The Destiny Of Violet And Luke Part 21

"I guess I did," I say submissively. "You should be proud of yourself."

Her lips turn downward. "I'm not, though."

I'm taken back. "I thought you liked winning." I press on the brakes to slow down for a stoplight.

"I do for the most part," she tells me with this flirty look in her eyes that makes me wonder how she's managed to stay single for so long. Sure she may try to stay away from people, but it's nearly impossible not to be drawn to her. "But I was kind of hoping you'd keep going and bring that intense look out."

My c.o.c.k starts to harden inside my jeans. I'm out of my element, but I dig my dusty flirting skills out, the ones I used when I first hooked up with girls.

"It's going to take a whole lot more than a few teasing remarks to get that look to come out of me," I say, turning my head toward her and flashing her a c.o.c.ky grin. "A lot, lot more."

She sucks her lip up between her teeth, suppressing a laugh. "Okay." She drums her finger on her lip like she's thinking deeply and then her eyes light up with an idea. She scoots across the seat and I wait in antic.i.p.ation for whatever she's going to do to win this thing she started.

She kneels up, sweeping her hair to the side, her chest at my eye level. "Light's green," she says with an arrogant smile.

I drive forward, trying to pay attention to the road, but as she leans her body toward mine I get distracted by her body heat. Then she slants her face toward my shoulder and her hair falls against my cheek. Just that alone makes my fingers tighten on the wheel. I hear the intakes of her breath as she leans down and plants a kiss on my neck. It's soft, hardly a kiss, yet it make a sweltering need blast through my body.

"Violet, I..." I trail off as she starts sucking on my neck, tracing her tongue on my skin as her fingers slide across the front of my chest. I work to keep my eyes open, on the road, at the traffic in front of me, to the side of me, but then her fingers drift downward and encounter my d.i.c.k and I'm seriously about lose it. "G.o.d d.a.m.n it," I curse and she starts to retreat. I swerve the truck to the side as she pulls back, her eyes wide as she peers over at the houses beside the curb where we're parked.

"What are you doing?" she asks, looking back at me, her hair falling down across her heaving chest.

I shove the gearshift in park and reach for her waist. "All right, you win." It's all I say and then I lean over, cup the back of her head, and kiss her. So much for waiting until the end of the date.

She laughs against my lips and I shake my head, unable to pull my mouth back from hers. I keep kissing her until the sky completely blackens, until she ends up straddling my lap. I kiss her like she's the only girl I've kissed before and she sort of is, at least with any meaning behind it. I don't let my hands wander anywhere under her clothes, only over because I know once I cross that line, the date will be over. I won't be able to stop myself... Jesus I don't want to stop myself. But eventually, after my lips are numb, and the heat of her body blends with mine, we pull back.

Her arms are fastened around my neck and she peers into my eyes. She looks strangely alive at the moment and I feel strangely happy that I'm the one who put the look there.

"So where are you taking us on our date?" she asks with hilarity in her voice like the word "date" is the funniest word she's ever said.

"It's a surprise." I can't help but grin when she frowns in disappointment.

"Fine, but just for future reference, I don't like surprises." She climbs off my lap and sits down beside me in the middle of the bench seat.

She leans into me as I merge back onto the road, my heart constricting in my chest. I drive down the road lost in my thoughts on how she referred to our future and how much I actually liked it.

Violet We pick up fast food from this little dive place at the edge of the town that has the best burger, then Luke drives up to the mountains and parks his truck. At first I think he brought us here because he wants to make out more, which seems like a wonderful idea to me, especially since making out in the truck was more thrilling than standing on the edge of the cliff, debating how easy it'd be to tip forward and fall to the jagged rocks below. But then he tells me he wants to hike up a little ways, so I follow him out into the darkness, carrying our take-out bag, while he carries a flashlight from the glove box.

"You know, if I would've known you were taking me on a hike, I wouldn't have worn a dress," I say, thankful I decided against the heels and opted for my boots.

His boots scuff against the dirt as he sweeps the flashlight across the crooked path in front of us, peering over his shoulder at me. "Personally, I like the dress."

"I'm sure you do," I mutter with a smile. I'd put the dress on because I knew he'd like it. If that's one thing I'm good it at, it's knowing what guys like.

He smiles over his shoulder and reaches back to take my hand. I stumble forward as he hauls me up to him, then we hike together up the path. It's late, the sky charcoal dusted with glittering stars. The moon is full and the air chilly, making me wish I'd brought my jacket. We walk silently to the top of the hill where the view of spreads out in front of us. I can see the highway and the city to my side, the lights on the houses making them seem so far away I feel like I'm flying. If I didn't know any better, I would think he'd brought me here on purpose, because he knew the height and drop-off in front of us would make me feel comfortable and at peace.

Luke lets go of my hand and situates himself on the rock, positioning the flashlight on the ground so it's spotlighting the sky. I drop down beside him, set the fast-food bag down between us, and stretch my legs out, crossing them at the ankles.

"So is this what a normal first date goes like?" I ask, opening the bag.

He rests back on his hands, staring out at the view. "Honestly, probably not. Most people probably go to the movies or to dinner, but this seemed more fitting for us."

I grab a fry from out of the bag and plop it into my mouth. "Why? Because we're weird and dark and out of the ordinary?"

He sits up and rummages through the bag, taking out a handful of fries. "Yeah, pretty much."

I grab my burger out of the bag and unwrap it. "But what makes you so weird and dark and out of the ordinary, Luke Price?"

He flips the leather band on his wrist with his finger. "Lots of stuff."

I take a cup of ranch out of the bag and peel the top off. "Why do you always wear that band around your wrist?"

He raises his arm up in front of him, studying it in the light. "Because my sister gave it to me right before she died."

I start choking on my fry. My nostrils burn as ranch gets in them. "She died?" I cough with my hands pressed to my chest.

He twists his head in my direction. It's dark so I can't see anything but the outline of his face and his eyes look like two black holes, but I can picture the intensity in them. "She threw herself off a roof when I was twelve."

I have a heartbreaking epiphany. "That's why you were so worried about me when you saw me jump out the window."

He bobs his head up and down, nodding. "That and the fact that you look so detached all the time," he says and I suck in a startled breath as I realize just how much he's seen of me and how we have one more thing in common. Death of a loved one. He instantly reaches over and his fingers encircle my wrist. "Violet, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so blunt... I don't even know why I said it."

"It's okay." I exhale, telling myself that I'm not going to go down that road tonight. That I'm going to keep it together, no matter what it takes. "I'm sorry. I'm seriously overacting." In the snap of a finger, I manage to sound calm.

His fingers dig into my wrist, right above my racing pulse. "No, you're not." It's like he understands me, even though he hardly knows anything about me.

I nod my head. "Okay, but I'm over it. I promise."

He holds on to me a little longer and then releases me. I eat my burger and he eats his chicken sandwich in silence and it's the most comfortable silence I've ever lived in. After we're done, we ball up our garbage and pile it in the bag. Then he moves it aside so we can scoot closer, our shoulders touching.

"What was your life like before you met me?" I ask, relaxing back on my palms.

He tilts his head to the side, looking at me. "A lot less complicated," he admits.

"Is that a good or a bad thing?"

"It's a complicated thing," he says and then sighs heavily. "I had this system before you came along and it was working for me, but now that system is gone... With you... you make me feel like I'm falling into this out of control world full of craziness."

I frown. "You make me sound so insane."

"No, it's not like that." He rakes his hand through his hair, letting out a grunting exhale as he sits up. "G.o.d, this is coming out sounding so weird."

"That's okay," I tell him. "Weird is okay with me and there's no one else around."

I feel him smile through the dark. "See it's things like that that make me just want to stay here with you. Because whatever I say never fazes you."

"We could just sit here in the dark," I say, trying not to think about the many times I sat in the dark by myself. "The dark can be comfortable."

"Yeah, we could do that..." He trails off and I feel the air temperature rise as he leans into me. "Do you want to do that? Just sit in the dark with me."

"Maybe..." I trail off as his lips connect with mine. He tastes different than usual, less smoky and tasting of tequila; instead he tastes salty from the French fries. I can taste the pa.s.sion of the kiss and heat pools in my stomach. I clutch his shoulders as he pushes his weight into me and forces me down on my back. My head brushes the ground below and dirt gets in my hair as our legs tangle together and he barely supports his weight above me.

He kisses me slowly this time, more deliberately than he usually does. It's like he's calculating each movement, each taste, each breath as his hands knot through my hair. He gently tips my head back so his tongue can explore my mouth more thoroughly, gradually, slowly. Jesus, he's driving my body mad. I can't think straight, my nails jabbing into his shoulder blades, his lower back, his sides, anything that I can get a hold of as my body becomes more and more impatient.

Then he's pulling away again, stroking my cheek with his finger, his other hand playing with my hair. "This is nice."

"You're starting to sound like a softy," I say, breathless.

"Didn't you accuse me of being a softy once?" He continues to play with my hair.

"I did, but I didn't really mean it."

"Well, maybe you were right all along."

"Maybe I was."

He continues to comb his fingers through my hair, his body positioned over me, and I get so comfortable I almost fall asleep in his arms, right there up on a rock. Then he lifts his weight off me and the cold seeps into my body, waking me right back up. He laces his fingers through mine as he pulls me to his feet with him.

"Where we going now?" I ask, dusting the dirt off the back of my leg.

He bends down and grabs the garbage. "How about home?"

Home. Such a strange word, since nowhere has ever really felt like home to me. "Yeah, home sounds nice."

The rest of the drive home we talk about mundane things, like what his favorite food is: tacos, which I already kind of figured out, since it's his hangover food and he likes to drink. I tell him what mine is: chocolate chip cookies, the kind my mom used to make. It surprises me that I talk to him about my mom, just as much as it surprises him. Our entire conversation is so boring and normal, but the thing is I actually like it and I start to wonder if I could actually live a boring, normal, non-adrenaline-junkie life.

When he parks the truck at our apartment complex, it's still early, but Luke says we can continue our date in the house. Then he starts kissing me in the truck before we can even get out. Our mouths and hands explore each other's body until it gets too hot and then we get out and head inside. It's the perfect date, and I'm seriously reconsidering my whole theory on life, when I spot a guy sitting at the bottom of the steps that lead up to our apartment.

"You have got to be kidding me." I let go of Luke's hand as I realize who the guy is. I leave a shocked Luke behind as I storm over to the steps.

Stan Walice looks up from his notebook, looking nervous and tense. "Please just calm down. I just want to talk to you for a minute."

"Do I need to get a restraining order?" I ask as I arrive at the foot of the stairway.

He rises to his feet and tucks his notebook and pen into his front pocket. He's wearing wrinkled gray pants, old sneakers, and a red polo shirt, along with square-framed gla.s.ses. "Calm down. I just want to ask you some questions." His gla.s.ses start to slip down the brim of his nose and he pushes them up with his finger.

"I'm pretty sure I made it clear I'm not going to do that," I say as Luke steps up beside me.

"Who the f.u.c.k is this?" Luke says as his hand touches the small of my back, slightly calming me, but my insides still burn.

Stan's eyes dart to him, I'm sure comparing his out-of-shape body to Luke's solid, tattooed body. "I just want to ask her a few questions about her parents."

"And I already told you to go f.u.c.k yourself," I say, not with anger but with a silent plea in my voice. "Seriously, what is with reporters and being obsessed and determined to hara.s.s people?"

"I really need this story," Stan says, raking his fingers through his hair. "My job's on the line."

"She says she doesn't want to talk to you," Luke steps forward, positioning himself in front of me, protecting me. "So take the hint and f.u.c.king get the h.e.l.l out of here before I have to beat your a.s.s," Luke says and then he reaches back and grabs hold of my hand. As much as I would love to see him beat Stan's a.s.s, I also remember that unlike when he fought with Preston and the guys at the strip club, there will probably be consequences this time, so I squeeze his hand and hold on to him.

Stan shakes his head, panic flooding his eyes as he skitters to the side so I can see him. "Look, I know I've probably been going about this wrong, but I really need this story or the paper's going to let me go. I need something really good."

"Go find a story that's easier to get, then," I tell him, inching forward so I'm standing beside Luke. "Don't chase me down when I don't want to talk about my past."

"The easy ones are the ones no one wants to hear," he says. "Girl who finds her parents murdered and stays in that house for twenty-four hours." He moves his hand across the air, like some reporter in an old movie, making a headline. "Now that's a story. I can only imagine the things in your head... the stuff you saw... And if people knew about it, maybe it'd help finally catch the killers."

Luke's body goes rigid as flames flash through my body. He just told Luke my secret, the one that everyone wants to run away from once they know. Out of nowhere, I lunge for Stan. Luke's hands slips from mine as I raise my fist, preparing to crash it into Stan's face. I haven't felt this much fury in a long time and usually I'd find another way to deal with it, but right now all I want to do is. .h.i.t Stan. Ram my fist into him. Watch his nose bleed. Watch him hurt like I know I'm going to hurt in just a few minutes.

Somehow, Luke manages to get his arms around my waist and he holds me back before I actually make contact.

"Let me go!" I protest, squirming. "I'm going to kick his a.s.s."

"No, you're not going to." He hugs me tighter as I struggle to get air into my lungs. I need to get away from him-need to breathe. I need to run, beat Stan, do anything at all beside feel what's p.r.i.c.kling up inside me. My parents. Luke knows. I'm f.u.c.ked up. He knows now what lies beneath my skin of steel. He's not going to want to be with me anymore.

I push against him wriggling in his arms as he nearly crushes me against his chest. "Just breathe," he whispers in my ear, smoothing his hand on the back of my head.

I swear to G.o.d it's like he knows what's going on inside my body, like he's in tune with it. "I can't," I choke. "I hate him."

"Just try."

I shut my eyes and block out everything else besides getting air into my lungs. I can hear his heart beating steadily, and I listen to it as I try to get my own to match it.

"Get the h.e.l.l out of here," Luke growls at Stan, his chest rumbling.

"I've been trying really hard to talk to her," Stan says. "If she just would, then we could get this over with."

"If you don't walk away, I'm going to let her go and beat your a.s.s myself," Luke says calmly. "So take the opportunity to walk away now."

"You can't threaten me," Stan says. "I'll call the cops."

"Does it look like I give a s.h.i.t about the cops?" Luke replies. "Now get the h.e.l.l away from her." He enunciates each word to get his point across. Stan mutters something about taking his card and Luke adds, "If you try to contact her again, you won't be walking away."

Moments go by, it feels like days, before either of us move or speak again. I'm the first one to pull away, and he releases me, giving me s.p.a.ce. Luke watches me as I search around the yard for something that will make it easier to deal with what just happened, but ultimately my gaze travels back to Luke.

"So now you know," I say and blow out a loud, defeated breath. I search for the disgust in Luke's eyes, the look everyone has when they find out, but his eyes look black against the night, the porch lights glaring behind him.

The longer the silence goes on the more I feel like I'm going to cry. Tears sting at my eyes as I battle not to let them out, wanting to be that tough girl again, the one that doesn't give a s.h.i.t. I need her. She makes everything okay, even when it's not.

"I didn't know reporters were like that," Luke finally says quietly as he wraps his fingers around my arm. "He seems crazy and intense."

"Unfortunately a lot of them are intense," I reply, biting on my fingernails, desperately wishing I could read what he was thinking. "But I've never met one so obsessed like that... he's been calling me for weeks and he showed up at my work."

His eyes widen. "Why didn't you say anything?" he asks and I don't even bother to answer. "You should have said something."

"Why? So I could tell you my sad story and you could look at me like you are right now."

"You can't even see my face so you can't see how I look."

"I know the look, though. It's the one everyone has when they hear about me. The girl who found her parents dead and then sat in the house with their bodies for a day. The f.u.c.ked-up girl that scares the s.h.i.t out of people." If he wasn't planning on ditching me before, I'm sure he is now.