wicked//punk l.h

chapter seven

don't mistake
salt for sugar
if he wants to
be with you
he will
it's that simple
||rupi kaur||

WE DROVE FOR WHAT seemed like hours. Luke and I went for coffee to his favourite diner. Then, he showed me places of the city I haven't gotten around to seeing. Since I literally had no idea where we were going, I let him drive. I had to tell him multiple times that he's pretty damn special because I never let anyone drive my baby.

"So, why did you move?" Luke asked, pulling into a random neighbourhood.

I fidgeted with the sleeves of my sweater. "My moms kind of psycho," I briefly explained. I made a deal with myself that what happened in New York stays in New York.

"Is that all? Just your mom being psycho? Because my moms kind of psycho too but I haven't moved."

I rolled my eyes, but not in a cute, sassy way. I hated when people do this. I only told Luke 5 words to a story that could take weeks to explain, and he has the nerve to say that I don't have to move because of her?

God, he doesn't even know what she's done to my family.

I didn't know what snapped in me. Maybe it was my urge to prove people wrong all the time, but I couldn't let Luke think I ran away for a dumb reason.

"She was so psycho that my brother killed himself because of her. After that, I had no protection because he was like my safety blanket. She took all her anger out on me. Always reminded me of why she was a waitress rather than a fucking doctor or some shit. Everyone knew she'd never get farther in life even if she aborted me and my brother. So, when I found a way to get out of that fucked up house, I did. I got my ass away before I ended up like my brother."

He stayed silent, only taking glances to me with that pitty look I always get.

At Andy's funeral, that's all I seemed to get. Everyone that finds out my story, they all give me that same annoying look.

"Don't look at me like that," I spat. He was just getting me pissed off and I wanted to just go home. But, he's driving and stubborn. I know he's not going to let me out.

"Like what?"

"You did it again!" I was growing more and more frustrated by the second.

See, some people deal with a close loss by crying their eyes out. Whenever they talk about it, they cry. That's not me. I haven't cried about my bother since the night I got the call saying he was dead. I do however take everything out with anger. I rebel. I do anything and everything to show that I have no feelings.

Luke dropped the argument, which I was happy about.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out.

I furrowed my brows. "What?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you to tell me anything. I didn't mean to look at you whatever way I did. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry."

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. God, why do I have to be so damn difficult? Luke is literally apologizing and I'm over here being salty.

With that thought, I dropped my arms and looked over at him. "I'm a dick. I don't like people assuming stuff about my life before they know the whole story. I hate being labeled as a coward. And I hate when people give me that look that's like 'oh I'm so sorry for your loss. It'll be okay'. Like no it really won't," I vented. "I'm sorry. I haven't been able to tell anyone anything for a very long time."

He sent a kind smile my way while resting a hand on my thigh. "I'm here for you whenever."

That small little gesture made my stomach do flips. It was like a mini circus in there and I hated it. I hated the way he made me feel. It was just too weird for me.

"Do you know any dirt on Reece?" I asked, getting a devilish idea.

He seemed to catch on because he just shook his head. "I'm not getting involved in this cat fight you've got going on. I'd love to see something happen to her, but I'm not going to be the reason."

I pouted, giving my best puppy dog eyes.

"And those creepy eye things girls always try to do. Yeah no, don't work for me."

"Honestly, it seems like you're scared of her," I smirked, trying to get him to spill anything. It wasn't working though. He knew too many tricks.

"No, I'm scared of the law enforcement and Liz Hemmings," he stated, pulling into an empty parking lot. He put the car in park then turned to face me.

"Your mom I'm guessing?" I raised an eyebrow.

He nodded. "She's psycho."

I glared at him. "How much you wanna bet my mom is crazier than yours?"

"I'll bet a pack of cigarettes," Luke smirked.

"I don't smoke."

He shrugged. "Better not win."

I had a smirk as well. "I bet 5 CDs of choice." I pulled open the middle compartment to reveal only an eighth of my collection.

Luke's eye's sparkled at the sight.

"Bet."

We shook hands before getting comfortable.

"My mom once left me home alone on Christmas while she went to Cuba or something," Luke started.

"My mom left me alone for 5 months while she lived with her abusive boyfriend in the next state."

"She made me stay in my room while all my family came over that I kind of like. She said they'd be freaked out by my tattoos."

"Ouch. She forgot I had family."

"Damn girl. This is all true?" Luke seemed shocked.

I nodded. "You give up?"

He sighed in defeat.

A huge smile crept up on my face. The joy of winning would never seem to lessen.

He handed me an unopened pack of cigarettes, then asked if he could bum one off me. I held them close to me and said no.

"Okay, now switch back. I'm having withdrawals from driving my baby."