The Truth About That Summer

thirty-four

Feeling the threads of my sanity unraveling faster than I can control, I shake my head and push past his body, just catching his deep sigh as I pull open a dresser drawer.

"Here," I grunt, holding my breath and grabbing the first shirt I see, almost throwing it into Luke's hands. And then I shove the drawer closed, Casey's scent weakening as I do.

I don't meet Luke's eyes, focused instead on how he fists the fabric of the shirt, his knuckles turning white as he rolls it over and over in his hands. When I finally manage to look up, I see his dark brows furrowed over his eyes, his forehead crinkled in concentration as he glares at the polo.

As if snapping out of a trance, Luke perks his head up. "Thanks," He lifts the shirt to me, still reluctant to pull it on.

I nod, eyeing the door eagerly.

Someone please get me the fuck out of here.

Luke doesn't budge, his tall frame blocking my way.

Eyeing him carefully, I speak softly, regular volume taking too much effort. "I'll give you some privacy."

"Not necessary," Luke shrugs. "You've seen me at the beach."

And... other places. And positions. In various states of undress.

My teeth find my bottom lip.

He takes the hem of his sodden shirt between his long fingers, eyeing me wickedly as he continues. "Unless it makes you uncomfortable..."

And it does. The apex of my thighs in particular, but I don't want him to know - that as much as I hate him, he still affects me. My body. More than anyone else ever has.

So I shrug, only stealing a peek from under my lashes as Luke finally pulls the wet cotton over his head. His skin is tan and smooth over his muscular frame, his ab lines trailing below his jeans in a deep, delicious V.

I ignore the way water droplets glisten over his skin like a goddamn swim suit model, instead focusing my curiosity on the dark ink down his forearm.

I try not to look disappointed once he's fully clothed again, a smug, knowing smirk on his full lips as he looks at me.

"There." He murmurs, leaning down to pick up the wet clothes. "All dry."

Gulping, I rush towards the door, ready to resume my hiding from this room and everything in it that's too painful to remember.

Just as I open the door, Luke presses his hand against it, forcing it closed. His body is right behind mine, his breath hot down my neck.

When I finally turn, my heartbeat racing and my breath shallow, he keeps his hand placed firmly by my head, keeping the door closed and me in place between it and his body.

"I need to clean up the mess downstairs." I mutter weakly, not daring to look into his eyes.

"Have you thought about what I said?" His voice is low, his head leaned in close to my face.

"No." I lie, finally peering up at him. "Because the kiss didn't mean anything. And there won't be any more in the future."

Luke grins despite my determination, his head cocked to the side as if he's delighted by the challenge.

"If it didn't mean anything," He wets his lips with his tongue, "Then why are you so adamant that we don't do it again? Scared you'll enjoy yourself too much?" He traces my cheek lightly with his thumb. "Not be able to resist me?"

"You wish," I shake my head.

"Maybe I do," He smirks.

"But no, I'm definitely not worried about that happening." My chin sticks out defiantly, my voice sounding more confident than I feel.

"Really?" Luke leans in, his breath tickling my neck as he whispers into my ear. "So prove it."

I glare up at him, at his cocky smile, his womanizing attitude.

God, I hate him. So, so much.

"Fine." I spit anyways, "I will."

Barely registering the surprised look on his face, I bring my hands around his neck and pull his mouth down to mine, meeting his lips with a wet, hot kiss.

thanks for reading loves!
poor Dylan. this chapter made my heart hurt for her.
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what are y'all's impressions of Luke 🤔
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