this picture is really cute ok
also I couldn't be bothered to reread all of this over, so please excuse typos.
32 | "do I know you?"
"Anastasia, do you think you can stop sitting around staring at that computer for just a second and actually do something! Mrs. Báringer needs the color cards, they're in the truck." With her arms full of tablecloths and her hair messily hanging around her face, my mom shoots an aggravated glance at me over her glasses, and disappears into the banquet hall.
Looking up from my laptop, I turn to look out the window at her and shout, "I'll be there in a second!"
All day, my mom has been in crazy "my wedding needs to be perfect" mode and we, meaning our entire house have all been running around, finalizing the order of the wedding ceremony and reception, tasting several different samples of wedding cake, and designing color pallets with the florist, for her.
I am incredibly tired to say the least, I'm freaking starving and my shoulder is killing me. With a quiet groan, I shut my computer screen, tuck it back into the back pocket of the drivers seat and twist around in the car to look for the book of color arrangements we picked up earlier.
It's wedged underneath crates full of other wedding binders, and I lean over further to grab it. Wrapping my fingers around the corner, I pull it out and rest it in my lap before sighing and popping the car door open.
Quickly heading into the banquet hall, I shuffle into the main room where my mom and Andrew are following a small woman around. She's loud, and boisterous with long, flowing blonde hair, "Are those the palettes de couleurs?"
My mom looks back at me, nods, and literally snatches the book from my hands. The force yanks my arm forward, and I let out an involuntarily yelp.
Pain seeps through my shoulder, I hurriedly reach up with my free hand and clutch it, "Oh my God, my arm!" Something sharp shoots through my arm, and I swallow hard, trying not to cry, "Ah!"
Mrs. Báringer narrows her eyebrows looking from me to my mom, "What is wrong ... avec la jeune fille?"
My mom rolls her eyes, "Rien, she's dramatic."
"I am not being dramatic, Mom! My arm, it really hurts." I say, through gritted teeth. "I think I'm gonna need to go to the hospital."
Her eyes roll, like she's mad at me that I hurt my arm, and she blinks, "What do you want me to do, Anastasia? I can't take you and I need Andrew here. Go to the bar and see if they have ice or something."
Then she looks back at the wedding planner, shakes her head with an apologetic smile, and motions for her to continue.
For a brief second, I almost wish that she wasn't my mother because according to the few choice words that are floating around my head it wouldn't exactly be respectful of me to say to her. Looking away, I choose to busy myself with trying not to cry at how much my shoulder actually hurts, than to actually get mad at her. Whatever the hell fell on me a few days ago in that fucking closet, really did damage, because it honestly feels like hell.
Andrew shakes his head, and then he's pulling out his phone and handing it to me, "Call Luke, he'll take you."
"What?" I mumble, my voice cracking.
"Luke. He's getting the invites printed, but it can wait. Just call him, tell him I told you to ask." Then he's pressing numbers into the keypad, "It's dialing, here."
I realize that if I don't take the phone I'm gonna have to explain why I don't want to talk to him. Which I can't do. So, I mutter a small thanks, and gently take it from him. He smiles tiredly, and then motions back to my mom, "I should probably ... "
"Yeah," I nod. As soon as he turns around, I press end on the phone. There's no way I'm talking to that asshole. It's been three days since and so far I've been doing a damn good job at ignoring him.
Including, denying the friend request he sent me on Facebook.
Unfortunately, I seriously do need to go to the hospital. So with a sigh, I bring up the texting application and struggle to type out a message with one hand. I end up with a shitty text, that says something along the lines of 'Annie needs to go to hospital. Come'. I delete the sent message from Andrew's history, and I hope that Luke can read beyond my typos.
It's not a minute past before Andrew's phone buzzes in my hand, and I warily look down at the small screen. It annoys me slightly that Andrew has his name saved as 'Son', and I open the message.
Son: what's wrong w her
Sighing, I press the reply button,
Sent: hwer aerm, com,e
Luke doesn't respond, but he doesn't have to because after I've deleted both messages, I look up to see him standing in the doorway, staring at me. I'm embarrassed, to say the least, but I don't show it. Walking forward, I hand Andrew his phone.
"Luke's here, we're gonna go." I say.
"Meet us back at the house, alright? We should done in a few hours." Andrew nods, "You'll be alright, Luke's good at making people feel better."
"I bet," I mumble, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. It's impossible, but I smile, "Thanks, Andrew."
I turn back to face Luke, who's leaning against the door frame looking like ever the bad boy, in a black leather jacket and ripped black jeans. His arms are folded across his chest, and he nods his head motioning for me to come on, before pushing himself up off the wall.
When I near him, I don't stop like he expects me to. I walk right past him, my eyes straight ahead in front of me.
I can hear him sigh, and then he falls in step besides me, "Guess I'm still getting the silent treatment, then?"
You guess right, Hemmings. I hope you didn't think you were gonna accuse me of being what, I don't know, a tease, and then get away with it. Nope, doesn't work like that.
He kicks a rock in front of him, "Silent treatments don't solve problems, Annie. They just create more."
Hm, good one. Where did you get that, Luke? Off of Google?
"I'd rather you yell at me or something, than to ignore me," Luke continues.
Yeah? And I'd rather save my breath.
"Better yet, don't waste your breath," he starts, practically reading my mind and turning so that he's walking backwards in front of me. "You're gonna need it. Because when I finally get my hands on you again, you're gonna be the one begging me to kiss you."
We-, oh.
My stomach does a low dip, and I huff feeling betrayed. He glances down at me, and I force myself to remain impassive, a blush fighting to makes it way onto my cheeks. I won't give him the satisfaction.
After that, he stays quiet; obviously sulking in a failed attempt to make me talk. It takes us only a few more minutes to get to his truck, and I cradle my arm against my chest, while I wait for him to sort through his key ring for the car key. I can feel his presence behind me, tall as ever, and I'm instantly reminded of how only three days ago when I was this close to him, possibly closer, and I was touching him.
The thought makes my toes curl, and I subtly shake my head; willing myself to stop.
Luke sighs, and then with a simple beep from his remote key, his truck flashes to life; the locks shooting up. Shifting forward, I let go off my arm, wincing slightly before leaning forward towards the handle.
"Let me," he murmurs, and then he's reaching around me, his chest against my back, and yanking open the car door, "Here, watch your step."
I don't say thanks, or anything else for that matter, and I single-handedly climb up into the seat. Luke stares at me for a second, his mouth parting as if he's gonna say something, and even though I'm crossing my fingers and praying that he doesn't, I can't help but feel upset when he shakes his head with a sigh; choosing to instead close the door.
From the passenger seat, I watch as he rounds the front of the car, his jaw set and then in a second he's opening his door and sliding in besides me. From the corner of my eye, I watch as he fixes his snap back in the rear-view mirror, before sitting up and buckling his seat belt.
The smell of his cologne fills his car, all citrus and wood like, and I just want to lean over and bury my face in his chest. Luke starts the car, a sight that is for some reason, sexy, and then he flicks play on his CD player before gripping the shift stick, and backing the car up.
His arm goes over the back of my seat, and he leans over looking over his shoulder through the back window. I glance over at him, my eyes immediately landing on his lip ring. When Luke gently bites down on his lip, my stomach does that fucking dip again and I look away. Why is he even backing up like this? There's literally no cars behind us!
When Luke glances at me, an amused smirk on his face, I realize that's he being extra on purpose. Ha, very funny. Not.
Buckling my seat belt, I clutch my arm and focus on the music playing. It's fast-paced, the singer has this amazing sensual tone of voice, and the electric guitar in the background brings it all together. I lean my head against the window, and listen on.
It's a beautiful song, and whomever has written is a genius. From what I can tell, the singer is there to tempt this woman, the object of his desire, into sin. Only, shes more hesitant to engage in this affair, and while the singer shares that he once would have felt the same, he can't help but want her.
Or, something of that sort at least.
It's amazing, and even though I told myself a million times that I wouldn't, I quickly say to Luke, "What is this song?"
Luke glances over at me, surprised and then he looks back at the road, "Why? Do you not like it?"
I nod curtly. The less talking, the better.
"It's 'From Eden', by Hozier," he mumbles, and then shrugs, "But, I guess you wouldn't know."
The way he says it, frustrated and fed up, makes me blink confusingly and I sit up, not thinking before saying, "What does that mean?"
Fingers drum themselves against the leather of the steering wheel and Luke leans back, lowly and calmy stating, "I put it on the mix tape, that you asked for as your birthday present, Annie. But obviously, you never actually cared to listen to it."
His blue eyes darken, and I look away from him. Alright, I guess put that on myself. "I started to," I mumble.
Thankfully, he ignores me. Because after thinking about the meaning of the song again, and the fact that he put it on my mix tape, I don't think I have the heart to say anything else to him.
--
"Oh, I see what's going on here, you've got yourself a sprained shoulder, Ms. Evans." With a half smile on his face, and a gloved hand carefully pressing down onto my bare shoulder the tall man in front of me tilts his head to the side, "All right, darling?"
"No, it hurts," Shying away from his careful scrutiny, I scrunch my face up in pain. In front of me he nods, and grabs a clipboard from the bed besides me; taking a step back.
He's quite young for his age, with large brown eyes and dark hair and he has this sort of British accent, that makes me want to believe everything he's saying. Only, I forget his name, so it's kind of hard to trust a stranger.
There's a name tag clipped onto his jacket pocket, and I tilt my head to the side. It's kind of hard to make out underneath his stethoscope, and maybe I'm not subtle enough because he clears his throat and says, "Dr. Wren Kingston."
I flush and look back up at him, "Sorry, I just didn't remember."
He nods, with a small smile and then says, "Well, Ms. Evans, looks like you've got yourself quite a bloody bad sprain. Fortunately, some ice should ease any pain, swelling and inflammation. All right?"
"Bloody?" I repeat, sitting up and pulling down my sleeve again to glance at it, "It's bleeding?"
He cracks a grin, and from the corner of the room Luke lets out an annoyed sigh, "No, he's emphasizing the fact that it's bad."
I turn to look at him, my face blank. Crossing his arms over his chest, Luke rolls his eyes and goes back to staring down at his phone. Dr. Kingston raises an eyebrow at me.
"He's not my boyfriend." I mumble, "So what about my shoulder?"
Taking a small step back, he reaches up into the top right pocket of his white jacket and produces a pen, "It's nothing to be too worried about. A sprained shoulder is caused by a force on the arm which stretches the shoulder ligaments."
"Explains why it hurts so damn much," I laugh, halfheartedly.
He peeks up at me from a clipboard, laughs, and points his pen at me, "Rest your arm, alright love? No more heavy lifting of ... heavy boxes." Quickly glancing over at Luke, he lifts his head in his direction, "Get him to do it."
I roll my eyes, "Yeah."
"We're gonna get you a sling to help take the weight off the shoulder, and I'm gonna prescribe some anti-inflammatory medicine."
Nodding, I watch as he reaches into his pocket and produces a small paper cup. He shakes it and hands it to me, "For now, some delectable ibuprofen, shall do."
"Yum," I mutter, sarcastically, "pain killers."
With a shrug, he says, "Well as soon as you take those, you're all done. I'll have someone drop your sling back here, for you."
"So, that's all? Just a sling, and these" I mumble, shaking the Dixie cup in my hand.
Dr. Kingston nods, "Well, alright darling, cheers." Then with a smile, he glances over at Luke and nods politely before disappearing out the door.
Clearing my throat, I glance down at the cup and sigh. It's even weirder being just alone with Luke now, rather than in the car and I hop down from the bed, looking over at him. He's already staring at me, and I look away quickly; flushing embarrassed.
I realize that I'm gonna have to break my silence.
"I'm going to get some water," I mumble, and then without waiting for him to say anything else, I hurry out of the room and wander down the hall.
--
A few minutes later, after I've located a water fountain and took my pills, I find myself standing in front of the vending machine debating on whether or not I want to buy just one Hershey chocolate bar for myself, or get an extra one for Luke. Three days ago, before Luke pretty much called me a slut, I wouldn't have had to think twice about it. Matter of fact, I wouldn't have had to think about it at all, because he'd be standing here with me, deciding for himself.
Pushing the thought to the back of my head, I come to terms that if I have enough change, I'll get him one, and then I won't give it to him unless he asks for a piece of mine. That way, I could just casually pretend like I bought an extra one and I didn't want it anymore.
Yeah, that will work. Digging into my pocket, I grab all of the change I have, and then I shove them all into the coin slot without counting any of it. I press the correct buttons, twice, and then I watch as two candy bars fall from the handle.
Whatever.
Change drops through the slot, a quarter bouncing out and clattering to the linoleum floors, and I huff looking down for it. I don't see it anywhere, and I swear I almost give up, but then I spot it and I lean down picking it up, and turning my attention back the vending machine.
Unfortunately, when I stand back up, I end up colliding with another person. Hands shoot out, pushing my shoulders back and I let out a groan through my teeth at the harsh contact against my sprain.
"Shit," I hiss, stumbling back away from them.
And if that's not already bad enough, when they realize what they've done, they hurriedly cup their large hands around my shoulders, attempting to steady me.
"Shit, sorry. I didn't see you," they rush out.
Glancing up into another pair of dark brown eyes, I take in the sight of a olive skinned boy staring wide eyed and nervously down at me. His hair is buzzed on the side, loose waves falling slightly over his forehead and he lowers his head slightly, to meet my gaze, "Hey, you alright?"
Squeezing my eyes shut, I lift my uninjured arm and reach up, angrily peeling his fingers off of my shoulder. I almost have half the mind to bend his fingers all the way back, but instead I shove them away from me, "I would be alright, if you weren't squeezing the life out of my fucking sprained shoulder!"
Dark eyebrows narrow confusingly and then he raises both his hands up in front of his chest, "I didn't know, you aren't wearing a sling."
He also has some sort of accent when he talks, and I huff. What is up with everyone and these damn irritating accents! I start to say something back to him, but I know whatever it is, won't exactly be polite nor appropriate. So, I smile through closed lips and nod curtly, "It's fine."
He lowers his hands, and just as I'm going to step around him, he steps in my path. Brown eyes look carefully down every inch of my face, and then he lets out an amused laugh, "Guess that asshole was right."
"What?" I hiss, annoyed.
With a slight chuckle, he reaches up and scratches his eyebrow before crossing his arms over his chest, "Fucking hell, I owe him ten dollars."
"Alright, whatever. Move." Stepping back around him, I lean down and hurriedly grab my candy bars from the vending machine, collecting my change from the slot.
But before I get a chance to actually leave, the boy behind me lightly tugs on my jacket, forcing me turn around, "What?" I almost shout, fed up, "I don't even know who you ar-"
"I'm sorry, just one more thing," He rushes, cutting me off.
"Is your name, uh," he stops and then looks down at me again, with a slight smirk, "It's uh, it's Anastasia, isn't it?"
I blink at him. I can't lie and say that his familiarity doesn't sort of make me nervous, and I glance behind him down the hallway, just in case I need to make a break for it. Taking a step back, I brace myself and for the first time, I actually take the time to really assess the boy.
He's tall, that's for sure, and even though he looks to be about the same age as me, he's wearing pale green nursing scrubs. Just like with Dr. Kingston, I look for a name tag, but unfortunately there is none, "Do I know you?"
Before he gets a chance to say anything more, someone's calling my name. Glancing behind me, I spot Luke, and I stare up at the stranger once more before stepping around him and hurrying down the hall.
"Who's that?" Luke asks, staring down at me as I reach him.
"I don't know, some weirdo," Shoving the candy bar I bought for him in his hand, I ignore the feeling of his smooth skin against mine, and slip past him, "Come on, let's just go."
Blue eyes glance up over my head, and I watch as his jaw sets before he hurriedly looks down at me and back up again. A look of amused annoyance etches his way onto his face, and he looks down at me, before lightly gripping my wrist, "They have your sling, come on."
I take my hand out of his, and step away from him before heading down the hall.
---
AN - If you're all as smart as I think you are, I'm guessing you pretty much know who the brown haired, brown eyed weirdo was. Finally, right?
Alsooo, how the hell are we already at 1.1M reads? What the heck, this is incredible & I can't thank you all enough!! Thanks for reading & please remember to VOTE and comment.
Tomorrow is New Years Eve, go out and get drunk, kiss someone, dance in the middle of your street, send a nude. I don't know, make the last night of 2015 memorable. Hope you all had a great year, and may a better one be something to look forward to.
Well, that is all. Thanks again for everything, and ILY all ♡
BTW check these songs out and let me know what you thought of the last ones I recommended.
bad - the cab (one of these days i will write a fanfic based off this lmao)
hozier - from eden (mentioned)
hide away - daya (luv dis ... also fanfic inspiring)