Page 136 of Come to Me
She leans back, her eyes on the sky. "I don't know."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Alyssa
Luke makes a few stabs at prying my feelings out of me, but I'm too damn tired to talk about it anymore.
Yes, I have doubts, but doubts are normal. Yes, I neglected to tell him about Ryan, but...
I was right. He did overreact.
And, yes, I called Ryan secretly and I had no real intentions of telling Luke about it. But it wasn't really about Luke. It was about me and Ryan. And I should be allowed to talk to the person who was my best friend for my entire adolescence.
So, I ask if we can save the conversation for when I've had more sleep, and I fall into a fitful nap on the top of a mountain. Luke holds me the entire time, probably terrified I'll roll off a cliff into oblivion.
But we're already so close to oblivion. What's really the worst that could happen at this point?
After a quiet walk back to the car--mostly downhill, thank God--we drive in silence. It's well into the afternoon at this point, but I have no clue where we're going, what our plan is.
The narrow, windy roads seem to stretch forever. Thank God Luke is driving. I'd probably steer right off the side of the road. If I could even manage to keep my eyes open for long enough to drive.
Once we're back in civilization, Luke pulls into the parking lot of a mall. Of course, even in paradise, there are plentiful malls.
He looks me over, carefully, like I really am about to break. I'm sure I look like shit, like I’m really about to explode into a million pieces. But it's irritating.
"How about an early dinner?" he offers.
I nod, okay, and I don't bother to make a comment about how we're skipping lunch. The sarcasm would do nothing to convince him I'm healthy. That I'm worth reaching. That I'm really going to talk to him when my energy is better.
We stop at a Vietnamese noodle shop. It's a tiny place in a strip mall, packed with plastic tables and chairs. There are mirrors all over the walls, but I try to avoid them. I'm not at my best at the moment.
We take a seat at a table by the door. We're the only customers in the whole shop, but the server hangs back by the kitchen, chatting with one of the cooks.
Luke scans the menu. "They have Vietnamese iced coffee."
"I thought I was over-caffeinated and dehydrated."
He shrugs.
"Has that ever stopped you before?"
We pour over our menus for a while. I pick out something that won't overwhelm me--chicken and vegetables in some kind of white sauce.
When I look up, Luke's eyes are on mine. There's so much concern in his expression, but he keeps his mouth shut.
The server stops by and we place our orders. My main concern is water. Lots and lots of water. I squint my eyes closed until we have our drinks.
Luke has a Vietnamese iced coffee. It's in a parfait glass and it's swimming in whipped cream. Not something I would ever order. But, still, when he offers me a sip, I take one.
It's sickeningly sweet, but there is something satisfying about it. Like it could chase away every inch of pain in my body. I nod, thank you, and pass the drink back to him.
I focus on my water. After half a dozen glasses, I finally regain my senses. Whatever happens, it's nice to be here with Luke in the middle of paradise. It's nice to sit across from him at an empty ethnic restaurant, trying out some food I've never had before.
We talk a little about the trip, about Hawaii, about life back in Los Angeles. But we're still dodging everything important. Even Luke is careful not to tread on any subject that could be a damn land mine.
I have half a mind to let everything out. To say fuck it and demand a better explanation for why things have been so difficult.
But I don't.
