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     "KENDALL! PANCAKES ARE ready!" I jolt awake, eyes bulging and breath hitching as my mother calls to me, panic flashing in every possible direction. I try to move but I can't because Luke's arms are holding me captive and I can't tell what's more concerning. The fact that my mother could barge in, see us any moment, and mistake this for something that it isn't, or the fact that I don't want to untangle myself from him. He is warm and his chin is resting on the top of my head and I want to go back to sleep, just like this, but I know that I can't. I know that I shouldn't.

     "Luke," I whisper, squirming to try to ease his grip on me. "Luke," I say, louder this time as I try and fail to push myself away from him. I know he hears me now because he groans softly and buries his head into the back of my neck.

     "Nooo," He grumbles, failing to relinquish his hold. I shift so that now we face each other and after a few seconds, Luke opens his eyes slowly. His blue eyes lazily scan across my face and he looks tired, I know he is tired. His face is slightly swollen, but not as much as it should be. My guess is that the makeshift ice pack is responsible for that. "You sure know how to work a tape dispenser, don’t you?" Luke snickers in a low, groggy voice before running his fingers along his forehead. He winces when he comes in contact with the cut.

     "Not as good as the job you did on my ankle but, I tried." I force a small smile, still fidgeting. Last night it was dark and we were both tired, both needed someone. But now I wanted to get away because this wasn't right even though it sort of felt like it was. Luke senses my discomfort and loosens his grip, letting me slip away from him. I quickly jump off of the bed and scurry across the room, pulling my balcony door open.

     I chew on my bottom lip and glance over at him, not exactly wanting to kick him out. I knew he couldn’t stay because if my Mom found us, I was dead. I was dead for letting him in without telling her, add sleeping in the same bed as him and she was already paying for my funeral.

     “Kendall, come on! I have to go to work!” She calls again, growing impatient. Luke sits up, rubbing at his eyes. She couldn’t miss work, especially now that my dad was gone. Money would be even tighter and she couldn’t afford to lose the clients she had at the salon.

     “Want me to leave?” He offers, arching a blonde brow. I breath in deeply and just stare at him as he holds his body up with his arms, blinking tiredly and looking miserable. I was able to ease that misery, albeit slightly, last night.If I could stop him from hurting, at least a little, I should.

     “No,” I say before I can stop myself even though yes, I wanted him to leave, he had to leave. But he had nowhere else to go. It was six in the morning and we weren’t supposed to be in school yet. What would he do, roam the streets until the doors opened? That would be ridiculous. “Stay, just hold on.” Luke nods, a small smile spreading along his lips.

     After I brush my teeth, I run downstairs and spend about fifteen minutes distracting my mother. I thank her for the pancakes and scarf two down while she sips on coffee from across the kitchen. I hope that she didn’t leave anything upstairs, and that she wouldn’t need to go up there for any reason.

     She has painted her nails and curled her hair to perfect waves cascading along her back. Her makeup is on full scale, and she’s wearing tight jeans, ankle boots, and a blue top that showcases her cleavage. This transition happened sooner than I had anticipated. She no longer wants to be the pitiful woman crying over a failed marriage. She wants to throw her husband away and forget that he ever existed. She wants to start over. The trouble is, that’s a little hard to do when you’ve been married for nineteen years. Even harder when you have a daughter.

The Book Thief 》Hemmings A.UWhere stories live. Discover now