Paper Hearts

09

"There." I said, my voice uncharacteristically high. "Um, are you ready to go now?"

"Yeah." He said, and there was something in his quiet tone that made me wince with embarrassment.

He started up the engine, and that was that.

________

Fifteen minutes later, we were parked in the Grayson High parking lot—watching as loads of athletes and their dates piled out of their cares and filed into the school. The double doors were propped wide open, streamers and balloons filled the halls, and I immediately felt out-of-place.

"So," I said, after a moment of awkward silence. "What's the plan?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, and I knew that trying to explain it would make me sound like an idiot, but I did anyways.

"Um, are we...a couple?" I asked, and the confused gaze that he flung my way made me clear my throat. "You know, a—fake couple? Starting now?"

"Not tonight," Luke said decidedly, with a shake of his head. "Tonight, you're just—my date."

"Sounds good." I said, and cursed myself for the tightness in my tone.

But Luke didn't give me any more time to think about everything I was doing wrong. Instead, he slid out of the car, quickly crossing over to my side. The second my fingers clasped around the door handle, he jerked it open, allowing me enough space to step out.

"Thanks," I said, and he gave a brisk nod, which was so unlike him—I'd grown used to the quirky smiles and sarcastic comments. His solemnity was somewhat unnerving, and in the short time that we'd begun this endeavor, it seemed to come out of nowhere.

So there I was. Approaching my high school on the arm of my impromptu not-yet-but-in-a-few-weeks fake boyfriend.

I was disgusted with myself. Disgusted with the fact that I had actually allowed myself to fall into this trap of complete and utter idiocy, that I'd asked Luke Callaway to play pretend with me, that I had gotten myself this deep into a hole that I couldn't escape from.

I still hadn't called Rachael—although I knew I should, I'd been putting it off. She would probably assure me that everything was going to be alright, and not to worry, and—if I was honest with myself—that kind of encouragement wasn't what I needed.

Shaking the thought from my mind, I tried to force the impending wedding and fake-boyfriend fiasco out of my thoughts. For now, I was going to have fun. I was going to a sports banquet as Luke Callaway's friend, and that was it.

"Ready?" Luke asked, his voice somewhat perking up in the way that I was used to as he extended his hand to me.

I took it, forcing a smile

"Ready."

________

The banquet, in simplest terms, was awful.

We had to sit in the cheap plastic chairs that the school supplied for each gathering, each group of athletes sitting at a table donned in cloth—the sports players were segregated, and therefore, Luke and I were sitting at the cross-country table. There were only about five other members, each accompanied by their just-as-athletic girlfriends, who (somehow) were able to look fit and pretty at the same time. With me, it was either one or the other.

So that was Problem Number One. The girlfriends.

They sat around, chatting with each other, already familiar with the way these sports-things worked. They talked about percentages, mileages, and running records one second—the next, they were getting the latest gossip on infamous celebrity break-ups. And while I was stuck listening to them go on and on about things that I didn't particularly care about, Luke was busy punching his teammates on the arm and cracking jokes about the football players a few tables away from us.

Which was Problem Number Two. The fact that Luke wouldn't even look me in the eye, much less act as if I were actually his date.

We were about an hour into the entire ordeal when I began to feel trapped, and decided to stand up to go to the restroom.

"I'll be right back," I said to the girls, who waved their dismissive hands, and I wasn't sure whether they heard me or not. Nevertheless, I left the cafeteria behind and walked as fast as I possibly could to the bathroom.

Once there, I looked at myself in the mirror. The dress was still beautiful. My makeup hadn't been ruined.

But, somehow, it just didn't feel right.

"What am I doing here?" I asked myself aloud, glancing behind me to make sure that no one could hear me.

But someone must have, because I heard an answer sound from behind the door.

"I don't know."

Stiffening, my eyes flew to the door as I retreated from the mirror, pushing the door open, glancing to the side.

There was Luke, leaning against the wall, smiling slightly at the sight of me. Closing my eyes briefly, I forced myself outside, slumping against the wall beside him, so that my shoulder touched his.

"I'm sorry." He said, and his voice was flat. "I shouldn't have forced you to come. I mean, you're not having fun, and—"

"I am having fun," I protested, but the look he gave me proved that he saw right through my lie.

"Sorry." I said, my voice quavering. "I don't know; it's just kind of—awkward."

"Awkward," he repeated, and I could hear the sarcasm dripping from his tone. "So...this is more awkward than me travelling down to Florida to be your fake boyfriend for a week? Because you lied to your mom?"

He had a point, and I hated that.

I didn't say anything. I just stood there, swallowing hard as he stared at the opposite wall, his gaze blank.

It got to the point where I was uncomfortable, suffocating in the silence, so unused to this side of Luke, to the side that was cold and unrelenting. I hated him for proving me wrong and I hated myself for allowing him to prove me wrong.

But he did. And who was I to stop him?

So I kept my mouth shut and tried to subdue the tears that rose in the back of my throat, heating my eyes and threatening to spill.

"Victoria," Came Luke's voice then, soft and vulnerable and very much like the version of him I knew.

"What?" I asked, my voice sticking to the back of my throat.

He glanced at me, his steely gaze boring into me as he inhaled deeply, opening his mouth to speak.

And when he did, I was anything but prepared.