The Destiny of Violet and Luke(18)

He eyes me with this illegible expression. “Who says I was trying to charm you?”

I’m not sure if he’s aiming to be a flirty douche or just a douche, but either way I’m done talking to him. I need to get myself calmed down anyway. I inhale and blow it out as I glide forward, but freeze as blinding pain radiates through my leg and I start to fall toward the ground.

“Shit.” Luke hurries forward with his arms out in front of him. “Let me help you.”

I stick out my hand as I stagger back against the tree. “I got it. I don’t need your help.”

He stares at me with condescending doubt. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“I just need a breather and I’ll be good to go,” I insist, portraying confidence on the outside that I lack on the inside. I’ve pretty much given up hope that I’m going to make it to class today and the anxiety is only escalating. The ideal thing for me to do now is to go back to the dorm and take care of the problem the only way I know how.

He crosses his arms, his lean muscles flexing, and presses his lips together, either to conceal his irritation or amusement—I honestly can’t tell from the intensity dripping off of him. “Where are you trying to go?”

“I’m not trying to go anywhere.” I press my palms flat against the rough tree bark. “I’m going to go to class.”

He crooks his eyebrow. “To chemistry?”

“Yeah,” I say. “The class you’re supposed to be at, too, I’m pretty sure.”

“Yeah, I’m running late.” He gives a fleeting glance at the sidewalk and then his gaze lands back on me. “And now I’m going to be even later thanks to you.”

“No one said you had to stop and talk to me.” I square my shoulders, preparing to march my way across the yard with my head held high, showing that I do have some dignity left in me, even though I know I’m not going to make it all the way. I can pretend though, at least until he leaves.

I make it five amazing, dignified steps before my knees give out on me. Then Luke steals all the dignity I have left as he rushes forward and catches me in his sturdy arms. Even though it would have hurt worse, I would have rather face-planted into the grass and injured myself, then let my pride be wounded like it is now.

“What are you doing?” My flip flop scrapes against the grass as I endeavor to get my feet back under me. “I said I got it.”

“Sorry, but you obviously don’t,” he replies simply, tucking his arms underneath mine he helps me to my feet.

I consider shoving him as one of his hands slides down my side and to my waist, but then I realize he’s doing it to support my weight. I’m not sure what to do. I don’t ask for help with anything—I’m not that weak anymore—but technically I’m not asking Luke for help right now. He’s just doing it on his own, which isn’t the same. At least that’s what I tell myself to make this situation feel better. Besides, he’s become a very good distraction from the emotions stirring in my chest before he showed up. I’m starting to settle down, calming on the inside. No one’s ever done this to me before, except for maybe Preston and his ex-wife and my ex-foster mother, Kelley, and those instants were few and far between.

“Now are you going to let me help you back to your dorm or not?” His fingers gently press into my side.

I dither, then place my hand on his shoulder so I can lift more weight off my foot. “No, but I’ll let you help me to class.” I catch a hint of his scent; cologne mixed with soap and a splash of tequila.

He gapes at me. “You need to stay off your foot.”

“No, I need to go to class,” I argue, then hold my breath because the scent of his cologne is delicious. “It’s important.”

“Why? It’s just one class.”

“Because I don’t miss class. Ever.”

He searches my eyes for God knows what, a sign of sanity maybe, but then he gives up and nods. “All right Violet…” He waits for me to give him my last name, but I only shake my head. I don’t like saying my real last name because then I remember that I’m the only living person left carrying it. I could use my made-up one, but I don’t like giving that one out either since it seems like I’m giving someone an open invitation to know me. “Okay, then Violet with no last name. Let’s get you to class.”

Then for the first time in thirteen years, someone actually helps me. And the odd thing is he willingly does it.