Work Text:
Julie doesn’t like going out on Thursdays.
Her Friday mornings are jam packed and start at nine, which, seemingly doesn’t sound that bad, but you only need to go to class drunk once to know that you never want to do it again. The issue always is that Flynn's queen of the Thursday night scene, and Julie’s rarely done anything in her life without Flynn, so she’s not about to start letting Flynn have all the fun without her.
Every week Julie decides she’s not going out that night. Flynn gives her those big, brown puppy dog eyes, and Julie feels her confidence waver, but brings up all the reading she has to do for her Chaucer and Shakespeare classes – so, no, she can’t make it this week. Flynn never stops there, and Julie always feels guilty about making an excuse.
Flynn brings up how much fun she has (or how she might get to see Nick – or hot guy of the week – or how she promises she’ll ride the bull) when she goes out, and Julie’s always had a severe case of FOMO. Then, she gets to thinking about how much fun she had last Thursday (which wasn’t all that fun, but who doesn’t romanticize the past) – and before she knows it, it's nine o’clock – she and Flynn are standing in their underwear – hair half done, and ripping shots in preparation for their night out.
Ten-thirty comes with last minute touches, the resounding shout of the Uber’s here!!, a mad dash out the door, down the stairs, and through the parking lot to get to the car.
They’re both more than a little drunk, and Flynn can’t stop anticipating what’s going to happen tonight – Flynn has her heart set on dancing with the cute guy from her computer science class, and Julie’s hoping that Nick from English has finally broken up with his girlfriend, so that she can chat him up.
She doubts that happened because Carrie would never-ever not cause a scene, but a girl can dream.
Flynn keeps mentioning who all is going to be there – and Julie’s listening, but she’s looking out at the city – how the yellow lights of the buildings compliment the cool purple hues of night. She looks down at herself and wonders if the sheer black sparkly shirt was the move – especially with this fall weather – which, still after three years of going to school on the East Coast, she is not used to.
She’s sure it’s fine, though. Flynn told her that she looked hot before they left in a rush, and if being a little chilly is the price she has to pay for looking like you should be on the cover of Vogue, or something – for real, Julie I am not kidding, well, it’s a price she’s willing to pay.
The ride there takes a little longer than usual – leave it to city traffic, you know – and the girls waste no time exiting the car and heading into the bar. There’s a nice little outside area on the ground floor that Julie likes – the bite of the cold air on her skin steadies her in the moment. She looks over at Flynn – looking pretty with her long braids, vibrant red shirt, black miniskirt and big, clunky boots.
The music is loud, even if it is only from inside, “C’mon – let’s grab a drink.”
Flynn orders a rum and coke (and, with a wink, she looks over at Julie and says, “Always classy, baby.” Julie giggles into her hand.) Julie orders a blue drink because it’s Thursday and why not. It’s sweet and fun and she hopes a nice refection of the night she’s going to have. They get their drinks in no time and find themselves situated at a nice spot on the dance floor – it’s not too crowded yet, as people are still filling in – but that doesn’t stop Julie and Flynn from dancing and singing along with the music.
For all the fuss she puts up in order to not go out, Julie always has found that she hasn’t really ever had a bad night out (there was that one time when Flynn tried to set her up with what she thought was a hot guy while she chatted up a sexy lacrosse player from their rival school – the guy was not hot, to say the least. It’s a running joke for them to take selfies together when they run into him, though). Julie likes getting out, dancing along to loud pulsating songs, singing along with strangers. It’s fun to just be for a little while – even if it is a Thursday night and she's definitely not worried about missing her nine a.m.
The floor grows crowded; Julie and Flynn have to fight for their place on the dance floor, but Flynn isn’t really complaining – the cute computer science guy is right behind her and Julie is sure to let her know that he’s looking in their direction. Flynn takes a sip of her drink and gets her moves on.
Julie grabs her hand and does a little spin, looking up at the bright lights on the ceiling and lets out a deep laugh.
They finish their drinks, then hurry back to the now crowded bar to grab another – then rush back to the dance floor, not wanting to miss a minute of the excitement. They make friends with the girls next to them – it’s one of their birthdays, and Flynn – always the excitable one – alerts the DJ; Before she makes it back to their little makeshift group, the DJ’s got a fun little birthday remix playing.
They stay like that for a while - Julie, Flynn and the other girls, until two of them split to use the bathroom and the other two are engaged in a really heated discussion about potential lovers and plans to secure said potential lovers. She looks at them – one with the birthday crown in a cute grey tie-up shirt, and the other in a crop top that is best described as a discoball-esque (Julie loves it) – and thinks of herself and Flynn – that’s shit they do together.
Female friendship really does seem to have a little universal string, huh.
She doesn’t have time to focus for too long, though, because before she knows it, she hears the first notes of Icona Pop’s “I Love It,” and Flynn grips her hand iron tight and pulls her closer to the center of the floor –
“Oh my God – Remember this song?” she yells, clearly thinking about how they used to scream along to it during car rides with her Dad.
Julie decides to answer by singing the words loudly near Flynn’s face – they’re both jumping and singing. Julie takes another sip of her drink, relishing the chill – dancing really makes you work up a sweat.
The song transitions into another, and Flynn is flagging down some one – “Willie –“ Flynn yells, waving, because she probably knows he can’t hear her over the music, “Come dance with us!”
“Hey,” he says, once he reaches them.
Flynn immediately engulfs him in a hug. He looks a little surprised – Julie mouths sorry – and he laughs.
There’s immediate small talk, or as much small talk one can muster yelling over the music. They dance a little bit, and Willie does his best to try and get the girls to head next door to watch his boyfriend’s band play – apparently they’re pretty big in the local scene, but Julie’s a little drunk, and the drinks here are cheap - plus she’s having a fun time dancing already; she does't really want to go anywhere else.
“Next time,” she says.
“Next time,” he agrees, “I’ll even let you guys know when their next gig is, so you’ll have no choice but to plan around it.”
“Sounds like a deal,” Flynn says. They dance a little bit more; Willie checks the time and notices that the band’s set is about to begin, so he heads out, leaving Julie and Flynn on the dance floor.
Julie goes to take another sip of her drink, and notices she’s empty – Flynn looks up and they share a knowing look –
“To the bar!” Julie declares.
Julie isn’t sure how the passage of time changes whenever she’s out, but one second she’s at the bar getting drinks with Flynn, and the next they’re dancing, and she checks the time on her phone and it’s nearly one in the morning. She’s more than a little drunk, but knows from experience that if she doesn’t leave now, tomorrow will not be kind to her.
She and Flynn leave leisurely – Julie does her best to take in as much as the evening as she can. They snake their way through flushed, sweaty bodies, weirdly lit rooms, and strangely spread out groups of people before they make it outside.
The autumn air clings to her sweaty skin – she shivers immediately, and looks over at her friend, who is doing the same. Julie pulls down her miniskirt, thinking that adjusting it an inch will surely keep the heat in, even if her legs are mostly bare, and her shirt has about the same purpose as a window screen.
“Wanna wait in 7/11?” She asks Flynn.
“Uh, yes please.”
They enter the store and are met with immediate warmth. If Julie lets out a little noise, no one comments on it. She orders the Uber, which is about 20 minutes out, so the girls roam the isles of 7/11 for water and snacks.
They check out, then drink their water and demolish the snacks by the door. By the time they finish, the Uber’s three minutes away, and they decide to brave the cold. Flynn’s getting herself situated when Julie sees the car pull up.
“C’mon! he’s here; we gotta go!”
They race out of the 7/11; Julie’s got her eyes on the car, and the car only – doing that cute little half run that her brother always makes fun of her for, but not paying attention means that she’s not expecting to run into something solid. She’s not expecting to fall down, and she sure as hell isn’t expecting the thing she ran into to be a man – let alone a really handsome, sturdy one – she lets out an indignant yelp as she crashes to the ground
“Oh my god,” she says, mortified as he offers to help her up – “I’m so sorry.” She brushes her skirt down and does her best to quickly get the dirt off herself.
“It’s fine, really,” he says – and that’s when she looks at him – pretty, brown eyes meet her own – she gulps, taking in his face – the pretty little freckles on his nose, the sharp and gentle angles of his cheeks and jaw, the kind, concerned look on his face, the way his brows squeeze together, the way his hair peeks out from under his hat, held against his forehead with tiny beads of sweat; he’s talking but she’s not listening – she’s too drunk for this – for running into a ridiculously handsome guy on the street – literally running into him, “ - just wanna make sure you’re alright.”
“Yeah. Yeah – I’m fine. Thanks, really –“
“Julie –“ Flynn yells, as she stands right next to the car, “Let’s go!”
She looks up at the guy again – “I’m so sorry; I gotta –“
He nods, a bright, kind smile on his face, and Julie finishes getting herself together then awkwardly says goodbye. She rushes over to the car, and as she’s opening the door, she turns to look behind her and notices him waving – she waves back.
She gets in the car, closes the door, and drives away – a Dua Lipa song plays on the radio.
The car ride back to campus is quiet. Flynn makes small talk with the driver, but Julie keeps to herself – eyes fixed on the skyline again and thoughts centered around the handsome stranger from the street.
She can’t stop thinking about his eyes – their color, their evident concern.
He seemed sweet – even though she was a total klutz and their interaction lasted all of three minutes.
Too bad she won’t ever see him again.
The next day is rough. Julie wakes with bruises on her knees and a wicked hangover. She trudges to class, sleep still in her eyes. She looks kind of put together, but not put together enough to escape the pitying gaze of her friend, Roxanne, in her Chaucer class.
She doesn’t fall asleep in class, though – and that’s what matters.
When class lets out, she heads straight for the Starbucks on campus, where she usually meets her friend, Jo, and they go over the notes and readings for their poetry class. They usually ignore the work part and just talk about stupid shit – like Jo’s crazy roommates, or Nick and Carrie, or literally – anything other than schoolwork.
It’s a nice break.
She’s sitting at a table with Jo, and they’re talking about their nights (Jo opted to stay in; Julie’s a little jealous – that is until she remembers how she acquired the bruises on her knees.)
“I am so embarrassed,” Julie says, but then leans across the table; Jo joins in as well, her pink hair curtains her face, “but, he was also the hottest guy I have ever seen, so I’m not like, that sorry.”
“Last time you said that you were drunk, and he was not hot. Like at all.”
“Ha-ha. Very funny,” she deadpans, sitting back, “I wasn’t that drunk.”
“I hope not. All I heard from you and Flynn was how hot Eagles Man was for a week straight, then we finally ran into him and he was like, completely hideous.”
“Yes, but –“
“No buts, Julie; you know I’m right.”
“Fine,” she admits with a sigh, “but like – I swear – he was the prettiest man – like, it should be illegal to look as stupid cute as he did.”
“Alright,” Jo shrugs, “I believe you.”
The conversation pauses, then: “Did I tell you about what Sharky was up to last night?”
She starts telling her story – Julie has never been happier to not live in the building Jo lives in – she goes on about poorly rehearsed jazz band, people screaming along to John Denver at four in the morning, dance practice happening in the room above her – reminding Julie why she’s adamant about living on the top floor –
Then suddenly there’s Flynn, scraping a chair across the floor to join them.
“Jesus, can you be any louder?” Julie complains affectionately. Flynn gives her a look she’s all too familiar with – answering her question immediately.
“Anyway,” Flynn settles in her chair, “I’ve got news.”
“Ooo, Spill!” Jo says.
Flynn recounts their night, and Jo’s a trooper for sitting through it again – Julie likes to be concise. Flynn spares no details – it’s almost scary how much stuff she picks up on and remembers; Julie couldn’t tell you what she ate this morning, let alone what time she ran into Caroline from philosophy’s ex-girlfriend in the bathroom last night.
But, some of the stuff adds to the big news that she has – most importantly, she got the cute computer science guy’s phone number – and they’ve been texting, which is very exciting. And secondly, Willie has already texted her – not a gig, but he’s having a party Saturday night, and he’s invited them all to stop by.
“He really wants us to meet his boyfriend –“ Flynn pulls out the eyes again – not that they’re needed. Julie’s totally on board. Saturday night at her friend’s house a block from campus means saving money – plus it’ll be nice to hang with him and have a more low-key Saturday.
“I’m down,” Julie says.
“I’ll be there. I haven’t seen Willie in, like, eons.”
“I’m so excited!” Flynn says – “I’m gonna let him know we’re coming.”
The text is sent, and conversation flows onto bigger and better things.
The rest of Friday passes without much excitement. Flynn and Julie mostly lay low – opting to stay in and get some work done (although, it’s mostly them opening books, then talking for two hours – at one point they delve into the box of wine in the fridge, so work gets abandoned in lieu of doing a drunk re-watch of “The Notebook;” it’s less fun than you would think).
Saturday is much the same – Julie wakes up to cloudy, grey skies and the sound of rain thundering against the windowpanes in her room. She and Flynn opt out of walking across campus for breakfast and instead attempt to make blueberry pancakes. They’re a little too thick – Julie makes a mental note for next time – add more liquid.
The rain (along with the thought of doing work on Sunday) help motivate them both to get some work done. Julie gets most of her reading done, and gets a head start on one of her English papers, making a nice outline as to what she’s going to write about. She calls her brother and they catch up for a little while – she hadn’t talked to him in a while and was curious to see how Tía Victoria annoyed him and Dad this week –
Carlos delves into some crazy story – and Julie can picture it as she looks down at her cluttered desk. She loves her school – she loves her friends, and she really likes being on the East coast; going away from home is something that she needed to do after everything with her mom, after dropping her high-school’s music program, and the fall out. It’s just – sometimes she misses home – the chaos of her family, of Carlos covering for her, and her dad’s disappointed (yet amused) glances – he never could stay mad at her for long. She misses the feel of her mother’s piano under her fingertips – and wonders sometimes if she hadn’t passed away – maybe Julie wouldn’t be so focused on the sleek, black clacking keys of a computer, type-type-typing her life away – essay after essay, poem after poem. Maybe she’d still be with the graceful keys of the piano – whimsical and inviting.
She misses home sometimes. Misses what could have been.
But – Flynn’s here, just like Flynn’s always been there. And despite everything, Julie’s in a really good place right now. She’s having fun, she’s making friends, she loves what she’s studying, and she loves her school – even if the weather is a little bit nippy.
By the time she gets off the phone – it’s dinner time; the rain has let up for the moment and Julie and Flynn decide to make the journey across campus to get to the dining hall, where they meet up with Jo and her girlfriend, Georgia.
The food is nothing to write home about, but Julie’s too excited to meet Willie’s boyfriend (finally! After weeks upon weeks upon weeks of hearing about this cute drummer who might like him back and the subsequent will they-wont they conversations with her friends) to mind.
They don’t waste time eating and do their best to race the rain back to Julie and Flynn’s apartment. They beat the heavy downpour, but the rain still comes. Julie’s glad she wore her rain jacket – Flynn tested fate and did not come out on top.
The elevator ride up and walk through the hallway to their apartment is full of Flynn trying to figure out what to wear – nothing fancy, as it’s a house party, but also she’s assuming the rest of Willie’s boyfriend’s band will be there, and even if she is texting cute computer science guy – she still wants to look good.
“They’re in a band, Jules – a band. A band that writes their own songs and you know what? I wouldn’t mind being a muse.”
Julie rolls her eyes, “You are ridiculous.”
“And you are not – I repeat – not showing up in those ‘fancy’ sweats you have.”
“First of all,” she says, unlocking the door, “they are not sweats. I don’t know what they’re called but they are not sweatpants.” They walk through the doorway; Julie continues, “and second of all: I am wearing them, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Jo stifles a laugh as Flynn throws a dangerous look Julie’s way.
The girls stare each other down for a moment; Jo and Georgia look on in anticipation. Then:
“Fine.”
“Good.”
“But I get to wear your snake earrings.”
“You are literally wearing them now.”
“That’s why I’m telling you.”
“Fine,” Julie says, “I’m gonna go get ready then.”
She enters her room, and closes the door, digging through her drawers to find the top.
“You’re wearing that black body suit, right?” Flynn yells from her room.
“Yes!”
“Good!”
Julie dresses herself quickly; she can hear Jo and her girlfriend entertaining themselves in the kitchen, and hears Flynn singing along to Doja Cat from the room over.
She assesses herself in the mirror – long sleeve, square neck bodysuit, adorned by her usual choker and necklace from her mother, the high waisted salmon pink not-quite sweatpants, and her favorite clunky white sneakers. She opens her door, then starts doing her makeup quickly – nothing too exciting. A neutral shimmer on the eye, some light eyeliner and mascara and a dash of clear lip gloss. She fixes her hair, ties it up off her neck – makes sure she likes the way the curls sit, then throws on a jean jacket – she’d wear the rain jacket, but Flynn does have a point about boys in bands; she’s not throwing off the look just to stay dry.
She then remembers umbrellas exist and becomes considerably less concerned.
She meets Jo and Georgia in the kitchen and takes the half empty bottle of vodka out of the freezer, gets the shot glasses ready, and waits for Flynn to emerge from her room. She waits a few minutes before yelling, claiming that they’re going to start drinking without her.
“Jeez, I’m ready. I’m here,” she says as she rushes into the kitchen, speaker still blasting Doja Cat in hand.
Jo pours the shots, and they all drink – the liquor burns Julie’s throat, but it is what it is. They dance around the kitchen for about twenty minutes and take another shot – then they’re out the door. Umbrella clad and excited, they walk a block up the street to Willie’s house.
From the street, they can see the colored lights in the windows – the blues and greens light up the dark street. There’s a faint sound of music leaking from the cracks under the door, between the windows; they arrive on the porch step – the music now more than faint, but loud and pulsating as Flynn texts Willie to let him know they’ve arrived. Georgia rings the doorbell, which they all agree is in vain, but sometimes doorbells are just asking to be pressed. Not a second later, Willie’s greeting them at the door, and they’re let in.
Once inside, he gives them all a hug and lets them know how happy he is that they were able to make it. They follow him into the kitchen, where he offers them a drink – Julie and Georgia grab beers, and Flynn and Jo each mix up a quick little vodka drink.
“So, when do we get to meet Alex,” Julie asks, teasingly.
Willie blushes, but covers it up with a cute laugh, “He’s in the basement doing a little set with the guys – c’mon, follow me.”
They follow Willie down to the basement; Julie walks by a lot of people she’s met in passing and a lot of people she doesn’t know on her way down –
There are more people than she expected in the basement, but it’s not too crowded. It’s dark but shrouded in bright green light. The walls are covered in posters, and there’s a makeshift stage in the corner of the room, where a couple of shitty amps are set up and the band is playing. It's loud, and the sound is a little funky, but they’re good – a nice 90's sound that reminds Julie of Green Day but with a little more pop. Willie points out Alex – the blond-haired drummer in the back. Alex is looking out – sees Willie and does his best to wave.
“You guys are too cute,” Georgia yells over the music; Willie laughs, then proceeds to introduce the other two guys on stage –
Reggie’s the one on the left, flannel around his waist, black skinny jeans and red bass in hand. Willie warns that he’s a flirt – as if on cue, Reggie notices Willie and the girls and throws them a wink. The girls laugh – Willie rolls his eyes.
Then, Willie points out Luke – and Julie nearly has a heart attack – because right in front of her is the guy she plowed into two nights ago on the street – here he is: guitar in his arms, stupid cut-off Rush tee-shirt that shows off his muscles, the wispy ends of his hair in his face, and rings on his fingers. His eyes are closed as he sings into the mic – pretty and alluring. Julie can’t stop looking at him. And then he opens his eyes – he catches her staring; he has the decency to look surprised, but the audacity to smile at her.
Suddenly Julie’s buzz isn’t enough; she takes a long sip of her beer, then she turns to Flynn and Jo –
“That’s the guy,” she says; they look back at her with blank faces, “The fucking guy I ran into on Thursday.”
“Jesus, Julie; you weren’t kidding.”
“Holy shit,” Georgia murmurs
“I am not drunk enough for this –“
“We’re Sunset Curve,” Luke says, still looking at Julie and their little group, “tell your friends!”
They put their instruments down; some people in the basement head upstairs, others stay, chatting absentmindedly.
“C’mon –“ Willie says, and Julie knows she has no choice but to follow. Before she moves, she chugs the rest of her drink – Jo gives her a look; Julie almost laughs. This is unfathomable; things like this don’t happen in real life –
And yet – here she is, standing with her friends behind Willie as he introduces them all to Alex – sweet and smiling and a tiny bit shy. Reggie is more abrasive – in a fun, easy going kind of way, He’s flirty, outgoing and even tries to hit on Jo; she laughs as Georgia defends her honor. Then there’s Luke –
Luke, she thinks – a name to a face. He’s prettier than she remembers – maybe it’s because she’s not obliterated, or because she’s not on the ground or running to catch an Uber or because the world isn’t spinning. His hair still wisps at the ends, covering his forehead and going just below his ears. He’s shrouded in green light, but she can see the faint shine of sweat on his skin. His eyes are as big and brown as ever – and she finds herself being stuck, fixated on his arms –
She feels an elbow in her side, looks over to swat Flynn on the arm, but then realizes someone’s talking to her or about her –
“and this is Julie,” Willie finishes. The guys wave – and then -
“I think we’ve met,” Luke says, looking at her intently, “Yeah… Thursday – right outside 7/11!”
Julie does her best to stop her blush. Luckily, the light counteracts the deep rosy color of her cheeks for the most part; she’s trying to think of way where she can play this off cool – like their interaction was just one in passing – not one she has continued to think about in a twisted sense of dread and fascination. She makes a face, hopefully signaling that she did not recognize him right away – she notices the disappointment on his face, almost crestfallen; she doesn’t have the heart to lie – she’s never been a good liar, anyway – good at pranks, but usually honest.
“Oh my God!” she interjects, lamely, noticing that Flynn, Alex and Willie have started to make their way upstairs and that Georgia, Jo, and Alex have moved away – entranced in deep conversation based on Jo’s gesticulations, “Yes, Thursday was... a night.”
“I figured,” he says cheekily, she shoots him a little glare – fully not intending any malice. He seems to understand and offers a little smile – Julie laughs; “I never even asked if you were okay!”
“Just a little bruise – I’ll survive.”
“Good – I think Willie would kill me if I hurt the talent.”
He laughs now – hearty and deep. Julie blinks, “Probably. Although, Reggie might be more of an immediate threat; he takes the band’s safety very seriously.”
“Noted. Will keep that in mind in case I drunkenly run into you again on a Thursday night.”
He smiles again, and Julie melts. They chat for a little while longer – he asks about how she met Willie (It’s a long story, as most stories involving Flynn are), but he recalls in kind how they came to meet – something about Alex hiding the secret boyfriend because he liked the drama and the mystery. Alex had said something about having errands to run, so Luke and Reggie headed down to scope out the Art museum, and they ended up in the same exhibit as Willie and Alex –
“It looked like that Spiderman meme – you know, we’re all just pointing at each other, like ‘it’s you!’ Willie was like, ‘Dude you haven’t told them about me?’ and then they had a stupid cute moment and Reggie and I we’re like, “aight, time to head out.’ So, we left and came back to work on some music or something, I don’t remember, and when Alex showed up, Willie was there too and we all just, kind of clicked.”
“I, like, vaguely remember hearing about this,” Julie says, “Flynn didn’t let him live it down –“
Speaking of Flynn, she comes barreling down the steps, pausing at the post halfway down.
“Yo, Julie, Luke! We’re doing shots!”
Julie and Luke share a glance, then both hastily make for the stairs. They follow Flynn up to the kitchen, where everyone’s waiting for them.
“Alex made Green Tea shots!” Georgia shouts; Jo and Alex are passing the glasses around; Julie hands hers to Luke, and he smiles as Alex hands her another. They toast – to chance meetings – Julie tries not to dwell on it as she knocks the drink back.
Julie notices the half empty bottle of coffee vodka on the counter and pours herself another shot for the hell of it, a glass slides next to hers and she feels someone beside her as she pours over the kitchen counter. She fills it up, then looks over and sees Luke. She smiles, putting the bottle down, grabbing the two shot glasses, and handing him one.
She holds up her glass with a silly little look on her face, they clink glasses, then drink. It’s not as smooth as the Green Tea shot, but she likes the sensation – the sting, the warmth. Luke makes a face; she can’t hide her giggles.
“I’m a fruity drink kind of guy, what can I say?”
To chance meetings.
Julie spends most of the night with Luke; he picks her as his pong partner – which, as he comes to learn, was a mistake, but it’s fun, losing with him; they take part in an epic Just Dance battle – Julie wins, barely – with Alex coming in a close second then Flynn in third. Luke takes the rear – she thinks being out of breath is worth seeing his stupid pouty face. They sit on the couch in the living room, watching Willie, Reggie, Jo and some other girl try to chug their beer before they finish a Mario Kart race –
Luke is nice – really. He’s twenty-three, graduated last year with a music degree, but has been playing in the band with the guys since he was seventeen – they’ve got a pretty big local following, and they’re working on their first record now, which is pretty cool. He likes the color green, taking the Oreo cookie apart before eating it, and the number four. Julie tells him about herself as well: she’s studying English and writing, she’s from Sunny California; that her favorite drinks are fruity and she’s sad to have let Carrie Underwood down, that she likes purple, sunny autumn afternoons, and the smell after rain.
They talk about how stupid their friends are, and how much they love them – Julie, in her drunk stupor, gets way to into an analysis of All Quiet on the Western Front – specifically when Kat and Paul are sharing that goose –
“They’re gay? Okay? Paul is in love with Kat – he says as much – and then, at then at the end when Kat gets shot or something, and Paul doesn’t even realize that Kat’s dead –“
She’s sure Luke doesn’t really know what she’s going on about, but he listens.
He listens.
She gets his number, watches him put her contact in his phone with a little purple heart next to it, then she is promptly told by Jo that they’re getting ready to leave. He walks her up to the door and they make their goodbyes, as the girls gather in the doorway. They wish everyone a goodnight, give quick hugs in thanks, then usher themselves out the door. Julie’s sandwiched between Flynn and Jo, as they make their way off the porch and down the stoop. She looks back and meets Luke’s gaze –
He smiles again.
She smiles back.
The autumn air bites bitterly, but she doesn’t seem to mind.
Julie wakes up the next day with a hangover and three texts from a number she doesn’t have saved – it’s Luke – asking of she made it home alright. Her heart feels light, hammering in her chest as she types out her response – yes! Sorry passed out immediately lol – and from there, the seeds of conversation have sprouted.
Even if it is seven-thirty in the morning, and she only gets up to get a glass of water.
The week passes; she and Luke keep texting, and once again, Flynn tries to get Julie to go out on a Thursday. This time, Julie really does have to decline – she’s got an exam first thing the next morning and it counts for a decent percent of her grade – she can’t really afford to skimp out on studying.
Which is how she finds herself in the library – not trusting herself to be around Flynn right now, because she knows that she will be persuaded into going out; she knows herself and knows from experience.
She’s only just started going through her notes when her phone buzzes. Against her better judgement, she checks the notification – and it’s Luke; he’s complaining about how he’s exhausted the creative juices out of every inch of his and the band’s shared apartment; it’s not conductive of creativity, as he puts it.
Julie gets it – and says as much. There’s only so much migration you can do when you’re trying to write something; some places are better than others, and sometimes even the new places grow old. After about five minutes of neglecting her studies and conversing with Luke about how sometimes some walls just make you want to scream, she gets the idea of asking him to join her in the library –
It’s a different environment, it’s quiet; she’s got her own work to do, and he’s got songs to write – plus, she think’s it’ll be nice to hang out with someone, put her FOMO at ease a little bit.
(If that someone happens to be the hot guy she plowed into by chance last week outside 7/11, well, that’s just a bonus.)
About fifteen minutes later, Luke shows up – tattered notebook in hand and looking like a lost puppy as Julie greets him in the lobby and shows him to the room where she’s been studying. They chat idly as they make their way back – Julie suddenly feels as though she should be a little more dressed up – Luke’s in jeans and another one of his stupid sleeveless shirts – which, isn’t the fanciest outfit ever, but it’s better than her aesthetically ripped blue sweatpants and her fuzzy Sherpa – and that’s not even covering the rats nest that is her hair at the moment, piled high on her head and out of the way.
She probably smells, too.
C’est la vie, or whatever it is the French say.
When they make it to the room, she immediately tries to tidy her notes and books and papers out – she didn’t realize that she basically had taken over the entirety of the tabletop, leaving Luke with minimal space to work –
“Sorry,” she piles her handouts in a messy, dogeared pile, “everything’s everywhere – I thrive in organized chaos.”
“You’re fine, really; there was plenty of room before.”
She shoots him a look; they’ve really only just met, but she knows when he’s talking shit, and he knows when to look sheepish. “Okay – maybe you’re right; it wasn’t a big deal though – and I stand by that.”
She takes her seat, “Well, it’s done now.” She watches him sit down across from her, open his notebook so it's flat on the table, then pull a pen out from his back pocket. She looks down at her hastily scrawled notes, picks up her pink highlighter, which is on its last leg, off the table, pops in her headphones and unpauses Britney Spears, and lets out a heavy sigh as “3” begins before delving back into her notes.
(She doesn’t see Luke look up, form a little question shape with his mouth, or the way he decides against asking it – instead, bringing his pen onto paper and decidedly scribbling some words down).
They work quietly for about an hour, then Julie decides she needs a break – there’s only so much Middle English a girl can handle – she takes her music out of her ears, and looks over at Luke, eyes closed, humming a patchwork-melody, pen idly dangling from his mouth. He seems to have a Eureka! moment and partakes in some cartoonish action and says, “Got it!” just a little too loudly before hunching over his notebook and writing whatever it was he just thought of down.
She looks on, silly little grin on her face – there’s nothing like watching a song come to life – the little bursts of creativity and genius come between those of frustration and patience. Seeing people in their element like that – seeing Luke like that - makes her think of her mom and the way she would sit in her studio and write for hours on end, as Julie would sit on the Piano bench and just relish being in her company. It’s a happy memory.
Luke seems to notice – he’s got another sheepish look on his face and his cheeks run flushed, “Sorry,” he squeaks out.
“You’re good; I was taking a break anyway; my brain feels like it’s about to explode.”
“What’re you studying?”
“English – I’m in a Chaucer class; we’re reading The Canterbury Tales right now,” he looks at her nodding like he understands, but his gaze is blank, “it’s basically Middle English, and, like, I need to know a translation and the plot and the characters and everything.”
“Middle English? Damn.” He says, then asks a question about the plot. Julie answers, in more than a few words. She’s sure he doesn’t mean to help her study, but recounting this stuff is doing more to jog her memory than just reading – and Luke seems genuinely interested, which is nice.
“Anyway – how’s the songwriting going?”
“Good – like, really good. There’s just this one part that keeps bothering me, and I can’t seem to figure out why or how to fix it.”
“I could look at it, if you’d like?” She offers – he looks like he thought she’d never ask.
“Yeah – that’d be great.”
He slides it over to her side of the table, she reads it over, pen resting between her lips; she can tell he’s trying not to watch her, but it’s not working. He’s fidgety and seemingly anxious – Julie gets it; it’s not easy sharing your work with other people, especially people you’ve really only just met – but it’s an important part of the process.
“Dude, your handwriting is terrible.”
He shoots her a glance, “Shut up.”
She stifles a laugh, then gets to reading.
What he has is really good – she’s honestly thoroughly impressed, but she gets what he’s saying – the bridge is missing something; it’s not that the rhythm is off, but it’s not flowing as nicely as it should into the next couple lines.
“How does this part go?” She asks, specifying. He sings it aloud – it’s quiet, as they are in a library, even if they are in a separated room, and even though he’s clearly marking it, he’s still really good. Like - Really good. She feels her cheeks flush.
“I feel like,” she pauses, as he stops, “like, this needs, like, two more lines; it seems rushed to me, if that makes sense?”
“Yeah. Yeah, yeah. You’re right.”
They have a brief little discussion and then – “Maybe something like ‘living on a feeling da da da da da da da’.” She sings; his eyes light up –
“Yeah; that’s really good. Write that down.”
She does and notices how neat her writing looks next to his – she swears never to complain about the illegibility of her own notes again.
“’Living on a feeling that …’”
“feels like? That’s been? Uhhhh,” Julie says aloud, trying to think of something.
“That’s been…. What… pumping? Running? Screaming?” They sit on it for a second-
“I kind of like running.”
“Yeah, me too,” he agrees, they’re both quiet for a few moments, lost in thought; Julie knows she should be concentrating on studying, and yet songwriting is fun – she hasn’t done anything like this in so long; it’s freeing in a way that she never would have thought. It’s natural, like the voice in her head, the blood in her veins –
“I got it!” She shouts. Luke’s eyes light up, as she continues, “Living on a feeling that’s been running though our veins.”
He grabs the notebook and scribbles that down immediately, “Yes! Yes! And then – maybe… we’re the revolution –“
“that’s been singing in the rain!”
“Julie, you’re a fucking genius,” he says – voice full of warmth and honesty.
“That’s layin’ it on a little thick, now.”
“Nuh-uh – and your voice! Jesus Christ, man. You’re good.”
She blushes, not really wanting to get involved into a real conversation about singing, and her mom – no matter how much she might like to; she’s really only just getting to know Luke. They’re writing one song together. She’s got an English exam tomorrow.
So, she settles for a little “Thanks,” and she means it. He smiles – eyes bright and warm like orange blossom honey, his eyes crinkle at the corners. They talk about a couple more improvements, and then he apologizes and lets her get back to work.
He has nothing to be sorry about though – there’s nothing bad about procrastinating. She does get back to studying, humming and highlighting along to a silly little melody. The hours pass quickly, and before she knows it, it’s one in the morning, and her eyes are tired – dry and heavy. She starts getting her things together, trying not to distract Luke, who’s still scribbling intently into his notebook. He does notice her packing her bag – and then seems to wrap up what he’s doing. She’s stands up, giving the area a once-over before throwing her jacket on. Luke’s all ready to go.
“Ready?” she asks. He nods; they walk to the front door in relative silence. The flapping of turning pages and the slow hum of the air envelope them. It’s not awkward though, like it should be for people who’ve really only just met.
When they get to the door, she’s not expecting him to ask to walk her back to her apartment. It certainly beats waiting for the bus, and it more than beats walking alone. She agrees, cheeks growing warm, and he can’t hide his blush either.
It’s cute, she thinks, that his facial expressions are so honest – so clearly depicted. She might not be able to tell what he’s thinking, but she knows how he’s feeling.
The walk back is chilly, but nice. They talk about Mamma Mia for some reason – which is funny. Julie is a firm believer of Bill supremacy, but Luke’s a Harry fan – which she supposes makes sense. His whole vibe in the second one is very much one that she can see Luke enjoying (his other reason is that Harry reminds him of both Reggie and Alex, which is really endearing – honestly.)
“At least you’re not into Sam.”
“Oh yeah. Fuck that guy.”
She laughs, breath turning into a little cloud in front of her, “Honestly though… but like, at the same time, if he asked, I wouldn’t say no.”
It’s Luke’s turn now; the sound makes her feel warm, “don’t blame you for that one.”
The conversation continues, and she’s a little disappointed to be back at her building.
“Well,” she says, shuffling her feet a little and shoving her hands in her pockets, “Thanks for walking me back.”
“Anytime,” he replies.
“Goodnight, Luke.”
“’Night, Julie.”
She walks up the stairs, to the door, fishes around her pocket for her swipe, then uses the card to access the building, she opens the door, looking back at him. He’s still there, watching her. She gives him a tiny little wave before walking through the door.
He waves back.
She feels light.
They keep studying together – sometimes they’ll go to Luke’s favorite coffeeshop near campus; she’ll get a chai latte, and he’ll order a coffee – black, two sugars and a splash of cream, and sometimes they’ll end up splitting a blueberry muffin (or sometimes Julie throws little pieces at him when he makes stupid jokes, looking at her with his shit-eating grin and bright, bright eyes.
Sometimes, they’re back in the library; Julie’s notes spread out all over the table, glasses low on the bridge of her nose, as she types away – pages upon pages of Chaucer or Shakespeare or Modern America. He’ll have the pen between his lips, thinking up a storm, quietly drumming his fingers on the table to a rhythm he’s figured out in his head.
Sometimes she’ll pop up for air, and he’ll pop up to ask her for a lyric.
It’s effective.
Sometimes they’ll be joined by Julie’s friends, and he’ll text her from across the room, complaining that he’s not getting any work done because Flynn keeps making him laugh. Sometimes They’ll be joined by his friends, and Julie ends up crying from laughing so hard at something Reggie’s done or said –
(Most memorable was when Reggie was complaining about his lack of Luke moments on stage, and Luke full on serenades him – Reggie stands there, looking stunned as Luke’s face is only mere inches from his own. He steps back, shaking his head, eyes wide –
“Girls, am I right?”
“Yeah,” Luke sighs, eyes decidedly not on Julie.
“No,” Alex says, wistfully.
Julie looks between the three of them, then to Willie, then proceeds to lose her shit.)
Between Luke texting her individually, the texts in group chat she and Flynn have been added to, and Flynn’s texts from Willie, they are kept up to date with when the guy’s shows are. Unfortunately, they’re at the point in the semester where everything is due all at the same time (the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas is the Worst, actually, and Julie hates it), so they haven’t been able to make it to a show yet.
They’re pretty big in the local scene, but still end up with shitty days – like Wednesday nights – Julie would go, really – but she’s got an eight a.m. the next morning and it’s bad enough getting up for that with a normal amount of sleep. She almost makes it to a Thursday night show, except right when she’s getting ready to leave Carlos calls with a high school girlfriend emergency, and there’s no way that she can get out of that conversation – since their mother died, it’s been hard, and while Tía Victoria and their father are always there for Carlos and Julie both, there’s somethings that are easier to talk about without them –
Like Carlos’s girlfriend scenario which is also kind of tied into their father’s reception of the girl – (which apparently was fine, she was just reading too much into it and got pissed at Carlos. This is his first serious girlfriend, and Julie doesn’t have the heart to tell him that this is probably a red flag.)
Regardless, the situation ends up being sorted, Luke sends her a text, and they call raincheck.
In the meantime, the guys will sometimes go out with them on Thursdays, or Fridays, or Saturdays. There are more parties at Willie’s and at the guy’s place – they all usually end up piled up in Luke’s room at the end of the night, sitting in the orange glow of the string lights, basking in the presence of the poster clad walls. Julie’s usually either buried right next to him, sitting on his bed, back against the wall, or sitting in his lap – but, as she reiterates to Flynn (who won’t ever stop giving her looks), it’s purely platonic on his part –
Even if it isn’t on hers.
Even if she knows it’s not really on his, either.
(They just, haven’t talked about it yet; somehow, they went from strangers, crashing into each other on the street, to best – well, not best; Flynn has not by any means been replaced – friends.
She knows about the rocky relationship he’s had with his parents, how they’re coming around now – about how his one song, “Unsaid Emily” isn’t about some girl (as she had previously teased him about), but about his mother, about how he’s never really felt like anyone important until he picked up a guitar.
He knows about her mother, about how she really was trying to get into the LA music scene and how that really didn’t seem to happen. How after the death of her mother, she clung to Flynn, to herself, to her favorite books, and found comfort in them. How she grew to want to study English and how she never really got over her love for song writing and music. How she knows she’s happy but it’s just, so hard sometimes.
He knows her coffee order, how her foot sometimes aches when it’s going to rain, how she went through an emo phase in middle school and no she does not want to talk about it.
She knows his ringtone by heart, the way he sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth when he concentrates, the way his handwriting, while nearly illegible, isn’t really.)
They’re all laughing and drinking, and having a good time being young, being alive, being friends.
The week before finals is always crazy. Always last-minute assignments, always last-minute papers, and other types of busywork. It’s a nightmare, and Friday can’t come fast enough.
She gets a text from Luke on Wednesday that Sunset Curve’s playing a set at Alonso’s on Friday and that she has no excuse to miss it this time. Julie, who has been looking for an excuse to go out, is thrilled, and lets him know how exited she is to finally see him play.
The week drags on.
A term paper and a long ass outline later, it’s Friday night, and yet again, she’s singing along to a Kim Petras song in her underwear with Flynn as they get ready. Julie puts on a cute tight, long sleeved crop top, and her favorite pair of mom jeans and pairs it with her favorite chunky, dirty white bar shoes. She stands in front of her mirror, taking a sip of two-week old boxed wine. Her mouth puckers, but she gets back to doing her eyeshadow. Her make-up is scattered across the top of her dresser, and it takes her a moment to find the right brush, but after that, her lids are shimmery and her eyeliner’s bold.
It’s her hair that takes the longest time – It’s been up all day and absolutely driving her, so it takes a moment to get it to behave in the way she wants it to – one it’s lying nice – she downs the rest of her wine, gets her money together, then goes to Flynn’s room –
Alonso’s is not anywhere to write home about; it’s a cute little bar right up the street from their campus. It’s never really busy, but there’s a nice little spot in the back where bands play sometimes. Usually there’s just someone’s phone on aux and it may or not usually be Flynn's.
Plus, they know the bartender, Annie – and she makes them these fruity little drinks – Julie doesn’t know what’s in them, only that they’re strong and sweet.
What she’s getting at is that there really isn’t any need to get super dressed up – not that Flynn got that memo; even dressed down she looks like a movie star – sparkly little black shirt and bright blue bell bottoms with the coolest little black heels Julie’s ever seen. Her hair up, long braids frame her face.
“Okay, model –“ Julie says, Flynn does a little spin, and ends with a little curtsey.
“Thank you, thank you.” Flynn replies in a silly little voice, making Julie giggle. “You ready?”
“Yep.”
“Right then, let’s go, girl!”
Flynn grabs her phone, checks to make sure she has the right ID and her card in the wallet stuck to the back of it, then grabs a coat – which prompts Julie to run to her room, grab a jacket, and then rush to meet Flynn by the front door.
“You got keys?”
Flynn takes them out of her pocket and jingles them in front of her.
“Okay, asshole.”
Flynn sticks her tongue out as they walk through the doorway. Julie closes the door gently behind them.
The walk is chilly but goes by fast – being cold makes them move faster (especially when she and Flynn are both repeating the word “chilly” in a rhythmic fashion.) They make it to Alonso’s in no time at all, and both breathe a sigh of relief upon entering, the heat instantly working its magic. They greet the lady working the bar downstairs, then take the steps up to the second floor, where the band is to be playing. They hang their jackets up on the coat rack. Annie’s working the bar, and they walk over to say hello and open a tab. Not soon after, Jo and Georgia walk in – they order their drinks and chat for a little, then make their way to an open table near where the band’s going to be playing. Reggie, Alex, and Luke are setting up – setting up amps, mic stands – you know, prepping the scene.
Julie catches Luke’s eye and waves – his face lights up and he waves back. She turns back to the table, all her friends giving her a look as she takes a long sip from her drink.
“What?” she asks, oblivious but not really.
“You two are fucking goners,” Georgia states.
“We’re just friends,” Julie says, rolling her eyes. They all know she’s full of shit.
“’We’re just friends,'” Jo mocks, “bullshit. He’s so in love with you, it’s disgusting really.”
“You guys are ridiculous.”
“You were literally in his lap last weekend –“
“Okay and? You were in Reggie’s and I didn’t say anything,”
“His arms were around you – and we were making fun of you guys, like seriously me and Reggie –“ Flynn makes a gagging face. Julie feels her face heat up.
“Aw, look! She’s blushing,”
“Oh my god,” Julie says, putting her face in her hands, “Okay, fine,” she whispers, but it’s pretty loud in here, so she’s probably yelling, “I might be like. A tiny bit in love with him, and –“ She pauses; she can tell her friends are dying to interrupt her, so she continues, raising her voice a little, “and I think he feels the same for me – we just. Haven’t talked about it yet.”
“Girl, I know he feels the same.”
“And I get that – hey, when the convo feels right, it feels right; just… can you have that talk soon because I might have some money riding on when y’all get together.”
“I literally hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” Flynn says fondly, wrapping her arm around Julie’s shoulder and kissing her cheek.
“Aww,” Jo says, “Looks like Luke’s got some competition.”
“Goddamit, Jo.”
“Good one, babe,” Georgia whispers in Jo’s ear, kissing her cheek.
Julie’s about to make a quick retort, but Sunset Curve begins their soundcheck – getting everything in order. They don’t start for another twenty minutes, but Julie can feel the excitement. She’s excited to see the guys preform – excited to see Luke’s songs (and her additions) in action, to see him fully taken over by the music that guides his life.
She takes another sip of her drink, and notes that the guys have finished their sound check and are hanging out in the corner, chatting – sipping their own beers.
Julie gets up and makes her way over.
“Julie!” Reggie exclaims, bringing her into a tight hug, “So glad you could make it!”
“Your crushing me, Reg.”
“Right. Sorry.” She can hear Alex, Luke and Willie trying not to laugh as Alex lets go of her.
“I just wanted to say good luck, or whatever – and that you guys are gonna kill it!” They all smile, Julie does too, rising to her tip toes in excitement. Alex and Reggie thank her, Willie wraps his arm around Alex, drawing him close and kissing his cheek. Luke thanks her too, and she’s careful to note the extent of his gaze – mirthful, happy and yet deep, like a pretty lake with unclear water, but it's familiar, warm, inviting.
Julie wants to dive in.
Maybe that’s why when they tell her they’re starting in three minutes and she wishes them luck, she walks over to Luke and gives him a slow, light kiss on the cheek.
“For luck,” she whispers, breathy – so completely out of her element – but it’s worth the way he looks at her, like he’d kiss her now, tell her that he’s completely devoted to her if he had the time.
And he will, that is, have the time.
She walks back over to the table, feeling warmer than she should – with a burning in her chest and in the pit of her stomach.
Flynn punches her arm, but she can’t wipe the grin off her face.
“You are bold,” her friend whispers, “B. O. L. D.”
The lights dim, and then suddenly – the guitars chime in – loud and in your face – Julie knows this one – “Now or Never" – she helped Luke with writing it on their first library excursion. She takes another sip of her drink, downing almost half of it, then grabs Flynn’s hand so that they're standing up and doing their own stupid little dances.
Julie knows some of the words, and she sings along, as Flynn twirls and laughs –
“They’re good!”
“I helped write this one!” Julie shouts; Flynn looks impressed – then goes back to dancing.
Luke’s voice floats through the guitar and drums – complimenting them, completing them, the chorus comes with a harmony of Alex and Reggie’s voices, Julie watches them feed off each other’s energy. Luke joins Alex at the drums for a moment, both singing, both sharing a look that’s electric – and you can tell how much they love this – love being in a band – from that look alone (she wonders if he looks at her like that – with such an intensity; she’s sure he does).
Verse two comes, and he catches her eye, and gives her a little mock salute and a soul crushing smirk. He jumps around, closing his eyes and sings into the mic, all passion, all business. He moves over to Reggie, and they share a moment during the second chorus - that same flair still evident – she’s not sure how he manages to do it, to look at people like that.
He has a gift – for music, for preforming, for making people feel so cared for.
The bridge comes suddenly – and Julie’s yelling the words to Luke – they’re both the only two people in the room – she’s never felt more seen, never felt more known.
(It’s at that moment where she decides she’s gonna stop drinking for the night – she wants to have that conversation – needs to have that conversation).
The song ends, and Luke introduces the band, and does a little short monologue, then the next song starts. Jo and Georgia join Julie and Flynn in dancing. They’re really, really good – Julie really thinks they’re gonna make it; she thinks about her mom, and how she would get the feeling, what she’d say when she encountered a group that had this kind of passion, this lust for life, this drive – this talent.
She’d be impressed. And, she’d be proud – Julie made some of this happen.
Their hour-long set flies by, and before she knows it, Luke’s introducing the last song –
“This one’s for a very special girl,” he says, voice raspy – the boys all share a look; Reggie begins on the guitar, and Alex comes in on the drums; Julie stands still, unable to move, unable to look away; she feels someone take her hand.
“No, I don’t care about anything at all, but I stop and stare every time that you call –“ Luke sings beautifully; Julie can’t do anything other than listen, to the verses, to the chorus – pretty words, honest words, kind words about uncertain yet so very certain love.
It’s the longest three minutes and fifty seconds of her life, and yet – when he sings the final lines, she finds it’s all worth it –
“I don’t want to spend my life without your kiss goodnight. Yeah, for the rest of my life, I need your kiss goodnight. I hope we kiss goodnight.”
Pretty brown eyes meet hers, and he looks so vulnerable here; the bar is full of applause, but Julie hears the quiet, feels Flynn’s hand in her own, and feels Luke’s gaze – he’s asked her – she nods, yes, tilts her head down a little to hide the massive grin that breaks out on her face.
She still manages to see his smile – toothy and bright and so, so very happy.
“We’re Sunset Curve,” he says, “Tell your friends!” The guys take their bows, the lights grow just a tad bit brighter. Alex and Reggie head straight to Wille, while Luke beelines to where she stands with Flynn.
“Hey,” he says, “Can I talk to you?”
Flynn shoots her a look, and Julie nods slightly, indicating that it’s fine.
“Yeah,” she says, offering her hand, he takes it, leading her to the back room where the aux is usually hooked up – the light is bright, but it’s a little quieter and way less crowded than the bar.
“Julie,” he pauses, dropping her hand and running his fingers through his sweaty hair. He lets out a tiny nervous breath, “I just –“ he stops again, taking her hands and intently looking down at them, “You have to know how I feel about you, I just….”
“I know, stupid,” she whispers, fondly, “you wrote a fucking love song about me.”
“Did you like it?”
He looks up at her now, eyes big and bright and nervous – even though he has no reason to be; but this feels big, so maybe he’s right, maybe she should feel scared.
But she’s not. This is the easiest thing she’s ever done in her life.
“I loved it.”
She’s never seen Luke look so happy – then the next thing she knows, his hands are holding her face, and the tip of his nose is brushing her own, her breath hitches, he says her name like a song, like a prayer, and she says his like its sacred, - she feels so light, so full of joy.
Then she kisses him.
It’s feathery soft, tentative, slow. Like she’s dipping her toe in the water, testing the temperature. It’s Luke that takes the dive – stronger – like she’s the air he breathes, like she’s the blood in his veins. She lets it happen, like a wave crashing – hears him whisper her name against her mouth, pulls her deeper, deeper and deeper until she feels like she’s drowning in him.
It’s wonderful.
She smiles, against his mouth, his hands wander from her cheeks down to her waist, as he draws her in for a hug, pulling her close. She rests her head against his chest, hears the thump-thump of his heart over the muffled background noise of the bar.
“I love you,” she says.
“I love you, too.”
(They just kind of stand there for a while – he’s holding her – telling her how beautiful and wonderful she is, as if to make up for lost time. She can’t stop smiling – she can’t even describe how wonderful this feels, to be known and to be held.
Then her phone vibrates in her back pocket, and she goes to check it, pulling away from Luke - he pouts;
She stares at him deadpan as she checks her message –
It’s Flynn, asking if she’s been murdered yet.
I’m fine, asshole.
“C’mon,” she takes Luke’s hand, “Flynn thinks you taken me outside and killed me or something.”
He snorts, then follows her back out to where their friends are; they’re all in the idle of an intense conversation about what Julie seems to think are vampires, but she’s not totally sure – she gives Luke’s hand a tight squeeze and looks up at him, he looks back at her and they're both smiling she’s sure someone’s going to throw a pretzel at them or something for how ridiculous she’s sure they look.
It’s Georgia who notices – and she yells –
“I fucking told you! I told you! Pay up, assholes!” All their friends look over at them and start mumbling.
Alex’s seriously, cuts through the noise, along with Flynn’s you couldn’t have waited twenty more minutes?
Julie laughs as they all pass small bills to Georgia; Jo kisses her on the cheek.
Luke bumps her gently – she meets his gaze – he’s trying not to laugh; it’s evidently not working. While her friends aren’t looking, she gets on her tiptoes and tries to sneak a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
Someone notices – a pretzel hits her shoulder.
“And we thought they were bad before,” Reggie mutters.
“We’re gonna end up traumatizing them, aren’t we?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Luke replies, smug little grin on his face, pulling her close. She hums into him.)
It’s a chance.
It’s a promise.