Damage

Chapter 8

The car ride is mostly silent, the only audible sound coming from the windshield wiper and the low murmur of the radio. It’s still raining, the harsh pitter-patter beating down on the car as Luke drives down the city streets.

This is probably one of the most expensive cars I’ve ever been inside. Even though I’m not drinking or eating anything, I’m terrified that I’ll ruin the Italian leather seats or do something awful. Luke doesn’t seem like a very forgiving person.

But then again, I don’t really know him.

“Do you want something to eat? I feel like it’s the least I can do.” I offer, counting the small amount of dollars in my wallet. We’ve passed by nearly a million coffee shops and I should repay him and Calum, or at least him, for his generosity.

He scoffs, looking down at me as I count the quarters in my hands. “No, I’m fine.” I suddenly feel heat creeping up my cheeks, mortified. I barely have enough money for a muffin for myself and the son of one of the richest men in America can tell.

But slowly, that embarrassment turns into anger and I find myself opening my mouth before my brain can catch up. “I know that I don’t have a lot of money, but you don’t have to be so rude.” We pull up to a stoplight and Luke looks over at me in surprise, silently drumming his hands on the steering wheel.

Suddenly, the large and luxurious interior of this car is too cramped and too hot and I immediately regret what I just said. Luke pulls his lip ring between his teeth momentarily, before turning his head back to the road and lightly shaking his head.

“No one’s ever said something like that to me before.”

And now it’s my turn to be silent. I can’t tell what he’s thinking and it makes me nervous. Should I apologize? Should I stand by what I said? My hazy brain seems only able to hold approximately three vocabulary words and I have no idea what to do or say.

“Look,” He says, interrupting my train of thought and turning the corner. “I didn’t mean it that way. And I’m s- I just. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.” There it is again, that accent that I can’t put my finger on.

We spend the next minute in silence, neither of us sure what to say. Looking over at him, he has the type of face that’s difficult to forget. Strong jaw, high cheekbones, a metal lip ring that curves over his full lips, and eyes a shade of blue that I’d never seen before.

He stares rigidly ahead, his jaw set and his eyes filled with something that reminds me of my father, as strange as it sounds. Something I can’t really put my finger on. Stoicism, maybe? Dark and lonely, but constantly hiding it, not showing it.

I turn away, feeling uneasy, like I’d found something I shouldn’t have.

“Where are you from?” I ask timidly, trying to break the ice, perhaps, and surprised by my own actions.

He keeps his eyes on the road, his brows furrowed like he’s not sure how to respond.

 “New York.”

I bite my lip, unsure if I should press further.

“But, your accent, how did you-“ I begin.

“I went to boarding school in Australia,” he explains, curtly, cutting the conversation short. But I desperately want it to go longer, anything is better than the uncomfortable silence.

“Did you throw the party?”

“Yes.” He responds, taking a deep breath and taking another right.

“Thank you for letting me stay in your room, by the way.” He doesn’t say anything, just nods his head and raises his brows in assent.

“I noticed that you had The Sun Also Rises on your nightstand. I didn’t know you liked Hemingway.” His jaw tightens and the speed of the car accelerates slightly.

“And I looked at your bookshelves and I was really surprised by some of the books and poetry that you have,” I start, testing the waters. “Do you read a lot of beat poetry? Who are your favorite writers?”

“Do you always ask so many damn questions?” he snaps, his voice husky and angry. The car suddenly comes to a halt at a stoplight. 

I’m stunned and have no idea what to say. And I have no idea what to say for the rest of the drive, remaining silent as he drives south down 116th Street and parks the car, shutting off the engine.

“Thank you,” I mutter, resting my hand on the door handle.

He nods and I get out the car, grabbing my bag and my phone.

I shift back and forth on the wet sidewalk a few yards from the main gate, not sure what to do. I take a deep breath, about to apologize but I’m quickly cut short.

He rests his hand on the steering wheel, his eyes cold and filled with what looks like contained fury. “Just do me a favor, and never look through my things again.”

Then he shuts the door and starts the car, driving off down the street.

 ***

updates are every other day at 5 PM EST, so the next update will be sunday!

tumblr - iwriteabout5sos.tumblr.com