cool » l. hemmings

xxvii.

"This isn't going to be like what happened to Michael," I mumbled breathlessly, pulling quickly away from his lips and sliding out of his bed.

Luke looked down and sighed, running his fingers through his hair and then his hands over his face. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he kept repeating.

God I liked Luke a lot. A lot more than I've liked anyone, ever. Seeing him with Brooke absolutely disgusted me because she's so horrible and he's so...different. He's different and I can't describe him in just one word other than that because it would take me about ten years.

The amount of times I'd heard him ramble about her almost made me cry. I've never felt like this toward anyone before and I have no idea how to handle it. And the past few weeks hve made me realize that I, Michelle Anne Cross, may have a slight schoolgirl crush on Luke Hemmings. Even more than that, actually.

"Can I ask you a question?" My voice quiet, so close to breaking I could feel it. I looked down at my pale, scratched hands, chewed-to-the-nub fingernails at the ends of them.

Luke moved in front of me and grabbed my chin with his thumb and index finger, making me look back up at him. "Please."

"You're stood here kissing me. You've let me sleep in the same bed as you -- you've told me you liked me," I sighed, pulling away from his hand, "and you're still with someone who you complain about almost every day."

We were still standing in the bedroom, my back against the door; I couldn't go anywhere with him in front of me. "Do you want to know the truth?"

I nodded my head and continued looking down and avoiding his gaze. He sighed, I could feel it from how close I still was to him. I tensed when his arms went to wrap around my neck. He released and grabbed my own arms, pulling them around his waist and putting his back where they were. I didn't pull away. I don't care how weird this whole thing has made me, I needed a hug. If he was the only one to give, I would take.

"Two years is a long time with someone. Six months of that was spent hiding, and believe me it hurt like hell. Brooke's kind of a bad person, I know. But I can't just break up with her and I'm sorry for being that kind of person. I didn't even want to continue being your friend after realizing you knew Michael," his hand moved to play with my messy nest of hair. "But I did and I'm so happy that I decided to because you're so much better than she ever will be."

"Obviously not, you're still with her," I let out a dry laugh and I'm guessing he heard the strain in the sentence.

Luke's voice was shaky. "Please don't cry. Please, please don't cry. I promise she won't find out, I'll end it next time she's visiting. For real this time, I promise." He released from holding me and put his hands on my cheeks, running his thumb over the bags that accompanied my tired gray eyes even though there was no reason to.

"But I don't want to cause any--" he interrupted by planting his lips on mine repeatedly.

"It'll be my fault. Not yours," smiling a small and reassuring smile, his hands were kept where they were. "This is my idea. I'm responsible."

"I'm a part of it." Even if I had a strong hatred toward Brooke, I still couldn't hurt anyone. No matter how much I wanted to push them into the middle of NASCAR race. I'm not sure if I'm even friends with Michael anymore, but I can't be part of something that caused him so much depression for so long. Especially with the same people who caused it.

"Michelle, please. I want to be with you. You have no idea how bad I want to be with you," Luke continued to beg. His eyes stared into mine with a look of pure desperation and pleading. "I just can't end it with her now. She's not here. I can't end it when it's not face-to-face."