The Truth About That Summer

fifty-eight

Sucking in a deep breath, I knock on the door harder than necessary, the adrenaline making my hands shake. There's no immediate answer so I knock again, faster and louder than the first time.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." His voice comes through the doorway before I see him. When he pulls it open, he's still speaking, "Laura, you're early, I-"

His mouth is stuck in a perfect O, his words suspended in midair as we stare at each other.

He must've just rolled out of bed, his dark hair a mess around his sleepy face, his ripped torso topless and dipping into low-slung pajama bottoms.

I take a minute to compose myself as he does the same and I try to pretend my heartbeat isn't pounding in my own ears.

Leaning one hand against the doorframe, Luke's head cocks to the side. I realize then that he won't be the first to speak.

"Good morning." I mutter quickly, too chicken to say what I really want to.

He raises his brows. "If you say so."

"Right." I swallow hard. This wouldn't be so difficult if I hadn't been so stubborn, so adamant that he was the villain in this story. "Listen, Luke, I need you to be honest with me because I don't know how much more bull shit about that night I can take."

"Dylan, it's really not something we have to get into. I shouldn't have brought it up, so why don't we just act like I didn't?"

He's closing the door and I put my foot against it, holding it open. "Because you did." The words are too harsh. Softening my voice and trying to keep it steady, I continue, "And because, Luke, I feel like I'm drowning every day. Some days, I tread water, my head barely above the surface. And other days, other days, Luke, I'm so afraid that I'm going to be swallowed whole." I take a shaky breath and keep going. "And the only time I don't feel like that, is when I'm with you. I'm with you and yeah, maybe I'm angry and hurt and upset, but I can remember what life was like before. What it was like to not be just barely staying afloat."

Luke's eyes bore into mine, his expression crumpling as tears build in my eyes.

"So I really, really need to know," I wipe my cheeks roughly, "If I'm going to give that up... That I'm doing it for a good reason."

Taking a step away from the door, Luke gestures me inside. "Come on, let's sit."

So we do. His bed unmade from the night before, we perch on the couch, an awkward distance between us.

Over my sniffles, Luke clears his throat. "I knew Case texted you before we even left the party, I didn't know what it said, but I knew you probably knew something was up."

We need to talk about Luke. I remember the text as clearly as if I were reading it now.

"And after the funeral, I just... I couldn't look at you, knowing that you didn't know. I confronted Maya about it but she begged me not to tell you. I couldn't keep it from you, not when I felt like it was my fault. Had I'd seen how she was acting earlier, or had I called her out on it, or talked to Casey... better, made him understand, the kiss never would've happened." Luke glares at the dark ink on his forearm. "Then the accident wouldn't have either."

The accident wouldn't have happened if you weren't drinking and driving.

The thought is instinctual, automatic, and anger surges through me in a red hot wave. But the desire to be near Luke, to inhale the air he provides, is too strong to leave.

So I say nothing.

"I told Maya I would take the blame, I'd say I was the one to kiss her." Luke's thick brows knit together over his eyes, "As long as you guys stayed close and she didn't bring the kiss up again. So after the funeral, I finally told you, and we broke up."