CHAPTER NINETEEN!
ONLY YOU THE PLATTERS
IT WAS FORTUNATE that Luke had decided to wake me up when he did. I had hit stop on my alarm, not realizing, in my sleepy and exhausted state, that it had been my last alarm.
Today would be the first day of school—sort of. It was really just a half-day, but we still had to wake early. Which was bullshit.
Droplets of cool water splashed down on my face. At first, I stirred, brows knitted into a frown. More came down, bursting and sliding down my face. Once I realized that I wasn't dreaming—which was an effort, in my foggy state of mind—my eyes flew open.
Luke was leaning over me, angled so that his wet hair, naturally, made my face its victim. A grin spread across his face once he found that I was awake. He had clearly just gotten out of the shower, because the scent of his body wash seemed to roll off of his bare skin like smoke.
"Get away," I groaned, reaching out to push him gently by the cheek. "You're getting me wet."
"That's incest," Luke said, matter-of-factly, jabbing a finger in the air for emphasis.
I released a mixture between a groan and a cry, moving to plant my face into my pillow. It smelled like my new shampoo, though, so, in some odd way, it brightened my mood a bit.
"Come on, we have to get up," Luke said, the smile evident in his voice. "Well, you do—I don't. So ha ha."
My voice was muffled by the pillow when I said, "I'm going to kill you."
"Put that on hold." Luke poked me in the side, earning an instant jerk. "If she says no, then you can kill me."
Initially, his words meant absolutely nothing to me, did not make a shred of sense. Tire had not yet released me of its grip. It was definitely going to take some getting used to, leaving behind one of the greatest summers of my life.
Luke had jerked me back from a wonderful dream. Benny's pretty lips were imprinted on the backs of my eyelids. At least he could be my motivation to get up and going, although it might have been more effective if he had been the one to wake me up.
"Did you hear me?" Luke said, and there was a sudden urgency in his voice, tipped with anxiety.
"Something about killing you," I grumbled.
Luke caught his lower lip between his teeth and draped his body over the back of mine. His burning cheek pressed against the back of my shoulder. His dark, damp hair bled with mine, black on black, although mine was a tangled mess of curls. Luke's weight pressed me further into the bed, but I was used to it, and I felt too tired to complain. Oddly, sometimes it actually felt comfortable, as long as none of his sharp bones—chin or elbows, mostly—dug into my skin.
"I'm really nervous," Luke whispered, his jaw working against my skin. "Like, near anxiety attack nervous."
"For what—?" I broke off with a gasp, for the faintest sliver of true consciousness returned—but it was enough, and I understood.
Usually, I would struggle to wriggle out from under Luke's weight, but now I was driven by pure shock. He laughed as I suddenly twisted, the movement sharp enough to throw him off. He slid off of me, onto the other side of the bed, and I shot to face him with wide eyes.
"Wait—" I nearly screamed. "You're not—!"
"Shh, shut the hell up!" Luke whispered, his eyes flying wide. "She's asleep, in my room, so—if you blow this for me—"
"Wait!" I whisper-yelled. "Does this mean that Benny is going to be my brother? Wait, I didn't think this through—"
Luke let out an exasperated sigh. "Obviously he isn't going to be your brother." Then, in an afterthought, he added, "Well, technically, he would be your brother-in-law, but still. It only depends on what her answer is."
"Suddenly, I am an anarchist."
He let out a small chuckle, before putting on a straight face. Luke's cheeks were glowing pink, and he rested his head upon my pillow, lips pursed. He looked paler then usual, more nervous than I had ever seen him. He was truly afraid.
Softening, I said, "In all seriousness, Luke, you probably have nothing to worry about. Has she ever talked about marriage?"
"Not really." Luke brought up a hand and started to chew at his nail. "That's part of the reason I'm so nervous. I have no idea if this is something she even wants."
"Do you have a ring?"
Luke nodded, glancing past me, as if he could see into his room from here. "I convinced Mom to give me her old ring—the first one, from when she married our sperm-donor. The diamond cut into a rounded heart, you know?"
"Yeah, I know the one."
"Yeah." A sigh pushed past his lips, and he dropped his hand, closed his eyes, and groaned. "Who knew proposing would be so nerve-wracking?"
"Don't be so nervous." Personally, my heart was pounding with the excitement. The wonder and the suspense. "Liz loves you. Everything'll fall into place, one way or another. But you spend every day with this girl. How hard can it be, really?"
One of Luke's eyes, deep blue, popped open. "You have no idea."
"Neither do you," I returned, pointing an accusing finger in his face after I pulled myself into a sitting position. "Not until you try."
Luke watched with one eye as I slipped to the floor, stretched my tired limbs, and turned to my nightstand. After pulling open one drawer, I retracted with a black Sharpie pen. Before Luke could protest, I moved around to the other side of the bed, pressed down on his arm, and marked on his bicep.
He rolled his eyes as, without another word, I went to my bathroom. "Really?"
On his finally-dry arm, in black ink, read two words in my script:
Say yes.
L U K E
point of view.
OKAY. I can do this.
Elizabeth was never quite a fan of public displays of affection. The personal things she wanted to be just that: Personal. Dropping to my knees in the middle of a packed restaurant or announcing it over an intercom were most definitely not options.
During my shower—which had lasted much longer than usual; almost as long as Kayla's—I thought a lot about it. Where I was going to do it, and how, and what I would say. And, quite frankly, I was a nervous wreck.
At least half an hour after Kayla and Benny left for school, Liz trudged downstairs, wearing shorts and a tank top. Her hair was pulled into an extremely messy bun; flyaways stuck out and curled at the nape of her neck. She was stunning.
She found me at the kitchen table, hand clamped around a burning coffee mug for dear life. Liz flashed a smile and asked, "Can I have some?"
I nearly tripped over myself to get to the coffee pot first. If I was really going to do this, I wanted her chances of agreeing to be as high as possible. Liz froze, surprised at my abruptness, before a tiny chuckle swept from her lips.
"Okay?" she murmured, mouth upturned at the edges, as she sat at the table. "What's got you so hyper?"
Putting on a smile I hoped looked natural, I said, "I just love you."
Liz's tiny smile fell. "What did you do? Did you break something of mine?"
Okay, I guess that smile wasn't as natural as I had hoped. "No!" I insisted, accidentally flinging sugar out of the bag. My hand was trembling. "All I said was I love you."
Elizabeth's eyes fell to the hand that dipped a spoon into a bag of sugar. She leaned forward on the table, resting her chin upon her palm. Her expression was unreadable, but she looked almost thoughtful. Adorable baby hairs fell light over her forehead.
"Luke," she said, slowly, "I can see that something is bothering you. Just spill it."
The way she said it, I got the feeling that she suspected something horrible. On the brink of panic, I abandoned her coffee cup; this was as good a time as any, and I needed to get it over with.
It all happened in an instant, it seemed, or maybe my nerves were speeding the time, fogging my brain and sense of time. I moved to meet Liz at the table and sunk to the floor, on one knee, instantly capturing both of her hands in mine.
"I see that look in your eye," I said, voice surprisingly stern, "and no, I did not cheat on you or anything like that. I am nervous, but that's only because—"
My throat closed, choking me up. Elizabeth did not quite seem bothered about the position I was in, did not seem as though it held any significance to her at all.
"Because what?" Elizabeth whispered. "Spit it out."
"I—" A billion thoughts raced through my mind at once, jumbling together and creating ultimate chaos. I needed to be clear-minded before I spoke, but before I could even control one single thought, the question spilled from my lips: "Would you marry me?"
For a moment, Elizabeth froze, as if she had been smacked. Her lips parted, only slightly, and her brows pulled together. "Are you for real?"
"Yes," I breathed, heart hammering against my ribs, so hard that I could feel it behind every inch of my skin. I should not have been so nervous, but here I was. "I'm serious."
Liz's tight expression slackened. A tiny smile turned on her lips, but it lit her dark eyes on fire. She glanced down at my arm, giggled, and said, "Yes."
My heart felt as though it literally skipped a beat—which was probably dangerous. "Yeah, you'll—you'll—"
"Marry you." Elizabeth, still gripping onto my hands, pulled me forward, upward. "Of course I'll marry you, you silly boy. As if there was anything else I'd rather do."
An enormous wave of sweet relief cleansed me, euphoric and final. Rather than standing, like Elizabeth was trying to get me to do, I reached forward, curled a hand around the nape of her neck, and pulled her toward me, pulled until our lips connected.
Elizabeth laughed into the kiss. "Is Kayla the one who wrote on your arm?"
After pulling away, I laughed, loudly. "Oh, yeah. I'll have to thank her for that."
M A K A Y L A
point of view.
COOKOUTS in California, for me, always consisted of several things: S'mores, Mike's Hard Lemonade, and the entire Sandlot Gang.
The sky darkened overhead, the remnants of a gorgeous sunset sinking into the deep blue. A bonfire blazed before us; as usual, the boys and I sat around it. Now, Ivy, Leah, Kit and Mason were included. To my surprise, Brandy had agreed to come; she and Kat were on their way.
For now, Luke and Elizabeth were speaking to my parents. Squints told a scary story and Ham toasted marshmallows, his s'mores business still going on strong. It felt like home.
Then something unexpected happened. Tommy, a few boys to my right, snapped away from Squints' story. His eyes locked on something behind me, at the edge of the back of my house.
"Makayla," Tommy whispered, loud enough for me and probably everyone else to hear. "Look."
Benny was the first to turn around, but I followed right after. I felt him tense just before my searching gaze found Jordan Phillips.
I was so shocked that I couldn't even react. He stood at the edge of the house, hands dug into his pockets, an uncomfortable look on his face. Jordan's darkening hair fell over his eyes, and beneath his eyes were faint bruise-like smudges.
Jordan had, in the last month, spoken to me, but only minimally. Only enough to show that he was not angry with me. Not resentful, just a bit broken; he would never say so, but I could tell, even in the way he typed. He was now like a distant memory; Benny wiped away all of the feelings I had ever had for Jordan, but the absence of those feelings was discomforting.
Clearly, he was not doing as well as I was. It broke my heart for him, even though he had been the one to break up with me. And the fact that he had been right—had obviously been justified in his reasoning to end our relationship—hit me with a slight pang of guilt.
By the way he was standing, it did not seem as though Jordan really wanted to be here. Was not quite willing to join us at the bonfire. But the fact that he had even bothered to show up spoke for itself.
"Be right back," I whispered, dropping a kiss to Benny's temple as I stood. Benny gripped my hand before allowing it to fall away. He watched me go with hard, curious eyes; he was still resentful toward Jordan for breaking my heart, although the reasoning had been in Benny's favor.
Jordan leaned one shoulder against the edge of the house. He was wearing a navy blue long-sleeve, so it was almost hard to tell the fabric apart from his dark jeans. His skin seemed paler than usual, but maybe that was just an effect of the darkness, from the sky and from his outfit.
"Hey," I greeted, voice soft, as I leaned against the wall, just opposite him. "I didn't think you'd come."
Jordan stared down at his boots. "I didn't think I would either."
"So why did you?"
He shrugged, still keeping his eyes low. "You told me you wanted to be friends. Comfortable friends. Maybe I just wanted to tell you that I don't think that's possible anymore."
Despite myself, my heart dropped. "Why?"
"Because," he sighed, "if it wasn't obvious enough, I was in love with you. And I've been in love with you since...since a long time ago. Before you ever moved. Before the first summer even ended."
The words took me back, stole my voice. All I could do was stare, mouth parted in surprise, a subtle wild, hurt look in my eyes. It hurt for the simple fact that I knew he was telling the truth, and I could never return something like that. However strong the affection I had for him was, my heart had always belonged only to Benny. Still, I didn't want to hurt Jordan more than he already was.
"I'm not trying to get you to think about it," Jordan said, kicking at a spot of dirt on the ground. "In fact, I don't want you to think about it at all. I want you to forget all about me, because that would make you happy."
"Jordan," I whispered, shock written all over my face. "Is that honestly what you think? Look—" I pressed a finger beneath his chin and raised his head; he was surprisingly compliant. "I'm sorry. I don't know what else I could say, but you've become such good friends with the boys. Most of them like you now. And you always said how you wished you had real friends, who didn't just want to be around you for your reputation. Behind me? You have that.
"I know I sound stupid," I continued, sounding almost as desperate to change his mind as I felt, "but it's true. I don't know what I can do to really fix the damage between us, but if it means anything to you, I want to fix it. I want you here, and so does everyone else."
Jordan was looking at me in the eye now, and some part of me wondered if he would cry. His eyes were dark and shadowed, tired and now slightly glazed over. I knew that Benny was watching, but I reached forward and put a hand on Jordan's shoulder anyway, hoping that Benny would know the gesture was only friendly.
"If I forgot about you," I said, voice soft, "it would tear me up inside. It would make me the furthest thing from happy. You're a big part of my life now, and I want you to stay in it. Can you do that for me?"
To my surprise, the tiniest of smiles flitted across Jordan's lips. "Wow. Your speeches never fail to amaze me—I'll give you that. You sound like someone in a movie."
Returning the smile, hand falling away, I shrugged, "It's the writer in me."
Jordan caught his lower lip between his teeth, glanced at the scene behind me, and let out a soft sigh. "Okay."
"Okay, you're going to stop being a ghost and be my friend again?"
He laughed then, a real laugh, and instantly looked surprised at himself, as if he hadn't actually laughed in a while. After a thoughtful moment, he said, "Yeah. I think it would do me some good."
"So do I," I grinned, moving to stand beside him. Benny was, as I had suspected, turned to watch us; he sent me a small, encouraging nod, and I slipped my arm through Jordan's. "Let's go get a s'more, then."
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I KNOW. THIS IS UTTERLY HORRIBLE.
so, i really procrastinated with this, and i wasn't even near finished this morning and afternoon. i've been writing all morning, during class (when i shouldn't have been) and everything. i feel really bad, because this was supposed to be an important chapter, and i screwed it up with horrible rushed writing. i'll probably go through it later and make some changes. until then, i'm really sorry!
also, the title (song) for this chapter was originally going to be "put your head on my shoulder" by paul anka, but it was way too long, lmao. i love "only you" though.
and wattpad is being fucking stupid. i published this chapter hours ago, and it isn't showing up in the notifications (i have it in my library, so i always get the notif when i update). sorry!
stay gold
x kayla
03.15.18