Page 12 of The Detour

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Never mind.” He gives me a half-cocked smirk that owns every part of me before he moves down the length of the bar top where a trio of college-age girls giggle and bat their lashes at him while he takes their order.

Jealousy flares.

Even more so when he glances my way and knows that I see him flirting with them.

That could have been me. Still in school, still coming here and hanging on every one of Luke’s words, and passing up the once in a lifetime opportunity.

But I couldn’t. Dreams are there to chase for a reason.

Too bad I had hoped he’d chase them with me.

When I look up, there is a group of women with sorority sweatshirts on, talking to Saint. I do a double take, startled by the sight and the similarity to what I was just writing.

I stare for a beat and my breath catches when Saint looks my way and smiles. “You good?” he mouths the words.

I nod quickly in response before averting my eyes back to my screen, embarrassed as if he knows I’m writing about him.

But a slow smile slides onto my lips as I realize I’m writing. Actually writing.

How did I not see this plot all along? How did I not realize how Luke was pushing Sophie away because he knew with one word from him, she’d stay in that Podunk town and never chase her dreams? How did I not see that he truly believed in her and her talent and was simply doing what was best for her? How did I not understand he was hurting her so she wouldn’t blame him later for it?

And more than anything, how did I not see that he’s smiling through the pain because he still truly loves her?

The adrenaline hits. It’s been months since I’ve felt the high of finally understanding my story and wanting to write like the wind. Of worrying that I won’t be able to type as fast as my thoughts fly.

So simple, and yet it felt like I was trying to prove Einstein's Theory of General Relativity over the past few months.

I mumble thanks to Vix when she slides my plate of food next to me, but don’t look away from the screen as I build the scene. One word upon another until the sexual tension is so thick the reader will all but beg for it to be broken.

“What’s your problem, Luke?” I ask as he strides past me. The air is full of sounds and thick with the scents of the annual town carnival. The same carnival we shared our first kiss five years ago. “Hey. I’m talking to you,” I shout after him, but he keeps walking as if he can’t hear me. As if he doesn’t care and that hurts even worse.

It’s been a week since I’ve been back, and if there’s a way for him to avoid me, he’s made sure to find it

I should take the hint that we really are over. I should let go of the hope I’ve been holding close to my heart. And yet, I keep remembering the way he looked at me in the bar that first night back to town.

I know he still loves me.

Without giving it a second thought, I jog after him behind the Main Street Feed Store.

“Luke. Luke!” I shout until he stops and turns to face me. The muscle in his jaw twitches as the moonlight washes over his face and my heart falls to the ground.

Tears threaten, but I force myself to push them away.

“Why do you hate me?” I ask him, my voice so very quiet.

“I don’t hate you. I never have.” He takes a step toward me.

“Then why can’t you just be happy for me? Why can’t you be nice?” I all but beg and hate the desperation in my voice.

“I am being nice.”

“That’s bullshit. You’ve done everything you can to push me away or avoid me over the past week. You’ve purposefully—”

I go to grab his arm as he strides past me, and before I can process one heartbeat to the next, Luke has me spun around and pinned to the wall of the building behind me. His hands tighten on my wrists as he stares at me in a frustrated anger I’ve never seen from him before.

“Don’t push me, Sophie,” he grits out.