I smile, partly with pride, but mostly in appreciation of her obvious attempt not to scare poor Tommy.
My hair is partially dry like hers, though my waves are more pronounced as they flow down my back, and I’m wearing a simple rugby-style T-shirt with navy and white stripes, dark blue skinny jeans, and my white, generic Keds. My makeup is minimal, much like Genny’s, with a light shadow and mascara on my eyes, and a clear, shiny gloss on my lips.
It’s not much, but I feel pretty and comfortable in my skin.
“You look gorgeous,” Genny states, linking our arms together and leading us to the door.
I laugh. “I don’t look any different.”
She grins. “Oh, but you do. You just don’t realize it.”
As soon as we step outside, the boys turn in sync to face us. Adam beams with pride, his eyes tapering at the sides with his smile. “You ladies look beautiful this evening.”
Genny rolls her eyes then releases me to take Adam’s offered arm. Together, they head toward the truck, leaving me to fend for myself under the scrutiny of Lukas’s stare. He quirks an eyebrow and his mouth follows suit, lifting at the corner.
I blush, nervously tugging at the hem of my shirt before once again meeting his studious gaze.
How can just his silence fluster me? “What?”
He shakes his head, still lopsidedly grinning. Wordlessly, he reaches forward and lifts my hair over my shoulder. I try not to shudder when his fingers trail down the fabric of my sleeve and cross under my elbow, but lose the battle when his thumb touches my forearm.
He drops his gaze and my eyes follow…
Oh. Shit.
My gloves. My lack of them.
Panic worms its way through my stomach. Foolishly comfortable here at the house, I hadn’t even thought to hide my scars when going out… They’ll be on display. People pointing, snickering, frowning, pitying. Instinctively, I move to cover them, but Lukas gently holds my wrist with his other hand.
Fear clogs my throat, and I shake my head in refusal.
No. I can’t do it.
“Look at me, Chloe.” His tone is stern, but not cold.
Although my head is still moving back and forth, I somehow manage to peel my gaze from my arm to meet his eyes. My chin quivers uncontrollably, and all I can think about as I look at the boy towering over me is how impossibly strong he is and how incredibly weak I am.
I don’t want to be weak.
I’ve been living in a bubble, but it’s not the real world.
I’m not ready. And I hate it.
Hate me.
His gaze is surprisingly tender, and I want to hide there in the softness of his understanding. He tightens his grip on my wrist then shakes his head. “No more hiding.”
“I…I…c-can’t…” I need air. Now.
Lukas answers in a soft, pleading whisper. “But you can.”
Stubborn tears claw at my throat. Fight it, Chloe. Fight it. “Why?” Why should I?
“Because you have nothing to be ashamed of. These scars”—he lifts both my arms into my line of sight—“are a part of you that should never be denied. They’re your battle scars, and they should be worn with pride. When I look at them, I don’t see the mark of a frightened girl, but of a warrior. I see someone I strive to be. I just…”
He releases his hold on my arms, then runs his hands through his hair. “When you cover them, I can’t see you. And I need to see you, Chloe. I can’t explain it, I just do.”
His admission steals my breath, but I force myself to remain impassive, silently allowing him the time he needs to speak. After a couple of seconds, Lukas shakes his head. “I’m sorry. This isn’t about me or my needs. It’s about you.”
He rests his hands on my shoulders then presses his thumbs underneath my jaw, tipping my head so I’m given no choice but to meet his eyes. “You’re scared. I understand that. But can you honestly look me in the eyes and tell me these past few weeks without those gloves haven’t been liberating?”
I’m still barely breathing.
“You don’t need them for comfort. You don’t need them to conceal a goddamn thing. What you need is to look the world straight in the eye, give it the middle finger in honor of your shit past, and laugh your ass off because you came out on top. Then, just for spite, you need to laugh a little more, because you came out so far on top, the only person who can look down on you from where you’re left standing is you. No one else.”
Wow. Okay.
So, Lukas had absolutely no problem communicating that.
In these moments, I see the protective big-brother heart that Michelle must have seen. She had him in her life a short time, but I doubt she’s forgotten him. Her guardian angel. Her avenging angel.
A hint of amusement tugs at my lips, and although I find myself wanting to say, “Sir, yes sir!” what actually comes out is a defiant, “I can give the world the middle finger.”
Lukas grins then drops his hands to gesture to space around us. “I know you can. So, let’s see it.”
Breathy laughter escapes me, and I roll my eyes. Slowly, I lift my arm and deliberately extend my middle finger for the whole wide world to see.
Behind Lukas, the door of the truck swings open, and the sun reflects off Genny’s pink hair. “Well, fuck you, too!” she shouts. “Now, Lukas, if you’re done corrupting our precious Wildflower, we have a movie to get to or we’re going to be late for our date. Plus, I need popcorn, stat.”
“Timmy!” Adam eloquently adds.
Lukas chuckles, falling into step with me in the direction of the Chevy and leaning into me as we walk.
“Speaking of Timmy…”
“Tommy,” I correct.
“Just so you know, if he so much as glances at you in a way I feel is disrespectful, I will end him.”
I laugh. “Aren’t you like, on probation or something?”
“Yeah,” Lukas admits, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking wistfully up at the sky. “But some people are just worth fighting for.”
12
We coast into the movie theater’s parking lot, the four of us crammed into the cab like sardines. I start to make a clown car joke as Lukas kills the engine, but I’m shocked into silence when the truck protests with a backfire of deafening proportion. The near explosion startles a group of young girls passing by the front of the truck. A collective shriek sounds, then several pairs of eyes narrow in our direction. As soon as Lukas waves his apology, every single one of their faces breaks into a stupid, dopey grin.
I gag and roll my eyes.
Next to me, Genny does the same, and I silently thank her for her support.
Meanwhile, Lukas proclaims his innocence with a flash of his palms while choking back laughter.
Disappointed by his lack of participation in our theatrics, I turn to glare at Adam, but my anger falls short.
Adam is the most easygoing person I know. But this—a clenched jaw, narrowed eyes, pinched lips, and a hardened glare burning a hole through the window? What the hell?
My face falls in confusion, and I turn to follow his stare. My eyes skate over the parking lot, until they lock on a group of people loitering in front of the theater.
When I turn back with a curious expression, a muscle ticks along Adam’s jaw and his stare lingers on the group before he faces me. And though his expression is furious, his eyes are raw, broadcasting an undeniable emotion.