"Who was that guy?" I ask Luke, taking a bite of my cookie. He grabs one from the package and leans back on my sofa, resting his bare feet on the coffee table. I tuck my feet under my bum and rest against the arm of the sofa.
"Nick Dupage. He's the creepiest guy to ever exist." Luke explains. He shoves the entire cookie in his mouth and chews loudly.
I shudder at yesterday's memory. No matter how many times Luke called or texted asking me to open the door for him, I ignored it and stayed in my room for the rest of the night. I spent the entire night scrolling through my Twitter fees on my laptop until I felt mentally stable again. By then it was eight in the morning.
"What did he do to you, Mere?" He asks seriously, his stupid-yet-adorable smile no where to be seen.
"Kissed me, felt me up, you know." I cringe at the words coming out of my mouth. Never in my life had I thought I would ever have to admit something so revolting.
"Do you need me to beat his ass? Because I know what apartment he's in and-"
"No one's ass needs to be beat, Luke." I nudge his knee with my foot. "We was drunk, I could smell the alcohol."
He snorts. "That doesn't change the fact that what he did was disgusting. He's almost forty and you're, what, nineteen?"
I nod in agreement and keep my mouth shut. Instead of arguing over the dirty, drunk man I stick another cookie in my mouth and look up at the ceiling.
"Please don't ignore my calls and texts, I was worried about you." He whispers, bringing me back into reality. I nod and look down at my busy fingers.
"I know. I'm sorry."
Silence falls over us, but it isn't uncomfortable in the slightest. To me, at least. I feel safe with Luke, like nothing can hurt me when he's around.
"We went to prison for rape, but got out early for good behavior. That's why his wife left him."
I meet Luke's eyes with my sad ones. It's sad that a man who has potential to do better, his crime being horrible but not so extreme as it could have been, recieve freedom from prison only to have his wife leave. I know how I would feel if the one I love were to be ripped away.
Luke suddenly lunges forward and wraps his arms around me in a warm hug. My arms find their way around his waist and hug him back, my head nuzzled in his neck. His presence makes me feel safe, but his hugs make me feel like nothing can touch me.
I feel like I might cry but I hold everything in. I don't want to cry in front of Luke, especially since I don't know if they're tears of saddness or tears of happiness. I'm a mess.
He pulls away but stays close, letting his usual smile appear on his lips.
"How about we watch a movie to take your mind off of yesterday?" He suggests, grabbing my TV remote off of the side table and pressing the power button. "Do you have Netflix?"
"Duh." I respond, snatching the remote from him and setting up my Netflix.
"Have you seen Orange Is The New Black yet? There are two seasons up." I ask, pointing the remote at the TV. Luke shakes his head, which is permission enough for me to put on the first episode. "There's a lot of boobs."
"Nice." He smirks, getting comfortable. I reach down and pull a blanket out from under the couch, then drape it over my body. Luke then sneaks under the blanket and rests his head on my shoulder. Naturally, my head falls over on top of his and we mesh together like a blob of human.
-
Later that night, after Luke is already gone and I've already gotten ready for bed, I step into the bathroom and turn the light on, a single thought in my mind.
Does Luke only like girls with big boobs?
It seems silly to ask myself this question, but I noticed the way he gawked at the woman's boobs at Marty's and the way he enjoyed the nudity way too much during the show. I can't say it doesn't bother me, because that would be lying.
I look at my own set in the mirror and move them around a bit, trying to find a way to make them look bigger. Nothing works, making me feel slightly more insecure about my body. I never thought I'd get this worked up over boobs.
I can't say that I don't like Luke, because that would also be lying. I don't know how I want us to end up. He's adorable, funny, energetic, sweet, and definitely gorgeous,
everything I'm not. It makes me wonder if he likes me. It's hard to tell what he's thinking.
-
Monday rolls around faster than I expected and I soon find myself walking into the book store, clad in my tee shirt, leggings, and converse. My name tag hangs from under the pocket of my shirt.
"Are you Meredith? That was a dumb question, it says so on your shirt. Duh. My name's Adam." A tall brunette greets me when the tiny bell rings. I wave at him and smile, meeting him at the counter.
"Your Mum said you were gonna give me my work schedule?" I state, my sentence coming out sounding like a question.
"Right, yeah. Nice accent by the way." He hands me a small packet of paper, my name scribbled at the top. I flip through the pages to find that my schedule has been set from now until four months from now.
"If you need days off, you can call me. My number's right there." He points to a phone number written under my name. "This is a family-run business, so there isn't a set amount of sick days you can take. But too many can get you fired."
"Unlimited yet limited sick days. Got it." I joke, folding the packet in half and tucking it into my leggings.
"You can also use that number if you're ever bored or lonely. I do have to warn you, though, I don't date co-workers." Adam flirts, leaning against the counter.
"Right." I look at him skeptically but toss my thoughts to the side. "What can I do?"
"You can reorganize the books in the children's section. A class took a little field trip here and practically destroyed everything."
"On it."
I find my way to the children's section using the overhead signs. I can tell what Adam meant when he said they practically destroyed everything.
It's going to be a long day with a task like this.
-
Right when I lock the door to my apartment I fall over onto the sofa and take a deep breath. Who knew working at a book store could be so exhausting? It could be the fact that my noodle arms aren't used to lifting displays or stacks of books. Or maybe the fact that I wanted to prove myself worthy of that job by not taking any breaks except for a fifteen minute lunch break.
Either way, I'm tired as hell.
I haven't talked to Luke today, which feels unusual. Not once did his name pop up on my screen. I thought about him a lot. Mainly his smile.
Maybe he saw me leave the building this morning for work and knew I was busy. He could have texted or called, I would have answered.
Instead of pondering over Luke for hours I decide to take a hot shower and go to bed. I'm in bed by ten o'clock and I'm out soon after.
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