12/25/2015

chapter eighteen ;

♡

hadn't jumped onmy bed at seven in the morning, I would have awoken early. Just not that early.

"Stop," I grumbled, attempting to kick out at the boy – but he dodged my feet effortlessly, needless to say.

All of a sudden, Benny dropped down to my side – my entire body nearly bounced off of the bed. Groaning, I flipped over and buried my face into my pillow. The groaning was incessant, even when he wrapped an arm around my waist.

"Get up, Sleeping Beauty," Benny grinned, "it's Christmas! Jesus' birthday!"

"I don't think Jesus will mind if I sleep for another hour," I said, my voice muffled by the pillow.

"Oh, come on." Benny pressed his cheek between my shoulder blades, using his free hand to brush my hair aside. "Get in the Christmas spirit."

"You know," I sighed, turning my head so that my voice was clear, "we are total opposites, aren't we? I guess it's true that opposites attract."

"We're not total opposites," Benny insisted. "We both love baseball. And . . . our favorite color is blue. . . . We've got more in common than that. I just can't think of it right now."

"The primary difference I was thinking of is that you'd be happy to get up at the crack of dawn. And I wouldn't. And it makes me want to kill you when you wake me up at the crack of dawn."

Benny's shoulders shook with his silent laughter. It took a moment before he could respond. "It's not the crack of dawn, babe. The sun rose an hour ago."

"That is no better!"

"Oh, Kayla," Benny whined, "just get up with me now. Mom and Liz are awake, and we've got presents for you, too."

"What?" I shrieked, suddenly alert. "Why would you have presents for me?"

The boy straightened to lie directly at my side, his tall form parallel to mine. He pushed his face into the pillow beside my own face; his cold nose poked my cheek, and I groaned again.

"Benjamin. Franklin. Rodriguez. Stop trying to wake me up."

"You're already awake, silly."

"Oh, my God."

Benny burst into laughter. "Well, it's true! Now give me a kiss, at least."

"If I give you a kiss, will you let me sleep for a while longer?"

After a moment of thought, Benny sighed. "All right. Half an hour."

Without another thought, I turned to face Benny and allowed him to connect his lips to mine. The kiss was brief, but the boy was satisfied. He smiled, rested his head onto the pillow, and stared at me with bright eyes.

I didn't bother to turn my head away. My insecurities hardly brushed my mind. Benny had studied my imperfections before – he would not mind now.

And so I fell asleep.

♡

The thirty minutes seemed to last only for five minutes. Too soon Benny was shaking me awake again, although gentler than the first time.

After brushing my teeth, dressing into a light outfit, and throwing my tangled raven curls into a bun, Benny and I set off for his house. Naturally, Luke and my parents were still fast asleep. I envied them.

The morning air was cool and inviting. It touched my skin and refreshed me – sort of like with Benny. The sleepiness faded as the two of us neared the Rodriguez house, and my suspicion grew.

"Why are there presents for me?" I had not received an answer the first time I asked the question.

Benny chuckled. "Why wouldn't you?"

"Um, because I'm just your girlfriend, not an actual blood relative. You don't have to buy me anything."

"We didn't have to, but we wanted to. So deal with it, woman."

The air inside the Rodriguez house was warm, sweet with the aroma of chocolate chip cookies. Lynn and Elizabeth were seated at the kitchen table, side-by-side, backs turned to us. They seemed in deep conversation, but at the sound of the door clicking shut, they broke apart.

Lynn turned immediately, greeting the two of us with a smile. Elizabeth sat in place for a few moments, as Lynn stood and approached me and Benny.

"Merry Christmas!" the woman chirped, enveloping me in her arms the moment she reached me. She was only slightly taller than me, and her long, dark hair smelled of coconut.

"Merry Christmas," I smiled. When Lynn pulled away and met my eyes with her own, I noticed that the bags beneath her eyes were even darker than before.

Lynn laughed. "I can see you're tired." The same could be said for you, I thought. "I'm sorry I sent Benny for you so early. I know you don't like waking early."

"It's all right. It felt amazing to get to go back to sleep for a bit before we came."

"That's why you took so long?" Elizabeth entered the living room to greet me, eyes a bit brighter than usual. A smirk curved her lips. "I thought you two were . . . you know."

Benny's mouth dropped. "Liz!"

I sighed. "You guys do know that I'm a virgin, right?"

Elizabeth's brows rose in surprise, which was slightly offensive, and Lynn rolled her eyes, laughing. "All right," the woman sighed, "let's get to it."

The four of us gathered around the tree, and after wishing Jesus a happy birthday, we began to unwrap gifts. The horrifying bit began when Lynn handed me a long box covered in scarlet paper.

"Oh, no," I mumbled. "It's heavy."

"Who's it from?" Liz asked.

A small rectangular sticker read To: Makayla and From: Benny. I spoke his name aloud, suppressing a sigh.

Benny watched me with bright, excited eyes. In that moment, he looked so pure, with a grin decorating his shining face, his lower lip hooked between his teeth. A lock of his raven hair fell over his brow, nearly touching his long eyelashes. It took me a moment to tear my attention away from him, knowing that he was excited to watch my reaction to his gift.

Holding back a complaint, I tore the scarlet paper away, and the mystery was unlocked: A long box, colored a deep bronze; at the top was a line of book covers, indicating what was inside, and my heart skipped a beat.

"What?"

Benny laughed. "Do you like it?"

On one end of the box was the picture of a blond boy, kneeling on the ground, one hand on a sword stuck into the ground, and the other hovering over a card. Even if the words The Mortal Instruments were not printed across the box, I would have recognized the series immediately.

"How did you even know I wanted this?" I breathed, turning to face Benny with wide eyes and an open mouth.

"Luke told me you've been talking about how you wanted to read all of the books, so . . . here you go. You can read them all now."

For a moment, Benny and I were the only ones in the room. The box rested on the ground at my knees, and I flung myself at the boy, throwing my arms around his neck. His arms had already gone around my waist, and he laughed into my hair.

"Glad I brought you here now?" he joked.

Rather than responding verbally, I pressed my lips to his warm, smooth neck. Elizabeth gagged, and I finally pulled away from the hug. Liz was giggling, and Lynn was watching us with a bright, sad smile.

"I would have come up with some smart remark," I said to Benny, "but the truth is that I couldn't have woken up early enough for this. I can't think of anything I would have wanted more – anything, remember. And I already have you."

Benny laughed, looking extremely, genuinely pleased with himself. I'd never seen him look so proud, not even when he'd played a perfect game at the sandlot, never having missed the ball or a base.

"Thank you," I beamed, unable to contain my overwhelming excitement. And he was just so adorable, so devastatingly handsome, I pulled him into a hug again.

This time Benny pulled me into his lap. Lynn laughed, "I've never seen someone so excited for books. Guess you were right in choosing that for her. Sorry I tried to argue."

Benny peeked at his mother, eyes crinkled with a smile. "Told you I know her."

"You're cool for that, Kayla," Elizabeth said, poking me in the side – which only caused me to jerk away, breaking the hug to escape her finger. She met me with a smile. "I wish I could get excited like that over books. I've never seen something so . . . pure."

"That's saying a lot for Kayla," Benny added.

Scoffing, I smacked his arm. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Elizabeth smirked at me. "Oh, don't act like you're so innocent. You get into fights every other day, and – "

"All right, all right," Lynn broke in. "It's Christmas. Liz – this one's for you."

And the pattern continued. Benny had also bought me a few notebooks, knowing how I loved the write, and a necklace – an oval of thick crystal (surely it had to be fake) that threw colors in the light. He would not tell me the cost; he wouldn't even tell me how he had made all of the money.

Lynn, being the mother she was, had bought me a complete outfit – a black long-sleeved top that would shape to my figure, high-waisted jeans, and a pair of brown leather boots that reached my knees. The boots were soft and quite comfortable, to my surprise, and I loved the way they had to be laced up.

And Elizabeth had bought me one thing: a red dress that ended at the knees, with long sleeves, a v-neckline, and an open back. It was beautiful and elegant, yet simple – but I could never wear it. Elizabeth could pull it off, sure, but I . . .

"Liz," I sighed, holding the dress out to study it. "This is beautiful, but I don't think I could ever wear this. I don't have the body for it."

"You're kidding, right?" Elizabeth stared at me in disbelief. "Come on, you know how many people would kill to have your body? Myself included, by the way. Anyway, you can wear it, and you will. In two days."

A smile formed on Benny's mouth instantly. "Oh, yeah! I forgot to bring that up. Kayla, we go to this Christmas party kind of thing every year – and you're coming with us. So's your family."

"Oh, God," I mumbled, dropping the dress into my lap. "The last time I went to a Christmas party, I ended up singing. And if there's some kind of talent show, Benny, I swear I'm not doing it – "

"That's not it, you psycho," Benny laughed. "I just want you to be with me. And I want to see you in that dress."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't hold back my laughter.

point of view.

Of course, on the way to the Sullivan household, my thoughts wandered to the one Sullivan I tried to banish from my mind. In other words, the one whom I could not stop thinking about – ever.

I'd been expecting to see his face, and part of me cringed at the idea, but the other side of me knew that it was half of all I wanted. The other half of my desire was to go back to the way we used to be. Friends – best friends, even.

But it was Christmas. Luke and the anxiety that followed should have been the last thing on my mind . . . Or, at least, not the first thing on my mind.

Needless to say, when we entered the house and Luke was descending the staircase – shirtless – my heart ceased to beat. His hard, tanned skin, his dark hair perfectly mussed, his soft mouth parted slightly . . . it was all too much, and I had to turn my head.

"Wow," Makayla said, "you're up early."

"It's nine o'clock. Not that early."

"That's where I'll have to disagree," the girl responded. "Mom and Terry up?"

"They're getting up," Luke shrugged his shoulders – I didn't dare to look at them and their muscularity – continuing into the kitchen. "Why are you up so early?"

"Benny forced me."

The casual conversation continued, but all I could hear was Luke's voice. Not the words they spoke, but his voice. Mesmerizing, lulling, husky but smooth, perfect. I'd never known someone more perfect. And that was not a term I used lightly.

Mom went to sit on the couch, while Kayla and Benny went upstairs. And I, deciding to push myself on and do it, made my way into the kitchen.

Immediately I knew I'd made a horrible mistake.

There he stood, pulling a box of cereal from the top of the refrigerator, his shoulder blades pulling together. Although his waist was slim and narrow, he was muscular at the same time. I could imagine running my fingers down the smooth skin of his back, along the slight muscles that bulged on their own.

For the first time, though, I noticed a faint white scar that ran down his waist. However odd, perhaps it could spark a conversation.

"Where'd that scar come from?"

Luke froze, then turned slowly to face me. He set a box of Fruity Pebbles on the counter beside him, eyes sweeping over me and then focusing on the scar.

"Got in a car accident with some friends a while ago," Luke explained. I tried to keep my eyes away, but the stray lock of hair that fell over his brows gripped my attention.

He had still not looked up from the scar. Rather, he acted as though he were studying it, as if he had never truly acknowledged it before.

"Oh. Um . . . that sucks."

"Yeah."

Luke and I remained in place, awkwardly silent, until I decided that this was ridiculous. A sigh escaped my throat, and I crossed my arms, tearing my focus away from his features.

"We should talk about it."

The boy moved his gaze upward, but his eyes did not quite meet mine. "About what?"

"The kiss," I whispered.

Luke's eyes rested upon my lips for a fleeting moment before fluttering shut. "We agreed we would forget it."

"No, we didn't." I moved forward, only to sit down at the kitchen table. Luke stood a few feet away, leaning against the counter, eyes closed. "You suggested it. But I never agreed to it."

"Why?" His eyes were still closed, but it was clear that he was straining to keep them that way.

I shook my head, pressing my cool fingers to my forehead. "I'm sorry I did it. I didn't even know what I was doing until it was done. There was no preparation, no plan. No intention. No goal. It was a mistake. But . . . if you didn't have a girlfriend . . . I wouldn't be sorry."

Luke's eyes opened then, but I was no longer looking at him. "What does that mean?" he whispered.

"It means – " I gasped, cutting myself off. Should I? Sighing, I folded my arms on the table and buried my face into them. "I think I love you."

The silence dragged on for so long, I almost suspected Luke had slipped out of the kitchen. And I didn't dare to look up. If he still stood in place, there was no way I could face his horror. But then he spoke.

"I love you, too, Liz." The words sent a shock down my spine and forced my heart to skip several beats. "You're my best friend."

Oh.

"You'll always be my best friend," he sighed – and I could imagine the boy running his fingers through his hair. "Even if stuff like this happens, you know . . . It might be awkward for a little while, but we got through it once, didn't we? We're human – we make mistakes, and I think that maybe you just gave into some . . . emotion that you took in the wrong way."

Only the embarrassment kept me from responding. I wanted to ask him what he meant, because I truly did not understand, but he continued anyway.

"You know what I mean?" He sighed. "You probably felt some emotion for me, but it wasn't, like, what you thought it was. Like you kind of fooled yourself into it – "

Luke's words only confused me further, although I did understand what he was trying to say. That I felt love for him, but I had mistaken it for romantic love. For attraction.

Suddenly my head shot up, and I glared at Luke. "I meant that I'm in love with you, idiot."

He met my eyes now. And his every feature softened. There was something angelic about him. Heavenly.

"You are?" his mouth shaped the words – his voice escaped like a whoosh of air, silent and incomprehensible.

Attempting – unsuccessfully – to swallow back the lump in my throat, all I could do was nod.

Luke swallowed deeply, too. A few moments passed before his voice returned him. By then, I had averted my gaze to the window. To the bright morning sunlight pouring into the kitchen, gleaming on the dark-wood floor and marble counters.

"You can't feel that way, Elizabeth. Not about me."

"Why not?" I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest and frowning at the window. I was trying not to cry; not only had I confessed my feelings, but I had just admitted them to myself aloud. And of course he didn't feel the same way. How could he?

"Because . . . we're, like . . ." Luke sighed, breaking off. No words found him, no sort of explanation.

"I'm not asking you to love me back," I said, forcing all emotion from my voice. "Not like that. I'm just asking that you don't expect me to forget about it. About any of it. Because I can't, and I won't. If I could, maybe I would, but I can't, so. . . ." I released a ragged breath. "And it's your fault, you know. You made me feel this way."

Luke's lips pursed, and then he spoke in a low voice: "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

I shook my head, running my tongue over my teeth. Of course he hadn't intended to.

"But I don't want this to change everything," I sighed. "All I'm really asking is that you try not to look at me much differently. I know it'll be hard, but if you could do it . . . if you could just keep being my friend . . . I promise I'll never mention it again."

Silence. And then:

"Okay."

My eyes remained on the window. On anything but him, anything but him. From the corner of my eye, though, I caught the movement – Luke moved toward me, and I sucked in a breath, closing my eyes. The light did not vanish.

Luke stopped in his tracks. He must have taken the reaction for a warning. Even I didn't understand my own reaction, but when I heard his footsteps, light and quick, leaving the kitchen, I released a breath. Relief?

The box of Fruity Pebbles rested on the counter where he had left it, and I felt a pang at my chest. I should not have bothered him.

Two pairs of quick footsteps hurried down the stairs – probably Benny and Makayla. A few tears escaped my sore eyes, and I wiped them away furiously. I'd cried more than enough for one morning. Of course, things only piled up on my shoulders – The weight was beginning to truly crush me. I could almost feel the cracks fissuring my bones.

The weight of the world would have been more durable than this. The weight of the world would have fit upon my shoulders like a small child.

But in the living room, my little brother and his girlfriend were calling me, and so I dried my eyelashes and shadowed my face with blankness.

Mom sat on the couch, staring at me with her deep, knowing eyes. Immediately I knew that she had overheard. I shook my head, and sat down on the floor beside the two youngest.

The rest of the Sullivans had begun to descend the staircase. I would have to tell Mom about Luke later.

♡

1) i finished 'my mad fat diary' earlier, and i love it so much. also, can i just say that nico mirallegro is actually perfect