Текст книги "The Destiny of Violet and Luke"
Автор книги: Jessica Sorensen
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
Her fingers wrap around my arm and she tugs herself to her feet. When she gets her balance, I slip my arm around her lower back and settle my hand on her side. I feel her muscles constrict, but her face remains blank. Then she leans her weight on me, her hair brushing my cheek, and we walk out of the classroom.
We don’t talk as we head down the crowded hallway, lazily winding through people. At first I think our silence is because I can’t think of anything to say, but then it starts to become some sort of challenge over who can be the most stubborn, at least to me it is. If I talk first, I lose. If she does, then she loses.
We push out the door and cross the quad toward the sidewalk. It’s the end of April, the sun is shining, and the air is a little chilly, but tolerable even without a jacket. Only a few more weeks and the semester will be over. Then everyone will return home. I’m trying to find a way out of it, though. The idea of going back and living with my mother is fucking unbearable. And my dad… he’s preoccupied with other things at the moment, like his wedding. Besides, I’ve seen him maybe eight times since he walked out on my mom and me and half of those have been this year. The idea of asking to live with him aggravates me because I don’t want to need anything from him. I want to be on my own here in Laramie. I could get a job now that football isn’t going, but I fucking have the worst people skills and I tend to make people skittish, which makes getting a job really hard. Plus, I’d have to get an apartment unless I take summer classes. I need a little break from school, but I also need a roommate to afford living anywhere and Kayden’s going to be gone all summer with Callie. I don’t have much in the line of friends besides the guys I play football with and I really don’t want to live with any of them. I can barely stand living with Kayden and he’s been my best friend since we were kids. I could go gamble a little bit, take some risks, see if I can get a bigger cash flow, but ever since I lost a big hand during a game back in March, I haven’t had enough to ante up for a game worth playing. Not unless I want to throw down all my cash, which I sort of want to do because I miss owning the game, cheating my way to the top. It’s what I’m good at, at least most of the time, that is unless I lose the card I’m hiding like I did during the game in March.
The rest of the journey with Violet is interesting. She keeps glancing at me with arrogance and sometimes intrigue. It feels like she wants to say something, yet she never does, and the more she does it the more insane it drives me. When we get on the elevator at her dorm and the doors shut, Violet clears her throat and I think she’s finally going to speak. She peeks at me from the corner of her eye and I tilt my head to the side, waiting for her to utter the first word. But instead she hits me with that arrogant look like she did in class and I’m thrown off by her cocky attitude again. I almost break down and ask her what the hell that look is about. Lose our silent battle, just like that. Let her win. Let her have that kind of power over me. She’s got me all riled up and I’m cursing myself for not taking more shots before I left my room this morning.
For a brief second, I seriously contemplate pushing the emergency button and stopping the elevator, so I can push her back against the wall and kiss her fiercely before pulling away and leaving her. Regain a little of my control and power over the situation.
But as the elevator continues up and my arms stay at my side, I realize that I can’t go through with it and honestly I have no idea why. She’s messing with my head and I don’t know what else to do besides stare at my reflection in the shiny steel doors for the rest of the elevator ride. When the doors open, I let out a breath of relief, glad we’re coming to the end of this strange, silent journey. As we approach Violet’s dorm room toward the end of the hall, I spot Kayden and Callie standing in front of the door. They’re smiling as they talk to each other and they make it look so easy, so natural, like it’s as simple as breathing. But even breathing is difficult for me sometimes.
Callie says something and Kayden laughs, but when he sees me walking up the hallway with Violet his expression fills with inquisitiveness.
“What’s up?” he asks as we walk up to them. He glances from Violet to me, then his eyebrows arch, his eyes widening a little.
Callie steps out of the way as Violet moves out of my arm and drags her foot as she moves up to the door. “Are you okay?” Callie asks, looking down at Violet’s ankle.
“Yeah,” Violet answers with indifference as she punches in the code to their room with her finger. The lock beeps and she shoves the door open, tossing her book aside as she starts to shut the door behind her. I’m about to call our stubborn challenge a tie, when she pauses with the door still open a crack, her eyes sparkling with life for the very first time, and says, “Thanks, Mr. Stoically Aloof.”
“You’re welcome, Violet with no last name,” I tell her and then she shuts the door.
Callie and Kayden instantly look at me and I work to keep a smile off my face.
“What the hell was that about?” Kayden asks, slipping his arm around Callie’s shoulder. She’s a tiny little thing and he has to lean down a little to reach her.
I shrug, not wanting to get into it. “She hurt her foot and I helped her back to her room.”
Callie gives me a wary look. “How’d she hurt it?”
I shrug again. “I’m not sure.”
One of the things I like about both of them is that they respect privacy and so they don’t press.
“Where are you headed?” Kayden asks me, pulling Callie in to give her a kiss on the top of her head. “Back to the dorm?”
I start to back toward the elevators, stuffing my hands into my pockets. “I was thinking about hitting the gym. It’s been a while. You want to come with me?”
Kayden nods. “Yeah, I’m down.” He glances at Callie. “You want to come? I’ll help you with your kickboxing skills.” He winks at her and she rolls her eyes, smiling.
“Whatever. I totally kicked your ass last time,” she says, reaching for the key code on the door. “I can’t anyway. I have to study for my biology final.”
Kayden looks disappointed and I look away as he leans in to kiss her. As much as I’m happy for them, I sometimes miss my best friend not being whipped. I start to head toward the elevators to wait for him there when Callie calls out my name.
“Wait a minute, Luke,” she says and I slowly turn around.
She’s walking toward me with Kayden at her heels. When she reaches me, she snags my arm and hauls me past the elevator while Kayden waits behind, like he knows she wants to talk to me alone.
“How are you doing?” She tucks some strands of her brown hair behind her ear, seeming uneasy. “With the stuff with your sister, I mean.”
I swallow hard. “I’m doing okay.” It’s always been hard dealing with the fact that my sister killed herself when she was sixteen, but a month ago I found out that Caleb Miller, some douche Amy used to go to school with, and who used to be friends with Callie’s brother, raped her during a party a few months before she threw herself off the roof of an apartment complex. I guess the police found some journals written by Caleb about what he’d done, but Callie was the one who told me. Although she didn’t flat out say it, I think Caleb might have done something similar to her.
When she first told me, it took me a while to process what it meant—that maybe Amy killed herself because of it. It’s frustrating to feel so much rage inside me every time I think about it. Caleb’s lucky he vanished, otherwise I might have tracked him down and beat the shit out of him, like Kayden did once. Or maybe I’m the lucky one, because sometimes when I get going, when I feel that much heat and tightness in my chest, I have a really hard time not swinging.
“Are you sure?” She touches my arm, then quickly pulls away. She’s a sweet girl, but sometimes she’s a little skittish. “Because I’m here if you ever want to talk. I know it’s hard, especially since Caleb never got caught… he’s just out there living his life…” Her eyes well up, but she quickly sucks the tears back.
I force a smile. “I’m not much of a talker, but thanks for the offer.” I learned at a young age that trying to talk about what was bothering me was pointless. I once told my mom I didn’t like that she was doing drugs and she only did more. I told my dad once during his yearly phone call that I hated my life and he told me that a lot of people do. When I found out about Amy’s death, I went on a silent streak for about a week because it seemed like if I said anything to anyone they’d tell me to suck it up. I found serenity in the quiet and I seriously wish I’d never spoken again, at least about anything important, but my mom wouldn’t let me mourn so easily and wanted to talk. About Amy.
“Neither am I,” Callie says. “But sometimes it does help.”
“Thanks, but I’m good for now.”
She smiles and hers is real, not forced like mine. “How’s your mom doing with all this?”
I internally cringe. My mom showed very little reaction when she found out and I’m not the least bit surprised. She barely paid attention to Amy while she was alive and after she died it was like she’d never existed. She threw all her stuff away days after it happened, saying horrible things about Amy choosing to leave us in the most monotone voice. She did sing a song at Amy’s funeral, but the lyrics were crammed with madness. Not too many people heard it, though, since hardly anyone came to the funeral and those that did blamed the insanity on my mother’s mourning.
When I told my dad about Amy, during our yearly phone call, he started to cry. It pissed me off. How dare he cry when he wasn’t around to help and maybe some of this stuff could have been avoided. He’d abandoned us in that house with my mom and her craziness, letting his two kids get sucked right along into it.
“My mom’s fine,” I lie to Callie, inching around her to head toward the elevators. It’s nice of her to care, but it doesn’t make it easy for me to talk about my mother.
Callie seems wary by my offish answer, but drops it and steps out of the way so I can scoot by. Kayden’s waiting for me at the elevator and when I approach him, he hammers his finger against the button.
“I’ll call you later,” he says to Callie and then kisses her.
I look in the other direction again, ready to get away from this whole affectionate thing they’ve been obsessed with for months. Affection is overrated. I’ve never wanted it and will never, ever go looking for it. The one person that showed me affection made it seem wrong and it’s one of the reasons I won’t get close to anyone, not even Kayden. Yes, we know stuff about each other, but we’ve never had a heart-to-heart. I’ve never had a heart-to-heart with anyone and I plan on keeping it that way, no matter what it takes because the last thing I want is anyone to find out about my past and how screwed up my thoughts are.
Chapter 3
Violet
Right after my parents were murdered, I used to come up with reasons why their lives were taken. The police’s theory was that it was a freak accident when we were getting robbed—for some reason the robbers thought no one was home. My parents had woken up in the middle of it and saw them. Panic ensued. Then gunfire. They never caught who did it and as far as I know these people are walking around in the world, living their lives while my parents were left to rot.
It drives me absolutely insane when I think about it, but sometimes my mind opens up on its own. Thoughts of the people I pass on the street. It could be any of them and I worry that maybe they’ll recognize me. Even though I’m not sure, there’s always that question in my mind if one of them saw me that night, because they looked right at me, but never said a word. It’s something that’s haunted me to this day
I always wonder what I’d do if the murderers were actually caught. Freak out. Celebrate. Be filled with overpowering hate toward them because now I had a face to link with the event. Be terrified. I’m not sure and every time I analyze it too much, my habit kicks in and I seek comfort in the one thing that can give it to me. Danger. Pushing death. Parasuicidal. Adrenaline junkie. Insane. There’s so many different things it could be called and I honestly don’t know which one it is. All I know is what I do—what I need—to get through my life.
I haven’t been doing it over the last few days, though, since I can barely limp around let alone walk. It’s becoming an inconvenience and making me feel weak. But my ankle’s refusing to heal, so I have no option other than to hobble around in pain. The worse part was work. I’ve never been that great of a waitress, since my dazzling people skills are lacking. Add pain to the lack of people skills and my supervisor, Johnny, was threatening to tell our boss about my bitchy attitude toward the costumers. Thankfully I charmed him with a dime bag and that seemed to smooth things over.
I’m headed to the nearest McDonald’s to feed my junk food addiction, wearing a pair of cutoffs and a FROM AUTUMN TO ASHES T-shirt I’ve worn so much the letters are starting to fade. My hair was untamable so I pulled a beanie over it and I’m still sporting the flip-flops. Not my greatest of fashion moments, but I’ve never tried to claim to be some sort of fashionista.
It’s hot and my ankle is swelling from all the weight I’m putting on it, but I’m starving and I don’t have Preston’s car anymore because he only lends it to me when I’m dealing, so my only form of transportation is on foot. I’m counting how many blocks I have left in my head… five or maybe it’s six…
My phone rings and I answer, knowing the ringtone belongs to Preston. Part of me doesn’t want to answer it because I know he’s going to want me to do something I probably don’t feel up to and I won’t tell him no, because I owe him for taking me in when no one else would.
Before Preston came along, I was living with Mr. and Mrs. McGellon, a foster family who liked to lock me in the basement for hours whenever I smarted off or did something wrong. I would have been okay with sitting in the dark listening to the drip of the pipes, but I’ve hated basements ever since I was six. One time when Mr. McGellon threatened to put me down there, I’d shoved him out of frustration and when Mrs. McGellon threatened to call the police, I took off. I lived on the street for about two weeks, and then got busted when I stole some food from a grocery store and ended up spending time in juvie anyway. After I got out, when no one else wanted to take me in, Preston and his wife stepped up. They were young and I think social services was looking for a reason to get rid of me at that point, so they more than willingly turned me over to them. Still, they were there for me.
I answer the phone and put it up to my ear right before it goes to voicemail. “What’s up?”
“Kelley’s getting remarried,” he announces in an irritated tone.
“What do you mean she’s getting remarried?” I drag my foot down the sidewalk. “I thought she left you because she felt trapped.”
“Wow, thanks for painfully reminding me why my ex-wife packed her shit and left,” Preston says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Jesus, Violet, sometimes you’re too blunt for your own good.”
“Blunt?” I pause at the end of the sidewalk. “You’ve always told me what a liar I was.”
“You’re a liar when it comes to you,” he replies. “But with everyone else, you’re blunt. I swear to God you like witnessing people in pain.”
I cross the street and trip onto the curb. “Maybe, or maybe I’ve never been taught to censor myself.”
“You’re so full of it right now. You know exactly what you’re doing so don’t try to pretend you’re all naïve and innocent.” His voice drops an octave. “And speaking of innocence, have you finally lost yours yet?”
I fidget uncomfortably, tugging the bottom of my T-shirt down, glad he can’t see me right now. “Don’t be a creepy old man.”
“I’m not that old, Violet,” he says. “And besides I was just making sure you’re okay and that no guys have fucked you over. Asking about your love life would have been Kelley’s job but since she ditched us, I gotta step in and play the part.”
I shake my head. “Play the part of my foster mom?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“You’re such a sick freak.”
“Coming from the girl who refused to eat anything but pork ’n’ beans for two straight weeks when she first showed up at my house.”
I swing around a couple holding hands blocking the sidewalk. “What can I say? I was missing the foul taste of prison food.”
“You weren’t in prison,” he clarifies. “Just juvie. Don’t try to make yourself sound more badass than you are.”
“Hey, I’m badass,” I protest, not bothering to wind around water spraying on the sidewalk from some sprinklers in a yard. “I could kick your ass.”
He snorts a laugh and it gets under my skin. “Okay, I’ll tell you what. The next time you come here for a visit and we have some time, I’ll take you in my bedroom and you can try to show me how tough you are.”
I wipe water droplets off my arms. “Why would we have to go into the bedroom?”
His laughter drops to a deep throaty sound. “Think outside of your naïve innocent brain, Violet, and maybe you’ll get it.”
“I’m not naïve or innocent, just a little slow,” I say, catching on to what he meant. “And FYI, you’re disgusting and it’s never going to happen.” I don’t like it when he talks to me like this, but if I say anything serious about it, he’ll probably get upset. I saw him get that way with his now ex-wife Kelley and when Preston gets upset, he gets violent.
“Whatever. Don’t pretend like you’re not getting turned on,” he says.
I’m not. At all. I’ve never even been turned on before, at least from what I can remember and it seems like something I would. When I lived with Preston he wasn’t so flirty like this, but once I hit eighteen and was officially considered my own guardian our relationship sort of shifted, especially when Kelley left him. He’s never actually tried anything with me, just talked a lot of talk, and I don’t say anything about it. I don’t want to lose him—he’s the only thing close to a family I have. Even Kelley doesn’t talk to me anymore.
“I gotta go,” I lie. I still have three or four more blocks to go, but I want to end this uncomfortable conversation. “I’ll call you later.”
“You better.” The deep throaty tone of his voice vanishes. “I have stuff for you to do and you still need to pay me back for the eighth I fronted you the other night and you know I don’t take money, only work.”
I tense, worried I’ve upset him and that he’ll get angry and I’m going to lose the only family I have. Then I’ll be totally alone. “I know. And I’ll call you back. I promise.”
“Good girl,” he says and then we say good-bye and hang up.
The tension raveling in my body makes me want to throw myself into oncoming traffic and see how much I can get my heart rate up and shut the tension down. Just thinking about it takes me from worry to terror and excitement. I’m starting to wander sideways toward the curb, wondering if I’d die instantly if I got hit, when a truck pulls up, backfiring when it slows at the curb.
I keep ungracefully strolling up the sidewalk, not wanting to deal with any more perverts today, when I hear a familiar voice say, “Still putting weight on that ankle, huh?”
I speed up, taking long strides, but the radiating pain in my ankle forces me to slow down. “What can I say?” I call over my shoulder. “I’m a rebel. I like to walk on the wild side.”
Luke inches his beat up truck along beside me, driving up the wrong side of the road toward traffic, but luckily no one’s coming. He has the window rolled down and his arm resting on the windowsill. “Well, you’re only rebelling against yourself since it’s your ankle.”
I shake my head, but a smile pushes its way through and manages to push out the tension the conversation with Preston created. I need to put a stop to this thing I’ve got going with him. I enjoy bantering with Luke a little too much and I found walking in silence with him too amusing as well, especially since he didn’t crack under my silent pressure like a lot of people would have. Plus, Preston helped me and no one’s ever really done that before, except he and Kelley and a couple of other people that breezed through my life.
I halt at the edge of the curb and Luke taps the brakes to slow down his truck. “What do you want?” I shield my eyes from the sunlight as I look over at him.
His intense gaze relentlessly holds mine. “I want to see if you need a ride somewhere.”
I elevate my eyebrows as I lean forward and rest my arms on the edge of the open window, just inches away from his. “That’s really what you were doing? Cruising up and down the streets looking for me, hoping that you can give me a ride.”
He presses his lips together, looking entertained by something I said. “No, I was heading to the gym but then I saw you hobbling around like an old lady and thought Hey, maybe she’d like someone to help her out so that she can make it to wherever she’s going by sometime today.”
I struggle with this one. There aren’t too many people in the world who have made me smile and the majority of them are dead. Luke’s getting close and I don’t like it—don’t like how little control I have over my reaction. If he keeps it up, I’m going to have to jack his truck and drive a hundred down the highway, just to clear out all the feelings that come with that damn smile.
“Maybe I enjoy walking around like an old lady.” I slant so close to him I feel the heat of his breath and notice how long his eyelashes are. But I’m only doing it to mess with his head.
He doesn’t move away and his intensity goes up a notch, his expression flaring with something I can’t quite interpret, which is disconcerting. “Okay, I guess I’ll leave you to your hobbling.” He leans back into his truck and looks ahead, throwing me a curveball.
I’m not sure how to respond. I miss a beat, which doesn’t happen too often, and maybe that’s why I do what I do next. “Wait.” I touch his arm as the truck starts to roll forward. The touch startles both of us and I draw my hand away. “I’m going to McDonald’s. It’s like a few blocks up. If you want, you can give me a ride.”
Again he looks like he’s going to laugh. “Okay, then hop in and I’ll give you a ride.”
Wallowing in my own stupidity over the fact that I get vaguely enthused over the fact he’s helping me out again, I round the front of the truck, and hop in.
The door’s hinges squeak as I shut it and Luke shakes his head in annoyance. “Sorry, my truck’s a pile of shit.” He reaches for a pack of cigarettes on the dashboard.
“It’s not a piece of shit.” I roll down the window and let in the warm spring breeze. “It’s just rustic.”
His eyebrows furrow. “You have an interesting vocabulary.” He pops a cigarette into his mouth. “Is that a compliment?” I relax back in the seat. “Coming from Mr. Stoically Aloof.”
He cups his hand around the cigarette and then ignites it with the lighter. “Yeah, you’re going to have to explain that one to me because I don’t get it.”
At the beginning of school, during one of my English classes I had with Luke, the professor told us to describe something in the classroom that we thought would be difficult to describe. For some reason I thought of Luke, the guy who always sat in the back with his arms crossed and this I-don’t-give-a-shit look on his face. He almost seemed unapproachable or maybe just offish or perhaps it was something else. He had friends, though, so it didn’t make any sense. After a lot of analysis, I’d come up with “stoically aloof,” and although I’m not sure I nailed it correctly, every time I’ve crossed paths with him, the nickname pops up in my head. But I’m not about to tell him this.
“Not telling you is what gives it its appeal,” I tell him as he tosses the lighter onto the dash.
He takes a deep drag from his cigarette and then smoke encircles his face. “So you’re not going to tell me ever?” He holds on to the steering wheel with one hand and pulls back onto the road in the right lane and then drives down the road.
I give a one-shoulder shrug. “Maybe one day, but not right now.”
He shakes his head, but a trace of a smile touches his lips. “Fine, but I think I should be able to give you a nickname, too.”
I rotate sideways in the seat, bringing my knee up on it, curiosity sparking inside me. “Oh, I’m really interested to hear this. Let me guess. Crazy Bitch. Psycho Jumper. Old Lady.”
The corners of his lips turn up. “As much as I think all of those are great choices, I’m not going to give you one just yet. I’m going to wait until I find the perfect one to fit your… charming personality.”
I make a face as I roll my eyes. “Ha, ha, you’re hilarious.” He actually kind of is, though, and I have to work to restrain a smile.
His smile broadens, and I feel my heart spastically skip a beat. But then the happiness fades as he hurries and sticks his hand out the window to ash his cigarette. “Shit, I forgot to ask if it was okay to smoke in here.”
“It’s your truck,” I say, turning forward in the seat and putting my foot back on the floor. “You can do whatever the hell you want.”
“Anything I want, huh?” He cocks his head, studying me as he pauses at a stop sigh. We’re leaving the residential part of town and now gas stations and small stores line the street. “What if I said I wanted to drive like a hundred miles an hour in the wrong lane.”
“Then I’d say go ahead.” I kind of wish he would, that way I’d get my much needed dose of adrenaline and these unfamiliar emotions Luke’s creating inside me, ones I haven’t felt in a long time—if ever—emerging inside me would be suffocated. I’m not even sure exactly what they are; whether I find him attractive, annoying, comforting. Regardless, I don’t want to feel anything for him and I need to get rid of whatever it is that I’m feeling.
He continues to hold the cigarette out the window, some of the ash drafting back inside the cab of the truck and landing on the gray Henley he’s wearing, the sleeves rolled up. He’s contemplating something deeply as he looks at me, perhaps actually doing what he said. I wait with a hint of anticipation. Just the idea that my life could potentially be put into danger settles me.
Eventually he concentrates on the road, leaving me marginally disappointed. “So where are you from? Laramie? Or are you just living here for school?” Such a casual question, which doesn’t fit the intensity in his eyes.
“Where are you from?” I counter his question with a question, hoping to divert his attention away from me.
“Around,” he says with a twinkle in his eyes.
Okay, this is harder than I thought. “So besides the fact that you like to walk around with blond sluts in the dark and force your way into people’s lives, what do you like to do?”
His gaze slides from the road to me. “I thought you already knew what I did—play football, help damsels in distress, walk around being stoically aloof.”
I stare impassively at him even though a laugh tickles the back of my throat. It’s been a long time since I’ve even tasted the brief glimpse of laughter. “Touché, Luke Price.”
He presses his hand dramatically against his chest. “Did I just win a conversation?”
“You say that like we were playing a game.”
“Weren’t we?” There’s a challenge in his brown eyes and I feel something awaken inside me, something I’m not sure has ever been fully awake.
“Maybe,” I shift uneasily at the fact that I’m actually feeling something besides numbness, yet I don’t know what it is. “But I wouldn’t count on winning just yet.”
He inhales from the end of his cigarette again, then smoke eases out of his lips. There’s a ghost of a smile on his face, but the shadows in his eyes leave Luke Price unreadable, a mystery, exactly what I strive to be myself. I could press him for more details about his life, where he came from, what makes him tick, but I’m guessing the shadows are there for a reason. And if I go digging into his life, he just might try to dig through mine. And I don’t want him or anyone else to get to know me, because it’s a waste of time. In the end he’ll leave me. Everyone always does.
Luke
“You know I’m not really a fan of hamburgers,” I say. We’re sitting at a table in McDonald’s on opposite sides with a tray of food in between us. I’m trying to keep the conversation light since it was getting heavy in the car. She’s got my thoughts all tangled up. Not only is she a girl who jumps out of windows, but she got way too excited when I said I’d drive down the wrong lane going a hundred miles an hour. It’s like she wanted me to do it and again I can’t help but wonder what’s going on in that head of hers. It’s almost becoming an obsession—needing to know. And that makes me instantly back off.
“You sound like you’re a vegetarian,” Violet remarks from across the table, unwrapping her hamburger.
“Nope, just a guy who doesn’t have much of a taste for burgers.” I grab a handful of fries and plop them into my mouth.
She raises her eyebrows and takes a bite of her hamburger. “I think it’s weird.”
I’m not even sure how I ended up here with Violet. I’d been heading to the store because I’d run out of tequila and Jack Daniel’s and I needed it more than I needed air. I’d just gotten my dad’s wedding invitation, along with a call from him, asking me to be his best man.
“I’m trying to decide if you’re kidding,” I’d replied, because he couldn’t be serious. Best men were supposed to be friends, like each other, know each other.
“I know it’s kind of late notice, since the wedding’s in a couple of months,” he said. “But I’d really like you to be the one standing beside me.”
I shook my head, balling the invitation up in my hand. “I’m not even sure I can come to the wedding.”
“Oh, I see.” He sounded so disappointed, but I wasn’t about to give into him that easily. “Well, could you just do me a favor and think about it?”
