“Maybe I enjoy walking around like an old lady.” I slant so close to him I feel the heat of his breath and notice how long his eyelashes are. But I’m only doing it to mess with his head.

He doesn’t move away and his intensity goes up a notch, his expression flaring with something I can’t quite interpret, which is disconcerting. “Okay, I guess I’ll leave you to your hobbling.” He leans back into his truck and looks ahead, throwing me a curveball.

I’m not sure how to respond. I miss a beat, which doesn’t happen too often, and maybe that’s why I do what I do next. “Wait.” I touch his arm as the truck starts to roll forward. The touch startles both of us and I draw my hand away. “I’m going to McDonald’s. It’s like a few blocks up. If you want, you can give me a ride.”

Again he looks like he’s going to laugh. “Okay, then hop in and I’ll give you a ride.”

Wallowing in my own stupidity over the fact that I get vaguely enthused over the fact he’s helping me out again, I round the front of the truck, and hop in.

The door’s hinges squeak as I shut it and Luke shakes his head in annoyance. “Sorry, my truck’s a pile of shit.” He reaches for a pack of cigarettes on the dashboard.

“It’s not a piece of shit.” I roll down the window and let in the warm spring breeze. “It’s just rustic.”

His eyebrows furrow. “You have an interesting vocabulary.” He pops a cigarette into his mouth. “Is that a compliment?” I relax back in the seat. “Coming from Mr. Stoically Aloof.”

He cups his hand around the cigarette and then ignites it with the lighter. “Yeah, you’re going to have to explain that one to me because I don’t get it.”

At the beginning of school, during one of my English classes I had with Luke, the professor told us to describe something in the classroom that we thought would be difficult to describe. For some reason I thought of Luke, the guy who always sat in the back with his arms crossed and this I-don’t-give-a-shit look on his face. He almost seemed unapproachable or maybe just offish or perhaps it was something else. He had friends, though, so it didn’t make any sense. After a lot of analysis, I’d come up with “stoically aloof,” and although I’m not sure I nailed it correctly, every time I’ve crossed paths with him, the nickname pops up in my head. But I’m not about to tell him this.

“Not telling you is what gives it its appeal,” I tell him as he tosses the lighter onto the dash.

He takes a deep drag from his cigarette and then smoke encircles his face. “So you’re not going to tell me ever?” He holds on to the steering wheel with one hand and pulls back onto the road in the right lane and then drives down the road.

I give a one-shoulder shrug. “Maybe one day, but not right now.”

He shakes his head, but a trace of a smile touches his lips. “Fine, but I think I should be able to give you a nickname, too.”

I rotate sideways in the seat, bringing my knee up on it, curiosity sparking inside me. “Oh, I’m really interested to hear this. Let me guess. Crazy Bitch. Psycho Jumper. Old Lady.”

The corners of his lips turn up. “As much as I think all of those are great choices, I’m not going to give you one just yet. I’m going to wait until I find the perfect one to fit your… charming personality.”

I make a face as I roll my eyes. “Ha, ha, you’re hilarious.” He actually kind of is, though, and I have to work to restrain a smile.

His smile broadens, and I feel my heart spastically skip a beat. But then the happiness fades as he hurries and sticks his hand out the window to ash his cigarette. “Shit, I forgot to ask if it was okay to smoke in here.”

“It’s your truck,” I say, turning forward in the seat and putting my foot back on the floor. “You can do whatever the hell you want.”

“Anything I want, huh?” He cocks his head, studying me as he pauses at a stop sigh. We’re leaving the residential part of town and now gas stations and small stores line the street. “What if I said I wanted to drive like a hundred miles an hour in the wrong lane.”

“Then I’d say go ahead.” I kind of wish he would, that way I’d get my much needed dose of adrenaline and these unfamiliar emotions Luke’s creating inside me, ones I haven’t felt in a long time—if ever—emerging inside me would be suffocated. I’m not even sure exactly what they are; whether I find him attractive, annoying, comforting. Regardless, I don’t want to feel anything for him and I need to get rid of whatever it is that I’m feeling.

He continues to hold the cigarette out the window, some of the ash drafting back inside the cab of the truck and landing on the gray Henley he’s wearing, the sleeves rolled up. He’s contemplating something deeply as he looks at me, perhaps actually doing what he said. I wait with a hint of anticipation. Just the idea that my life could potentially be put into danger settles me.

Eventually he concentrates on the road, leaving me marginally disappointed. “So where are you from? Laramie? Or are you just living here for school?” Such a casual question, which doesn’t fit the intensity in his eyes.

“Where are you from?” I counter his question with a question, hoping to divert his attention away from me.

“Around,” he says with a twinkle in his eyes.

Okay, this is harder than I thought. “So besides the fact that you like to walk around with blond sluts in the dark and force your way into people’s lives, what do you like to do?”

His gaze slides from the road to me. “I thought you already knew what I did—play football, help damsels in distress, walk around being stoically aloof.”

I stare impassively at him even though a laugh tickles the back of my throat. It’s been a long time since I’ve even tasted the brief glimpse of laughter. “Touché, Luke Price.”

He presses his hand dramatically against his chest. “Did I just win a conversation?”

“You say that like we were playing a game.”

“Weren’t we?” There’s a challenge in his brown eyes and I feel something awaken inside me, something I’m not sure has ever been fully awake.

“Maybe,” I shift uneasily at the fact that I’m actually feeling something besides numbness, yet I don’t know what it is. “But I wouldn’t count on winning just yet.”

He inhales from the end of his cigarette again, then smoke eases out of his lips. There’s a ghost of a smile on his face, but the shadows in his eyes leave Luke Price unreadable, a mystery, exactly what I strive to be myself. I could press him for more details about his life, where he came from, what makes him tick, but I’m guessing the shadows are there for a reason. And if I go digging into his life, he just might try to dig through mine. And I don’t want him or anyone else to get to know me, because it’s a waste of time. In the end he’ll leave me. Everyone always does.

Luke

“You know I’m not really a fan of hamburgers,” I say. We’re sitting at a table in McDonald’s on opposite sides with a tray of food in between us. I’m trying to keep the conversation light since it was getting heavy in the car. She’s got my thoughts all tangled up. Not only is she a girl who jumps out of windows, but she got way too excited when I said I’d drive down the wrong lane going a hundred miles an hour. It’s like she wanted me to do it and again I can’t help but wonder what’s going on in that head of hers. It’s almost becoming an obsession—needing to know. And that makes me instantly back off.

“You sound like you’re a vegetarian,” Violet remarks from across the table, unwrapping her hamburger.

“Nope, just a guy who doesn’t have much of a taste for burgers.” I grab a handful of fries and plop them into my mouth.

She raises her eyebrows and takes a bite of her hamburger. “I think it’s weird.”

I’m not even sure how I ended up here with Violet. I’d been heading to the store because I’d run out of tequila and Jack Daniel’s and I needed it more than I needed air. I’d just gotten my dad’s wedding invitation, along with a call from him, asking me to be his best man.