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He looks like he has soft skin.

That's the only thing I can think about as I look at Luke in the barely-there moonlight through the gaps by the back entrance. Luke looks different in darkness than he did at the diner, but I guess that's how it always works. Looking at someone at twilight is completely different from how you look at them in full lighting.

I really look at him now that I have the chance, taking in his lean figure, sharp jaw-line, broad shoulders. His fingers are long and masculine looking, but still graceful. I can imagine him being good at things like the violin and piano.

"How did this whole thing start?"

"What?" I look up at him, trying to act like I wasn't already staring.

"This." he gestures around, like it clarifies the question. "The driving."

I think back to Sawyer, all those weekends I asked to drive with him. The day I had brought it up to him is a memory I have stuck in my back pocket at all time, reserved mostly for when I miss him.

"You want to what?" Sawyer had asked, shooting up from his twin bed. His baby blue sheets wrinkled under his thin frame.

"Go with you," I responded. "I really liked that driving thing."

He just gave that me that look that teenagers have mastered. That sly and ridiculously unreadable look, somewhere between amused and annoyed.

He adjusted his glasses and looked at me. "Harper, come on. You couldn't have enjoyed going on that stupid drive, there's no way. You were in the car with two drunk teenagers and your brother, that doesn't sound all that great."

I remember insisting with things like no, I really did enjoy it and I remember Sawyer just running his hands through his hair. I knew he felt conflicted, mostly since our relationship had always had a weird strain on it. The age gap put a serious wedge between the two of us, one that we couldn't shake. But we're still siblings and I know all he could think about was going into college and growing up and living his life but always regretting not getting to know his sister. He's too compassionate to throw me away—he lives and breathes his family, even if we constantly frustrate him.

Sawyer reluctantly agreed eventually, something I've always appreciated. Mom and Dad were originally suspicious when I started leaving the house with Sawyer at weird hours, but I think they were just thankful we were bonding. He would usually tell them he was taking me out for some late night pancakes, which wasn't a complete lie since he usually would buy me food after dropping his friends off. 

After a while, driving was a pretty frequent thing. Sawyer would come into my room pretty late and tell we needed to go and we did. Even on weekends where we didn't need to get anyone from parties, Sawyer and I still found ourselves driving around town and ending up on quiet backroads.

I got used to seeing Eden, mostly. I really liked Eden, with her soft hair and gentle smile. She'd talk to me like we'd known each other for years, but not in a way where she just wanted to make Sawyer happy. When Sawyer finally brought her home and Eden spent time over at my house, she'd braid my hair and tell me stories about when she was my age.

The memory makes my eyes sting and I immediately blink it back.

"My brother, Sawyer, used to do it. His friends would go get drunk over the weekends a lot and then after they were done they'd call him and he'd bring them home. I joined once and that was it, I wanted to keep doing it."

"Were you guys close?" I can see Luke hesitating on the question, unsure of how deep he can dig before I shut him out completely. But I find myself wanting to tell Luke things. Blame it on partial exhaustion or the mood of the night, but I trust him. I actually want to tell him things.

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