‘What are you doing in there?’ Luke strolls into the room and shuts the door behind him. I have some grungy music blasting from my laptop, totally adding to my begrudging mood. I’m holding a marker in my hand and using it as a doodle tool to draw on my purple cast instead of working on my assignments. My hair’s braided to the side, no makeup on, and I’m wearing a tank top and boxer shorts, a real hot mess.
I reach over and turn the music down. ‘Well, I was working on a Calculus assignment, but I started seeing numbers everywhere, so I took a break.’ I lift my cast that’s covered in drawings, some my own, others from Greyson and Seth who have took it upon themselves to turn my arm décor into art. ‘I really do hate math.’
He closes the door behind him and slips off a shoe. It’s late in the evening and from his sporty attire – drawstring shorts, a tank top and running shoes – I’m guessing he’s just gotten back from the gym. ‘Then why did you take Calculus? You know it’s not a requirement for a General Studies major, right?’
‘Yeah, but I had nothing better to take and I like a challenge.’ I recline against the headboard and stretch my legs over the mess of textbooks and assignments, frowning at the Calculus book. ‘It’s not like it’s hard, just not fun.’
He laughs as he kicks off his other shoe. ‘Math never is … although, can I point out that most of your classes are higher course levels then most sophomores take, and they come easy to you, so not only are you smart, but you might want to rethink that General Studies Major and do something else, like Physics or something.’
‘Physics? Really?’ I question with skepticism. ‘That’s what you see me doing?’
He shrugs as he removes his wallet and some spare change out of his pocket and drops them on the nightstand. ‘You’re good at science and math.’
‘You are too, so maybe you should major in it.’ I kneel up on the bed and slip the hoodie off that I was wearing because the bedroom is getting too warm for jackets. ‘And how do you know I’m good at science?’
‘Because I took Chemistry with you,’ Luke replies as I throw the jacket on the bedpost, adding more chaos to the room. Luke and I used to be so neat and orderly but we’ve gotten kind of turned into slobs over the last month, too busy with other things I guess.
‘That was before we were dating, though,’ I say. ‘Were you watching me or something?’
He pauses, then clears his throat several times, confirming my accusation. ‘Maybe, but that’s not how I know you got an A. It was because the Professor posted finals on the door.’
‘Just because I got an A, doesn’t mean I’m smart. I could have cheated.’
‘Yeah, you could of.’ He positions himself in front of the edge of the bed with his hands in his pockets. ‘But you’re smart enough that you don’t have to.’
‘So are you … And stop calling me smart.’ I’m getting uncomfortable with the compliments about my allegedly wonderful mind. In the past there’s only negativity when people brought it up. Crazy. Erratic. Unstable. Disturbed. Psychotic. That’s what I’m used to and it makes it harder to listen to the positive. It occurs to me then that Lana might have been onto something today and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
Not wanting to think about that stuff and how it makes me feel, I aim for a joke. ‘If you keep giving me compliments, I’m going to start glowing.’
His mouth curves to a smile as he chuckles. ‘Oh really? Is that what happens?’
I nod, sitting down and bending my legs so I can rest my arms on my knees. ‘All compliments and no negativity makes Violet a glowing girl.’ I wink at him, all suave.
He laughs even harder, wrapping his arm around his taut stomach, and I kept help but let a smile grace my lips.
Then his elation fades and unexpectedly he’s leaning toward me. ‘It’s good to see you smile,’ he says, grazing his finger across my cheek and letting his fingertips linger at the corner of my lips.
I keep on smiling, but it’s becoming complicated with the feel-goods that he’s giving me and I don’t know how to deal with those except for panic and run. I grow quiet, battling to keep myself calm and not bolt out the door. Try to be different. Try not to be that girl, the one he asked me to be in the truck.
Moving away from me, Luke tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it on the floor, fleetingly veering me away from my thoughts and toward his muscular abs and chest painted with symbols, sketching, and beautiful sayings. ‘You look more muscly lately,’ I admire absentmindedly.
Unbuttoning his jeans, he cocks a brow. ‘Does it turn you on?’
I thrum my finger on my lips and pretend to think about it really hard as he slips off his jeans. ‘That’s a really tough question to answer. I may need to see more to come to an accurate conclusion.’
He chucks his jeans at me and they hit me in the face. I playfully throw them back at him, but he ducks and I end up missing him and knock over an empty soda can on the dresser. He laughs while I flip him the middle finger.
‘I’m more muscly because I’ve been taking care of myself and working out more with Kayden,’ he says and as if proving his point that he is indeed taking better care of himself, he picks up his case that carries his stuff for his diabetes to check his blood sugar level.
‘I know you have been.’ I collect a pen from the bed and lie back down on my stomach, trying not to think about how easy this conversation is. How simple. It’s been so long. ‘It’s good that are.’
After pricking his finger, he wanders to the dresser to get some clean clothes, but pauses and turns to look at me. ‘You should come with me sometime.’
My gaze flicks up from one of my literature papers. ‘To the gym?’ When he nods, I snort a laugh. ‘Yeah, that’s not going to happen. I’m not athletic. At all.’
He grabs a pair of pajama bottoms from the dresser and then flops down on the bed with me. ‘You don’t have to be athletic … Callie comes with Kayden a lot.’
‘Good for Callie.’ I flip the page of my textbook. ‘If I went to the gym, I wouldn’t even know what to do with myself.’
‘It would get you out of the house.’ He slides my books out of the way so he can scoot closer to me then slips his fingers through mine, causing me to drop my pen. ‘I worry about you … you haven’t really left the house since … Well, since you went to the station a couple of weeks ago, nor have you talked about it … and I’m worried.’