Until I Met You

19 | "i'm sorry, Jade."

It's a little more than awkward in English class now. This is due to the fact that Luke remains sitting behind me, and I in front of him, even after everything. Emma sits next to me, and between the three of us it's like a triangle of pent-up tension and negative energy. Luke is mad at me, and Emma is mad at Luke, and maybe I'm a little mad at Luke, too. Not necessarily because of anything he's done to me—I think I'm getting over all that happened between us—but because of his decision to self-destruct, and I don't want that for him.

I think all I can do to help Luke at this point is forgive him. Sure, the two of us wanted to be together at different times, yet those times never collided and maybe they never will. Besides, it's all thanks to Luke that I've ended up with Liam at all. I suppose it's even thanks to him that I met Liam in the first place. And I'm happy with my boyfriend, and I'm tired of letting things get in the way of that.

As Ms. Edwards enters the classroom with her copy of Romeo and Juliet in hand, I try my best to clear my mind and pay attention. Though we're almost halfway through with the play by this point, some of my classmates still mumble under their breath as they reach for their copies. I roll my eyes at this, shifting uncomfortably in my seat as I notice my book is missing from under my desk. I must have absentmindedly kicked it, as my copy of the play is now sitting on the ground to the side of Luke's desk.

I share a glance with Emma, silently pleading with her to ask Luke to grab my book for me. She wrinkles her nose and shrugs in response, her expression telling me all I need to know: she's not gonna get it for me.

From behind me, a deep voice clears their throat. I turn around in my seat to find Luke holding my book in hand, expression steely, blue eyes as icy as usual. I wonder if this is how all of our interactions will be from now on. As if we're strangers, but worse somehow. Strangers who seem to have an e distaste of one another.

"Is this yours?" Luke's voice breaks through my thoughts.

I blink as I realize I've spaced. "Um, yeah," I mumble, reaching for the book as Luke extends it to me. Our fingers brush during the transaction, Luke's touch a spark on my skin that lingers even when his hand is long gone. Where I felt a spark, Luke must have felt a fire, as the second we touch he jerks away as if he's been shocked.

I purse my lips, wondering why his reaction insults me and why I feel the need to show Luke that I don't hate him, despite everything.

I try for a smile, though I'm sure it comes out as more of a sad grimace. "Thank you."

Luke falters under my stare. "No problem."

I can't stop myself from getting lost in his eyes. His irises remind me of a lake in the winter. Sparkling blue water hard and frozen over with cold ice. Pretty to look at, even though you know it can be dangerous. And though there is that hidden layer of danger—even though you know one step onto that ice could send the surface splintering into cracks that could lead to a freezing and lonely death—there's also an air of curiosity, making Luke's eyes something impossible to look away from.