Bubble Wrap

chapter two

A GROAN OF frustration falls from my lips as I move away from my door, the little light that fills the hall coming from my phone as I text Maggie again. I'm about to call her when it dies in my hand, leaving me in an even worse state of panic. The thought of having to walk all the way back to Maggie and Zane's this late filling me with dread.

"Lose your keys, 4A?" Luke asks.

"No, I didn't lose them," I tell him, rolling my eyes. "I just forgot them."

"Forgot them." He nods as my eyes adjust to the darkness, allowing me to see the smile creeping onto his lips. "Right," he says, the sarcasm dripping off the word. "Well, 4A, I don't do this often, but you are more than welcome to hold up in mine until the power kicks back in."

As he steps back, holding the door open wider, I look around the dark room and groan. "I'd rather die than spend a night with you, Luke," I say with a tight smile and move toward the stairwell wrapping around the elevator, ready to hunt down the building super.

"Booker's not here," Luke calls out after me. "Had a family thing tonight."

I stop in my tracks and look over my shoulder, Luke leaning into his doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. "Seriously?"

"Yup, so stop being dramatic and get in here," he says.

"I'm not being dramatic."

He hums as he steps out of the way, widening the door to usher me inside. "You're being a little dramatic," he tells me. "I promise I don't bite."

"I don't believe that for a second," I say as I tentatively step into his apartment, holding my coat around my frame a little tighter as he shuts the door behind us. "Can I borrow your phone?" I ask.

"Yeah, here," he says, offering me his phone after unlocking it. "Make yourself at home. I'm going to go find something to give us a little light."

"Thanks," I say, my fingertips brushing his as I take the phone and then take a step back as he goes into the small hall separating the living room from the bedroom. His phone is light in my hand as I dial Maggie's number, thankful that the one number I remember is hers. "Come on," I mumble quietly to myself. "Pick up, Mags. Pick up."

"That desperate to get away from me?" Luke asks as he steps back into the living room, flicking on a lantern that he sets on the coffee table as the phone continues to ring.

"Yes," I say, deciding not to sugarcoat my distaste for him. It's not that I've even spend that much time with him, because I haven't, but he still finds ways to get under my skin every time he sees me. Either by calling me by my apartment number or teasing my clothes. It's always something with him and the less time I have to be with him—the better.

When the phone finally stops ringing, hope lifts in my chest that Maggie has picked up only for her automated message to play, asking me to leave a message. Letting out a groan, I run my fingers through my hair and end the call before extending the phone out to Luke.

"Guess you're stuck with me."

"Don't look so pleased about it," I say and sigh as I set my bag on the arm chair perpendicular to the couch before slipping out of my coat and resting it over the armrest.

He shakes his head at me as he settles on the couch cushions, pulling his guitar onto his lap. "Are you planning to stand there the whole night or are you going to get comfortable?"

"We're not having sex."

His eyes move to my face as a laugh falls from his lips. "What makes you think I want to have sex with you?"

"I don't know, Luke," I say as I step out of my heels. "Maybe the long parade of woman you have going through here every week. I thought that was all you knew how to do."

Instead of denying my claims, he simply shrugs his shoulders unbothered. And it annoys me more than it should. I shouldn't be bothered the way I am by him, but I am. He's gotten under my skin since the day I moved in, and he hasn't shifted since. He's permanently residing there and I think he knows that.

"4A, you're going to be here a while," he says, looking up from the neck of his guitar. "You may as well get comfortable."

A sign falls from my lips as I slip out of my blazer and reach in my bag to pull out the manuscript pages I brought home, the thick stack of pages stiff in my grip as I sink onto the floor next to the coffee table. The carpet rough to the touch, but softens the hardwood floors as I unclip the pages and smooth my fingertips over the words, prepared to dive back into a world away from here. Far, far away.

"What are you doing?"

"Reading," I say and straighten my posture as I tuck my legs under his coffee table.

"Of course you are," he says, moving his feet onto the coffee table where my pages are laid out. I roll my eyes and push on his ankle, forcing him to move them.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means it's boring," he says, not even bothering to look at me as the next words fall from his lips. "Kind of like you."

A sour laugh falls from my lips as I lean back into the chair. "Of course you'd think that," I say. "Because using your brain is boring."

"Are you implying I don't use my brain?"

I remain silent as my eyes move toward the page laid out in front of me, searching for my starting point. I don't know why, but hearing him say he thinks I'm boring hurts. I know it's not the truth, and he's just trying to stir the pot, but it stings.

The quiet lull of his guitar fills the space as I reach for the lantern, moving it closer to give me better light as I dive back into the pages. Ready to lose myself in another world again.

My world completely shuts down without him in it. The air around me suddenly hard to breathe. And all I want is for us to be more than this. For us not to be the thing destroying each other because on the bitter days, when the day just doesn't feel right, I know it's him. I want to hold him and for it not to hurt. He is the venom in my blood.

And somehow, also the antidote.

To my broken heart. To the days filled with fog. He's all I want.

I need him to be what I need, but he's not. He's troublesome—damaging. And my lungs fill with water as I stare at him. Crying out for him in the numbing silence, knowing I can never have him again.

Not if I want to survive.

"Aren't books supposed to be... I don't know," Luke says, knocking me out of my fantasy. "Bound?"

I roll my eyes as I life my head. "It's a manuscript."

"You do this for a living?" he asks.

"Really?" I ask and lean back, feeling like I might lose my head if I have to deal with him for a second longer. "I told you this when I first moved into the building. I'm a senior editor at a publishing house."

"As if you remember what I do."

"You're the lead singer of a band and bar tend on the side," I say, not bothering to look up as I try to fall back into the story.

"You remembered."

"Yeah, well, I listen when people tell me things," I say and shift my eyes up to find a smile on his face. "Unlike you who, after not even five minutes of knowing me, started flirting."

This makes a grin turn up on his lips, showing off his bright teeth. "You know, 4A, I think you might like me."

"What gave you that impression?" I ask, tucking a piece of my blonde hair behind my ear. And I wish I could be anywhere else right now.

"Because you remembered all that," he says. "If you didn't care, at least a little. You wouldn't have."

The thought that there may be a small ounce of truth in what he says makes me want to laugh as I shake my head at him. No way could I possibly like even a second of my time spent with Luke. He's too full of himself for his own good, and it's then that I realize this is going to be a very long night if Maggie doesn't get here soon.