english ✱ muke

九

"well, may i just say. speaking to you has been much easier," luke jokes, squeezing my hand.

"i wonder why," i reply sarcastically.

"i'm just wondering how we got through that first date without you blowing your cover completely." luke looks at me curiously, his lips pouted adorably.

"you know my friend trang? you met her the day you came up to us and asked us about the clean up thing. she was directing me through an earpiece," i admit, blushing.

"all the effort. you could've just told me you were joking about the whole chinese thing that day; i wouldn't have been as mad." luke chuckles.

"yeah, well." i trail off the end of my sentence. i'm not sure what to say. i pull a classic clifford move and take a long ass sip of tea to give me more time to think. "i just didn't want to ruin our relationship before it started."

"well i'm glad i know now. imagine if we got married one day and i was still under the impression that you only spoke chinese." luke jokes.

"i don't think i could pull off the act for that long. believe me, the few interactions we had were painful." i shift on the wooden chair uneasily.

"painful huh?" luke repeats, looking down at his coffee.

"i didn't mean it like that. painful as in hard, i couldn't say anything other than yes and i didn't want to blow my cover." i huff, explaining myself.

"hmm, i see. i'm still offended though," luke says. the teasing little smirk on his face implies that he's joking and doesn't actually mind.

"are you now?" i smile, going along with his little game.

"yup. i'm 'triggered' as some youths would say," luke continues.

i'm caught off guard for a moment. "since when did youths say that?"

"i run a junior hockey program from kids aged nine to thirteen. the amount of times the words 'triggered' and 'dap' come up is shocking." luke says, sounding appalled. "i don't even know what it means!"

"luke. honey. i believe you're talking about the dab?" i giggle. watching luke get worked up over such little things make my heart beat a little faster.

"i don't even know anymore! all i know is that they'll do this 'sniff-your-armpit' motion whenever someone shoots a goal!" luke throws his arms in the air, sounding positively distressed.

"you're only in your early twenties luke. you sound like a grandpa right now," i snort.

"a grandpa?" luke asks, sounding miffed.

"don't tell me you need hearing aids now, grandpa." i smirk, propping my elbows to the table.

"i am not a grandpa!" luke exclaims.

"your pot belly tells me otherwise," i laugh.

"pot belly? michael, i have a fucking six pac for your information!" luke shoots back.

"won't believe it till i see it," i poke his hand playfully.

"if that's what you really wish," luke shrugs, standing up and throwing his light jacket on.

"huh?" i ask, watching him get ready to leave.

luke doesn't reply. instead, he throws a twenty dollar bill onto the table to cover the drinks and snacks we got. i unsurely put my jacket on and follow luke as he exits the little cafe. he sneaks an arm around my waist and guides me to his car.

"where are we going?" i ask, watching luke unlock his car.

"to my place?" luke answers shortly.

"why?" i wonder.

"didn't you want proof about my abs?"