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“So, um”—he waves a hand about the vast room—“you got any event planning pointers?” he says distractingly, changing the subject, and it’s so cute I can’t help but smile.
I pucker my lips, cross one arm over my stomach, and raise my other hand to my chin, pretending to look professional and contemplative.
“Hmm,” I say and look to my left, and then my right, taking my time. “Well, do you have a theme?”
Luke reaches up and nervously scratches the back of his neck.
“No, not really,” he says. “Unless Community Charity Art Event is considered a theme?”
I smile warmly. “Well, I mean more along the lines of”—I purse my lips in thought and then point at him—“think about a prom; there’s always a theme: a masquerade, Mardi Gras, Alice in Wonderland—there are so many things to pick from.”
Luke looks upward in thought, slowly nodding his head.
“That’s a good idea,” he says, and his eyes meet mine. “But there’s not a big budget for the setup. Honestly, Melinda never actually gave me a dollar amount, but I know that whatever it is, it’s not going to be a whole lot.”
I nod and think on it another moment, chewing on the inside of my mouth gently. I’m used to money being little to no issue when it comes to events, and now that I think about it, since this is a charity event, it’s counterproductive to spend a lot on a setup when that money could go toward the charity itself.
“OK, how about you find out Melinda’s budget,” I suggest, “and we’ll go from there. We’ll keep it simple. Depending on what we come up with, I might have to order some things online, but I know all the right places to look and can even talk to a few people I’ve worked with before to pull us a few strings.”
Luke looks at me in a suspicious sidelong glance.
“Us?” he asks with implication and a grin. “No working, remember?”
I grin back at him broadly, and with a shrug of my shoulders, I say, “It’s not the same, trust me. I would really love to help. To be honest, I’m actually kind of excited about it—my mind is already buzzing with ideas.”
Luke doesn’t appear convinced.
“You sure it’s not just that work addiction of yours?” he asks. “I refuse to enable you.”
I laugh lightly. “No, it’s nothing like that at all,” I say, stepping up closer and tilting my head a little. “I really want to help. I think it’ll be fun and it’s for a good cause; I can’t think of any reason not to.”
“Are you sure, Sienna?” His strong hands fall softly on my upper arms, sending a trail of shivers up the back of my neck. “Definitely.” I smile.
We gaze into each other’s eyes for a moment until finally he gives in, nods, and says, “OK. If that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get.” The palms of his hands rub up and down my arms.
I can’t help but think there’s another, more tender meaning behind that comment, accompanied by the warmth in his eyes. I wish I could explore it further, crawl inside that beautiful head of his and listen to his thoughts because I feel like right now every single one of them is about me—I’ve never felt so … special.
“And no stressin’ out, yah hear me?” he says with narrowed eyes. “The second I sense it feels like work to you, I’m pulling you outta there; I’ll throw you over my shoulder, kickin’ and screamin’ if I have to.”
“All right,” I say with laughter in my voice.
“Of course, that’s not the only thing you’ll be doing while you’re here,” he points out. “I’d like to have you all to myself most of the time.”
My face feels like it’s on fire. I swallow nervously, excitedly.
“It’s a deal,” I say.
He takes my hand and walks with me out of the building and into the sunshine.
He won’t say where he’s taking me next. I practically begged him when we first got on the bus, quietly so the people sitting nearby wouldn’t hear how whiny I might’ve sounded, but Luke was impervious to my feminine charms this time. And I have to say, I’m glad for that because I like a guy who puts his foot down every now and then and who isn’t so sweet that he always lets me have my way. What fun is there in that? But I’ve been looking for it. Since the day I met him on that beach, I’ve been waiting for the one thing about him that’s going to turn me off and make me run in the other direction to rear its ugly head. Because it always happens. A guy can be as perfect as a guy can be. I can check the boxes off my little list of requirements from top to bottom and even add a few things I never imagined any guy could have all in one personality, but eventually that hideous sore will pop up out of nowhere and turn a prince into a troll. It’s one of my other flaws, but I’ll never tell Luke that. Paige says it’s because I’m afraid to get serious, because I’m so wrapped up in my career that in the back of my mind I know that getting too serious with someone will threaten it. Paige also says I’m “too fucking young to be worried about stuff like that,” but she and I are different in that way—I think the younger I solidify my life and career, the better. I look at my parents and how much they might’ve had, the things they could’ve done, the time they could’ve spent together, if only they hadn’t had to struggle financially as much as they did. I love them, but I don’t want to end up like them and go through what they went through. What they’re still going through.
But Luke is someone I can’t easily brush aside and I know it, even if my feelings for him could one day threaten to change my life, veer it off course, turn it in a direction that I’ve never experienced before. It’s frightening to think about the possibilities; my life has, for the most part, stayed on one straight course, never risking unfamiliar roads, rarely contemplating change—but Luke makes me feel like I can, that it’s somehow safe to take a chance on something unknown. It’s frightening, yes, but it’s also exciting, and that’s just not something I think I can ignore.
Still, that ugly sore could show up right now as I’m sitting close to him on the bus, our thighs touching even though there’s room enough they don’t need to, and I know it would take a lot to scare me away. I’m not afraid of getting closer to him. I don’t feel a nervous ball in my stomach that makes me want to clam up on Luke. I don’t feel the sudden urge to take a step back and slow things down. I’m not afraid of getting serious with him, but instead, I feel like I’m running toward him with open arms and I don’t care how fast my legs are taking me there. No, I’m definitely not afraid of getting closer to him.
I think I’m afraid of the reverse.
Paige was wrong—I was never really scared of getting serious with a guy. I’ve just been holding out for the right guy.
