SIX

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"Hey, Zoya?" Luke called out softly, his head lying comfortably on the girl's lap.

She looked down at him with a fond smile. "Yes, Lucas?"

He always liked when she called him that, especially how it sounded with a tinge of her faded Russian accent.

"You remember Mason from the other night, right?"

Zoya hummed distractedly, preoccupied with running her small hands through Luke's red locks.

"What do you think about him?"

Zoya looked down at her boyfriend with a raised eyebrow. "He's nice. I don't know; I didn't pay him much attention."

Luke nodded. After a while, he added, "You know we went to high school together, yeah?"

"Oh?" she questioned. "I didn't, actually."

"Yeah, we were on the football team together," he elaborated.

Zoya pursed her lips, "Why do you ask?"

Luke held one of her hands that was caressing his cheek, bringing it down to his lips and pressing a kiss against her knuckles.

"He's very handsome, isn't he?" he asked carefully.

Zoya's eyebrows shot up; the conversation suddenly felt all too familiar for her, like déjà vu.

"I suppose," she responded curtly.

Luke smiled up at her, amused. "You suppose?"

Zoya hated beating around the bush, so she cut to the chase immediately. "You want to sleep with him?"

Luke laughed. "I'm not sure yet. I just wanted to let you know, in case something does happen between me and him."

Luke and Zoya had a somewhat open relationship—well, not exactly.

When Zoya first met the charming boy, she fell head over heels for him. She really couldn't help it; in her defense, Luke's allure had always managed to win people over. The manipulative flirt knew exactly what to say and do to get people hooked on him. With him, Zoya felt desired and special; it was everything she'd ever wanted from a relationship and more.

The blonde girl was stunning, so she, of course, was used to men giving her all types of attention. With Luke, however, it was different. She loved that he also made her work for it; it kept things interesting and exciting. Zoya constantly felt like she had to fight for his attention, which made eventually getting it all the more meaningful to her.

Their undeniable chemistry, however, was no incentive for Luke to settle down.

He hated feeling tied down and committed, especially at such a young age. He wanted to taste and explore all the beautiful girls and boys who were so readily eager for his taking.

Gorgeous as she was, Zoya would never be enough for Luke. Not sexually, at least.

All this, he had made clear to her. Zoya, though, was already in too deep. The feelings she'd developed for him were far too serious—too world-stopping—for her to ever want to let go of him. She wanted him in every way possible.

She, therefore, had offered him the best of both worlds: a sort-of serious relationship to flaunt, plus all the sex he wanted, with whomever he wanted.

It was too good for Luke to refuse.

Zoya was beautiful, after all. She never demanded too much of him, and she never get unnecessarily jealous or possessive. As long as he gave her what he needed, showed her some affection, and was always honest with her, there were very few things she ever opposed to.

She loved that he always asked her approval before engaging in any type of physical relationship with anyone else. Then again, she happened to love everything about Luke, so it really was no surprise that his small acts of decency were almost heroic to her. His openness also helped her cope with her jealousy. If she knew exactly what was going on with his other affairs, she'd know exactly what to do to always be one step ahead.

Zoya wasn't oblivious. She knew he didn't love her—at least, not in the same way she did.

Nevertheless, she was positive he would, one day. He had to, because, to her, they were written in the stars, destined to be together.

"Okay," she replied after a while, answering his unasked question. "Thank you for telling me."

He grinned, leaning up to kiss her quickly on the lips. "Thank you, for being so amazing about all of this."

"I love you."

Luke's smile became tight; he never really did like when she said that to him. Mostly because he never really knew what to respond.

"Yeah," he kissed her again. "I should go; it's getting late. I'll see you tomorrow?"

She nodded eagerly. "Of course."

Luke stood up, placing a gentle kiss at the top of her head. Zoya swooned, looking up at him with the most lovesick expression he'd ever seen. Quickly, he left.

She fell back onto the mattress, a deep sigh leaving her lips. How could she not love him, when he was so good to her? Times like that, small affectionate gestures—even his smile—it made up for everything else. Luke could sleep with her sister, for all she cared about. It made no difference to her.

It wouldn't make her love him less. Nothing would.

Naively, she wondered if he ever felt the same about her. Stupidly, she dared believe he sometimes did.

Luke wasn't unfair: If he could sleep with other people, so could she. He absolutely didn't mind if his girlfriend wanted to have sex with somebody else. She never did, however. Luke was always more than enough for her. He satisfied her every need—physically, mentally, sexually, emotionally. She didn't need anyone or anything else. She never even thought of being with anyone else since they began dating—if she could even call their relationship that. She didn't dwell on it, though, because labels didn't really matter to her.

Nothing else mattered. Luke was perfect, in every way possible.

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