XIX : directions to anywhere

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 Dinner was quite nice. Luke kept scooting his chair closer to me when he thought I wasn't looking, and that only made me blush. He took my hand into his, and held it as we talked, like it was no big deal. But it was indeed a very big deal. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before.

Luke's touch was gentle, and kind and sweet. We ate, never in silence, and laughed way too much.

It didn't feel long before we were heading out of the back door and into a car with tinted windows.

"I would drive, but it's kind of weird here." He shyly laughs.

I shrug, hopping into the driver’s seat. I had my own car. It was one of those replaceable things that I had to leave with my mother and Larry when I left.

"Where are we going?" I ask him, ready to drive wherever he wants to take me. I'm honestly ready to go anywhere with him.

"I have the directions in here somewhere." He says, checking all of his pockets.

"Can't you just tell me? I know how to get pretty much anywhere." I tell him.

"No, I want to give you directions to where we are going. I want it to be a surprise." He pouts, finding a piece of paper and unfolding it.

"Okay, once we get onto this street, take a left then right after that a right onto 30th." 

"Can you please just tell me the street name? I'm gunna get us into an accident with your directions."

"I'm so offended Anna." He pretends to be hurt, putting a hand over his heart.

"Oh, please. Where are we going?" I ask, tapping on the wheel heading up 5 avenue.

"5th and 49th." He pouts.

"We're going ice skating?" I ask him, surprise laced in my words.

"Is that okay? If I knew that I could drive safely, then it would have been a surprise but since I'm doubtful that I could navigate New York..."

"It's fine Luke." I cut him off.

It actually feels nice to be behind the wheel of a car again. I haven't driven in about three weeks.

"Next time I'm getting a Chauffeur." Luke says, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Okay." I tell him. "I see that you don't like my driving. I get it." I act hurt, doing his same motion in putting my hand on my chest and giving him big eyes while were stopped at a red light.

He throws his hands up in the air in protest, some sort of sound coming from his mouth, but when I look over at him, he's smiling brightly, staring at me.

Him looking at me makes me really insecure. And I know that it's stupid, but I really hate when people stare. I feel like they are pointing out all of my flaws. Picking me apart piece by piece.

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