Running From the Truth- Luke Hemmings

A Pretty Girl's Name

Luke finishes dressing the cut on my side by adding the past piece of tape to the sterile gauze covering it. He says, "Don't pull your shirt down yet; it's all gross and bloody and you don't wanna get that all over your clean wound. I'll go see if Calum has anything for you."

I nod and Luke walks out, leaving me alone in the laundry room of a boy I barely know, waiting for another boy I barely know to bring me a shirt to cover up a stab wound. My headache is pounding so intensely now that the cut on my side barely registers as there, as long as I don't touch it or move so much. In fact, the pain all over from tonight's endeavors in combination with exhaustion is starting to make me a bit woozy. I close my eyes for a bit, letting the cool metallic whirring of the washing machine sing me into a quick cat nap, only to be awoken by Luke's equally weary yet slightly amused figure standing over me with some folded up clothes in his arms. 

"Hey sleepyhead, I got you some clothes. They're probably gonna be way too big for you, but they'll have to do for now."

I rub my eyes. "Hell yeah they'll do, all I want now is to sleep for at least thirteen hours, and no ill-fitting clothing can prevent me from that."

I sit up and hop down from the washing machine, getting slightly dizzy from the sudden change in altitude and propping myself up on the wall for a minute. "Where should I change?" I ask, "Where am I gonna sleep?"

"Oh, uh, bathroom's just off the kitchen to the left. Calum's got an extra bedroom where I usually sleep when I crash here, which is pretty often to be honest, but you can have the bed. There's a couch in there too since it sort of doubles as a game room of sorts, so I can sleep on that if it's okay with you."

"Okay, cool. I'll go get changed and freshen up then."

Calum's bathroom smells clean and fresh, like soap and lemons and mint-lavender goodness. After changing and using the toilet (because oh my god how did I not realize until now that I have to pee so badly) I wash the sweat and yuck off of my face and amble out into the rest of the house to look for the extra bedroom. It's not that hard to find, just off of the living room, and I walk in to see Luke asleep face down on the edge of the bed on top of all of the covers. Great. I set down my dirty clothes, neatly folded, on the arm of a chair next to the bedside table and see that there is a phone charger already plugged in beneath the lamp. I plug my phone in and set it down, making it vibrate loudly on the hardwood surface to signal that it is charging and effectively wake Luke up. 

He jumps a bit, standing up and smoothing out the quilt on the bed. "Sorry, sorry. I just played down for a second and I got so tired."

I smile. "That's fine. You really don't have to sleep on the couch. You can stay on the bed if you want. It's really more your bed than mine anyways."

He gives me an incredulous look, to which I respond with an innocent smile. I'm not looking for anything tonight and Luke knows that, so there's not gonna be anything hinky going on. Plus, Luke is the first real cute guy who's payed me much attention and I like him a lot. I like his face and his laugh and his lanky breadstick legs and his broad shoulders and the way he talks to me like I'm a six foot tall supermodel or the queen of England. I don't feel nervous around him; I feel much safer than I should feel around a guy who not long ago stabbed someone, in fact. Plus it really is cold and it's only the right thing to do to offer up a warm bed instead of a couch.

Luke's lips quirk into sort of a smile. "You sure?"

Am I sure? Who knows. "Yeah, totally. It's no problem."

And so now Luke is in my bed. I don't even know his last name and he's in my bed. But here's the thing; it's not my bed, nor is it his bed, the only thing the bed is for is sleeping (at this point in time and for the foreseeable future at least), and we are both so tired that if we probably couldn't do anything even if we wanted to. But that does not discount the fact that I am indeed in bed with Luke, and he's warm and soft and when we both get in bed and the light is out I can her his steady breathing. I think back to earlier today, sitting on his lap in the car, all the sly compliments he's slipped me today without making a big deal, holding hands on the path through the woods, lying on that washing machine while he gently dresses my wound. Luke could have any girl he wants in the blink of an eye. Why give me all this attention? 

Before I can finish my thought, Luke's sleep-ridden voice interrupts me, "I'm really sorry, you know."

"For what?"

"What do you mean 'for what?' I got you stabbed, Carrie. And you can't go home because of me, and you're in danger and the cops will want to talk to you. I fucked a lot of shit up today."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I didn't really think of it that way. Whatever you did to get those guys so mad at you, whatever weird scary double life you lead, you didn't do it to put me in danger or to hurt anyone, so I don't really see any use in being upset about it."

"You're not upset that you got stabbed?"

"Oh I wouldn't say stabbed. It was barely a scrape! A gash, maybe, or a cut."

Giggles tumble from soft pink lips. We are both laying on our backs in the dark, next to each other, looking up at the ceiling and talking. Still, I can picture exactly what Luke's face must look like right now without even turning to look at him. "Thanks, Carrie."

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for not hating me for this. For giving me a chance to show you that I'm not the person I looked like I was tonight. Thanks for trusting me."

"Oh. Yeah, sure anytime, pal."

Soft chuckling again. "I like you a lot, Carrie."

"Oooooh, it's getting steamy in here! That's not something I hear everyday!"

"Shut up and let me say nice things to you!"

I snicker, "No thanks."

"Fine then, I do not like you very much, Carrie."

"Well now you're just being mean!"

"Yeah, that's me. Mean ol' murder hands Luke."

"Now you're getting it!"

"Ha ha very funny."

I breathe deeply, in and out. It triggers a yawn. "You know, for like two or three hours up until now all I've wanted to do is go to sleep, but now here I am laying in bed not sleeping. Look what you've done!"

"What I've done?"

"Yeah! Do you think I'd be up talking instead of sleeping if I was alone in bed?"

"That's a very valid point, but isn't this just so much more fun? Wouldn't you rather be in bed with me than without me?"

I don't answer for a while. Luke doesn't say anything either, so I'm almost sure he's asleep. His breathing has quieted down so much that I can't even listen to tell if he's sleeping or not. So I just say a thing, just push the sounds over my tongue and out into the room and watch them hang in the air for a minute. I say, "I like the way you say my name a lot."

Apparently Luke is not asleep. "Why?"

"Well, for one you say it a lot, which I like. I like to be addressed in sentences. It's good to know people remember my name, because sometimes they forget it and they're too embarrassed to say. And I like the way you say it; you make the 'a' sound all soft and nice. It makes the name sound like a pretty girl's name."

"Carrie, your name is a pretty girl's name because it belongs to you."

And sleep falls over us like a thick, warm blanket.