dating another girl like a week later. Some blonde girl who looked nothing like me and was…” Gorgeous. She was gorgeous and not just because Luke thought so. She was objectively gorgeous.
“I dated who was expected of me,” Luke says with a shrug. “I probably would have pursued you more, but my roommates and guys like Gray convinced me it would be inappropriate. So I just tried to get over it and dated a girl who I knew wouldn’t say no.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. How could Luke, back when he was perfect and able-bodied, have been heartsick over someone like me? I look at him now, staring down at his hands. I know he doesn’t think so, but somehow he’s more attractive now than he was back then. He’s become a deeper person. He knows what it’s like not to get everything you want in life.
I glance at the dark glass dividing us from the driver. “Can he see us?” I ask.
Luke shakes his head. “No, he can’t. Why?”
I can smell Luke’s expensive aftershave hanging between us. His light hair, which is usually perfect, is slightly mussed from the evening, and it only adds to his sexiness. For a moment, I feel tempted to unbuckle my seatbelt and kiss him. The thought pops into my head randomly and I’m shocked by it. Luke Thayer is totally wrong for me. But maybe it’s all the champagne, I don’t know. I really just want him to kiss me.
But it’s just a passing thought. Luke and I wouldn’t work together—it’s stupid to even contemplate such a thing.
“No reason,” I mumble.
He’s staring at me, his face slightly flushed, an odd look in his eyes. He’s looking at me like he wants me. Of course, he’s made no secret of that fact before, but I’ve never seen him look at me with quite this much desire. Actually, I don’t know if anyone has ever looked at me this way.
“I guess we’ll take you home, huh?” he says.
I nod, hardly able to breathe. What in the name of God is wrong with me?
“Thank you,” Luke says, “for a wonderful evening.”
Chapter Eleven
The next morning, I’m woken at 9AM by the intercom buzzing. I fumble for my phone and hear a crackling voice saying something about a package so I hit 9 to let them in. I wrap myself in a housecoat, push my glasses onto my nose, and stumble in the direction of the door.
I see a flash of red in the peephole, and I open the door to the most amazing arrangement of roses I’ve ever seen. I stand there staring at three-dozen roses, mostly trying to figure out how I’m going to get them all into the apartment. Sadie opens her door and looks like she’s gone to heaven when she sees all the flowers. “Is that from your suitor?” she asks me excitedly.
I blush. “Um…”
“Well, that one’s a keeper,” she remarks.
That’s kind of… I don’t know, chauvinistic? Just because a guy gets me a… well, really impressive amount of flowers, that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a great guy. Now that the alcohol has left my system, I fully remember why I’ve decided Luke and I need to just be friends.
I reach down to pick up the card stuck on the flowers. Sadie is watching me eagerly. “What did he write?”
He wrote: Dear Ellie, Thank you for last night. Three roses for each finger. Best, Luke. But I can’t say that to Sadie. So I mumble, “It says, thank you for a lovely dinner last night.”
“Oh, how sweet,” Sadie sighs. “Do you think my hamantaschen helped?”
“Undoubtedly,” I say.
It takes me two trips, but I manage to get all the roses into the house. I have to admit, I’m the tiniest bit impressed. Men in this day and age don’t usually buy flowers. At least, they don’t buy me flowers. One guy I dated told me flat out that he wasn’t going to bother because I didn’t seem like the flower-loving type, which I suppose is true. But it’s the thought that counts, right?
I decide the proper thing to do is to call Luke and thank him for the flowers. I dial his cell, which he
“I dated who was expected of me,” Luke says with a shrug. “I probably would have pursued you more, but my roommates and guys like Gray convinced me it would be inappropriate. So I just tried to get over it and dated a girl who I knew wouldn’t say no.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. How could Luke, back when he was perfect and able-bodied, have been heartsick over someone like me? I look at him now, staring down at his hands. I know he doesn’t think so, but somehow he’s more attractive now than he was back then. He’s become a deeper person. He knows what it’s like not to get everything you want in life.
I glance at the dark glass dividing us from the driver. “Can he see us?” I ask.
Luke shakes his head. “No, he can’t. Why?”
I can smell Luke’s expensive aftershave hanging between us. His light hair, which is usually perfect, is slightly mussed from the evening, and it only adds to his sexiness. For a moment, I feel tempted to unbuckle my seatbelt and kiss him. The thought pops into my head randomly and I’m shocked by it. Luke Thayer is totally wrong for me. But maybe it’s all the champagne, I don’t know. I really just want him to kiss me.
But it’s just a passing thought. Luke and I wouldn’t work together—it’s stupid to even contemplate such a thing.
“No reason,” I mumble.
He’s staring at me, his face slightly flushed, an odd look in his eyes. He’s looking at me like he wants me. Of course, he’s made no secret of that fact before, but I’ve never seen him look at me with quite this much desire. Actually, I don’t know if anyone has ever looked at me this way.
“I guess we’ll take you home, huh?” he says.
I nod, hardly able to breathe. What in the name of God is wrong with me?
“Thank you,” Luke says, “for a wonderful evening.”
Chapter Eleven
The next morning, I’m woken at 9AM by the intercom buzzing. I fumble for my phone and hear a crackling voice saying something about a package so I hit 9 to let them in. I wrap myself in a housecoat, push my glasses onto my nose, and stumble in the direction of the door.
I see a flash of red in the peephole, and I open the door to the most amazing arrangement of roses I’ve ever seen. I stand there staring at three-dozen roses, mostly trying to figure out how I’m going to get them all into the apartment. Sadie opens her door and looks like she’s gone to heaven when she sees all the flowers. “Is that from your suitor?” she asks me excitedly.
I blush. “Um…”
“Well, that one’s a keeper,” she remarks.
That’s kind of… I don’t know, chauvinistic? Just because a guy gets me a… well, really impressive amount of flowers, that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a great guy. Now that the alcohol has left my system, I fully remember why I’ve decided Luke and I need to just be friends.
I reach down to pick up the card stuck on the flowers. Sadie is watching me eagerly. “What did he write?”
He wrote: Dear Ellie, Thank you for last night. Three roses for each finger. Best, Luke. But I can’t say that to Sadie. So I mumble, “It says, thank you for a lovely dinner last night.”
“Oh, how sweet,” Sadie sighs. “Do you think my hamantaschen helped?”
“Undoubtedly,” I say.
It takes me two trips, but I manage to get all the roses into the house. I have to admit, I’m the tiniest bit impressed. Men in this day and age don’t usually buy flowers. At least, they don’t buy me flowers. One guy I dated told me flat out that he wasn’t going to bother because I didn’t seem like the flower-loving type, which I suppose is true. But it’s the thought that counts, right?
I decide the proper thing to do is to call Luke and thank him for the flowers. I dial his cell, which he
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