, or the softness of the blankets thrown over the couches. By the time we were walking through the kitchen, I was about to burst with excitement.

"What has you all worked up, Hemmings?" Luke asked, shooting me a nervous glance. "Stop staring at everything like that."

"But—" I stammered, an excited laugh escaping my lips, "But the paint—"

"What about the paint?"

"It's yellow."

I definitely knew now that I was blabbering like an idiot, but I could hardly control myself.

"It's so bright, and pretty, and oh my God, I love your house."

At this, Luke burst into laughter.

"You're insane, Victoria, you know that?"

I kept walking through, my eyes scanning every bit of kitchen in sight, nodding vaguely as Luke chuckled to himself, picking an orange from a fruit basket and beginning to peel it.

"Want anything?" He asked me, and I shook my head.

"No, thanks."

There was a pause, in which I directed my attention to a ceramic teapot shaped and painted like a chicken, surrounded by several teacups painted like its baby chicks. I smiled at it, opening my mouth to speak when Luke intervened before I could.