I've seen plenty of injuries. Some my own, some belonging to people I love. And I've seen my mother have to treat injuries (some bad, some worse) countless times. But still, something about seeing the blood drip from the cut by Luke's eye makes my stomach turn.
Luke was the clear winner of the fight, but he hasn't come out completely unscathed. The cuts and bruises that were on his knuckles, even before tonight, have split back open and his shirt is covered in blood, most of it belonging to someone else.
I can't tell if that's a bad or good thing.
While we drove, every time I closed my eyes, I couldn't get the sound of bones snapping at the sickening crunch of Luke's fist colliding with Aaron's nose out of my head
The penthouse Luke lives in is just as pristine and lavish as I remember - a stark contrast to the bloodstained boy in front of me, dressed in all black and recently having almost beat a man to death.
For me.
Luke pulls off his top, wincing with the motion and balls up the dark fabric, attempting to press it to the cut near his eyebrow and swearing at what's probably a stinging sensation.
"Fuck," he hisses, pulling away from the cut harshly. "Fucking rings. I hate them."
"Let me help," I offer, following him into the large and bright kitchen.
"No, it's fine." He stubbornly refuses, standing in the middle of the kitchen, shirtless, and gingerly trying to press the shirt to his temple. I can only imagine the cuts and bruises and wounds that Aaron has to tend to. The thought alone makes me shudder.
"Luke," I start, taking the shirt from his hands. I've learned enough from my mother to know what to do in a situation like this.
I turn on the sink; letting the black shirt run under it and watching Aaron's blood mix with the cold water before flowing down the porcelain basin. Luke slips on another black shirt as I wring the old one in my hands, getting rid of the excess water before sitting on the countertop.
"Come here," I mutter and Luke hesitates for a moment before separating my thighs and taking his place between them. It's an incredibly intimate position, but something about sitting atop kitchen counter with Luke standing between my legs feels comfortable - nice, even.
But still, my breathing hitches and I blink before tenderly pressing the balled-up, wet t-shirt against the 2-inch cut running my his temple, still bleeding.
Luke's hand rests beside me, leaning down so I can easily reach him, but when I increase the pressure a little bit to stop the bleeding, he grabs onto the fabric of my dress.
"Shit," he swears, his bloodied hands gripping onto my waist as an outlet for the pain, bending his head down and burying it into my neck, without thought.
His hold onto my waist as well as his face buried by my neck nearly makes me gasp, but I hold the wet t-shirt there for maybe 20 seconds, hoping the pressure will stop the bleeding. It's not deep enough to need stitches, but it sure is deep enough to hurt. Aaron's ring must have caught onto Luke's temple while they were fighting.
"Sorry," Luke raises his head back up and releases his tense grip on my waist and mutters a quick apology. The blood on his hands is now on me, his hands having bunched up the fabric and marking the pale pink cloth of my new dress.
"Do you have any type of ointment, or antibiotic cream?" I ask softly, looking up at him from our position.
"Yeah, yeah, there's Neosporin in the cabinet," he lazily points to it beside my leg, so familiar to him. Does he have to bandage wounds often?
I reach for the ointment and grab a box of band-aids, delicately rubbing the gel on his cut before pressing a bandage to it. His eyes are closed the entire time and I can't help but admire him from this stance, the slight stubble on his jaw and the small hint of a dimple beside his mouth.
He opens his eyes, bloodshot from drinking or smoking or doing who knows what earlier in the night even though he's sobered up now, and I quickly look down, shifting my body on the counter and holding his hands in mine.
"Now, these," I sigh, smiling remorsefully and observing the dark bruises that line his first row of knuckles as well as the raw-looking cuts that have split open again.
"Thank you, for doing that, for me," I say, looking down and trying to focus on his bloodied hands. He doesn't respond, only nods in assent and does his best to give a small smile, what feels like the first I've ever seen from him.
I carefully dab at each cut, and he stiffens his jaw, trying not to wince from the pain. My mind quickly flashes back to Luke's fist clashing with Aaron's watch as Aaron tried to defend himself, unsuccessfully.
It does nothing but make shivers run down my spine, all too aware of the dark and potentially dangerous man standing between my legs and letting me take care of him.
"How do you know to do all this?" Luke asks, looking down at me as I put Neosporin over each cut.
"My mom," I pause, holding my breath as I twist the cap of the Neosporin tube back on, "taught me," I say softly, hoping he doesn't ask any more questions about my family. I attempt to put a bandaid on each cut, but I know that with the smallest motion, it'll come off. He'll need knuckle band-aids, but this is all I have for now.
"What about your father?" he asks, and I close my eyes slowly before opening them up.
"I'm sorry, I don't...I don't really feel like talking about that."
There's only silence between us, and I wish, I wish with everything in me that I could have the heart to tell him. But it feels too soon, and talking about my father can only have a negative outcome. It's better to just sweep it under the table and forget, forget, forget.
Before I know it, a stray tear is dripping from the side of my eye and I'm quickly about to wipe it away, foolishly hoping that it will go unnoticed.
But Luke catches my hand when I bring it up, his large hands calloused and rough against my comparitively small ones.
Slowly, he brings my own hands to my face, silently wiping away the tear and looking into my eyes, making my mind race and my pulse quicken. His face is close, so close to mine and I can feel time slowing and stopping then starting back again as he leans closer, bending down with his body between my legs. There's an unspoken agreement, both of us giving in to something crazy that we never expected to happen and before I know it, his lips are on mine and my thoughts are going every which way, unable to stay in one place, electrified and set off just by one kiss.
My breathing hitches with his lips on mine, and he deepens the kiss, the tension escalating exponentially, suddenly nothing mattering anymore. In a second, his hands are on my sides, gripping harshly and making my mouth part in a gasp that allows his tongue to slip through the kiss hungrily, both of us insane. He's gripping at my waist, around my ribs, up my thighs, in almost a bruising, claiming way that makes my head spin and my mind dizzy, bunching up my dress so that it gathers around my thighs.
I don't how to even begin to explain how I could have purposely setting foot on a path that I knew was so dangerous. But with Luke, I don't know how to explain anything. Kissing him is like speeding down an open stretch of highway, no limits, no top end, just a high velocity rush to insanity as his lips crash against mine.
I've never been like this with anyone before - so close, so needy, so insane. And the thought scares me. When did I go from being frightened by Luke to having his hands gripping my waist and his lips on mine as he stands between my legs?
"Luke," I whimper, desperately willing my hands to press against his chest, breaking the kiss.
"We have to stop." His grip on the fabric of my dress by my waist loosens and he pulls away, resting his hand on the back of his neck and running his hand through his hair, once in what is probably confusion or frustration. Or maybe just his way of trying to get his thoughts together.
It feels like I've been shocked in ice water and I slide off the counter, straightening my dress out, my hands going over the blood stains that he left from merely seconds ago, hands roaming everywhere at once, desperately pulling our bodies closer.
"I'm sorry. I'll - I'll take the subway," I say, resisting the urge to run my fingers over my bottom lip, remembering the ghost of the kiss that was just there moments before.
"No, I'll drive you."
"Thank you, for everything. But, I think it's best if I go back by myself." I need some time to think, anyway. I start to walk away, about to rush out of the kitchen, but he closes his hand around my wrist, pulling me back to him.
"Mia," he starts, about to fight it, but then stops his train of thought. "I'll get the driver to pick you up. It's late and I don't like the idea of you taking the subway alone, alright?"
I don't know how to respond, only thanking him.
Luke makes a call and then I wait around for a while - 10 minutes feeling like an hour when I'm sitting on the expensive couch of Luke, who nearly beat a man to death for me. Luke, who I just kissed.
"The driver's here," he says, standing in the frame of the door, his arms crossed and his body stiff. "I'll walk you down."
We say nothing in the hallway. It's silent in the elevator. No sound comes from either of us when we walk outside from the lobby
The silence is only broken when he goes to talk to the driver. "Take her back to Morningside," Luke says, leaning beside the driver's window of the sleek black car
We haven't said anything about the kiss, silence heavy over us like a dead weight.
But then he surprises me, maybe both of us. Leaning down from his height above me, Luke lightly rests his hand on my waist and presses his lips against my forehead, lingering for a second before pulling away, making my heart race just like before.
"Be careful."
I want to say the same to him.
Luke drops his hand from me and then opens up the door to the car, waiting until I'm inside before closing it, standing on the sidewalk firmly as we drive away.
It's late when I get back and everyone is either gone for the night or asleep. The only light in the dorm is coming from the bathroom, as I play over every second of what happened, trying to wash out the bloodstain on my dress.
It won't come out.
***
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(update: the next chapter will be up on friday)
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