42 - move on

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Luke Hemmings
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"I'm not going to tell anyone."

My chest hurts. It hurts really fucking bad. I can't even fathom how desperately and pathetically I'd been hoping it would be my sweet little girl to walk through that door; coming to take the stress away and make me feel better, in the way that only she's been able to do.

But she didn't come, and instead I'm face to face with my past—with a girl that makes me feel like I'm looking straight through a mirror, but instead of seeing myself I see short blonde hair, a lip ring, and an overwhelming sense of brokenness.

It's just not me anymore. And the girl in front of me isn't the one I love.

"For the last time," I grit. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Sidney sighs. She's acting different—much different than how she'd acted as my assistant, and completely shifted from her behavior at the party from so long ago. But it doesn't ease me, not even slightly, for I've known this girl for a very long time, and she managed to fool me for years.

"Lu," I cringe, partially because she looks genuinely concerned, and partially from the nickname. "Come on, I'm not an idiot."

"Look, Sidney," I huff, hand coming to run though my hair. "I don't know what you think you know, but it's not—"

"Please, Luke, just save it," she sighs. "You don't think I recognized her the moment she walked in? It wasn't hard to put together."

I'm wondering when the right time to panic is. It might be now, but all I feel is frustration. Frustration because my jaw hurts, I've got a headache for the fucking books, and all I want is my girl.

Not this girl—the one stepping closer to me. My girl.

And then I think about Elise, and I think about what this information could do to a sweet freshman in a place like this, and suddenly I get angry. I'm not even angry at Sidney—not fully, anyways—but rather myself.

To hell with my fucking job; Elise's reputation would be trashed if this got out. I'm not an idiot, I know my place as a man in this society and I know hers. As much as I wish it wasn't true; the girl will always get dragged through the dirt. A slut, a whore; you name it, they'll say it. Yet somehow, they'd find a way to praise me—everyone except the administration, that is.

But the fact that all of this lies in Sidney's hands, makes me feel sick. Sick because it's my fault, and it's my responsibility, but I was too goddamn selfishly in love with the girl that I couldn't find it in me to stop. I still can't, truthfully, and that's why I start to panic.

"I don't know what the fuck you want me to say." I can't tell if I'm giving up. I don't know what I'm doing.

"Nothing, Luke," She takes a step toward me and I take one back. She notices, and she frowns. "I just want you to hear what I have to say."

Do I have a choice? I wonder. No, no, you really don't.

"What more could you possibly say?" I mutter, leaning against my desk with a sigh. "What do you even want?"

For some odd reason, Sidney doesn't laugh bitterly, like I expect her to. She doesn't even use sarcasm, she just speaks—the same, normal way she used to long ago. I'd be lying if I said it didn't catch me off guard, for I haven't seen her without her defensive facade in quite some time.

"I want you to understand," I frown and she takes a step forward. "I want you to forgive me."

Now that, I hadn't been expecting in the least. I don't try to hide my disdain and confusion, and frankly, I couldn't care less if she noticed it. "Why the hell would I do that?"

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