His face appeared from behind my closet door. “It’s hideous! I can’t have you be my boyfriend and wearing things like that around, thinking it’s just okay!”
I smiled a little at his personality shining through. Then I eyed the shirt on the bed next to me sadly. It wasn’t so bad, was it?
“I see how you’re looking at it!” he cried dramatically, “and the answer is yes, yes it is that bad!”
“Well, what do you recommend I get to replace it?” I grumbled.
He rummaged in my closet some more, examining the hanging shirts one by one.
“Here, this one’s good.”
He pulled a shirt off a hanger — a navy blue long-sleeve button-down with tiny white dots all over it, then threw it on the bed. Then he repeated that for several other shirts.
“Good, good, good, good…” he said with each one he threw.
I was sitting on the bed hunched over slightly, enjoying seeing him in his element. Then it dawned on me.
“Luke… have you ever considered going into fashion?” I asked.
“What?!” he said, poking his head out of the closet again.
I repeated my question, but it was clear from his response that he’d heard me the first time.
“…I’ve always been curious about it,” he said. “But my parents would never let me become a fashion designer.”
He continued rummaging through the closet, moving down to my collection of shoes.
“What do you mean your parents won’t let you?” I asked. “It seems like it’s something you’d really enjoy.”
“Well, you’ve met my mother,” he said. “My dad is like that too, but a million times worse. It was like pulling teeth trying to convince him to let me get an English degree instead of doing pre-med or something… you know, a more manly profession.”
“So your dad isn’t cool with anything that isn’t… ‘manly?’” I air-quoted.
“He’s traditional.”
“Well, who cares what he thinks anyway. You’re your own person and you can do whatever you want with your life,” I said, encouraging him.
He locked eyes with me from the floor of the closet. “I guess you’re right, but it’s too late to get into it now. I’m almost done with my English degree. I’m not going to switch this late in the game; that ship has sailed.”
“No it hasn’t,” I reasoned, getting up from the bed and going to sit next to him on the floor of my closet. I held his hands and faced him. “It’s never too late to change your path.”
“But my degree—”
“You should finish your degree, you’ve only got one semester left,” I said. “Then you should pursue what makes you happy. And it looks like that’s fashion.”
His eyes brightened momentarily, but then the shadow of doubt clouded them. “My parents would never support me…”
“Who gives a crap what they think?” I encouraged. “It’s something you’re clearly passionate about. It would be a waste if you didn’t go after it.”
He looked up at me like a lost puppy. “I don’t even know where I’d start…”
He had me there. I didn’t know where he’d start either. Then, I was stricken by an idea.
“At the Labor Day cookout this weekend, I have a cousin that’s coming into town. She goes to Parson’s School of Design — it’s some big fashion school in New York. You could ask her where to start!” I said.
Luke smiled the biggest smile I’d seen yet.
“I’d love that!” But then, I watched the hope drain from his eyes and he looked at the ground again. “But what if she thinks I’m a fraud? I’m just some nobody who’s coming to her asking for advice…”
“She’s not going to think you’re a fraud. And besides, I’ll be there the whole time. Not that you’ll need me— I have a feeling the two of you will get along,” I smiled, thinking of Patricia. She was dramatic, over-the-top, and had one of those larger-than-life personalities. I could see her and Luke becoming best friends instantly.
“Oh, well, if you say so,” he said nervously.
I chuckled and leaned back on the bed so I was laying down. “I do. And you have to do what I say,” I teased, using my cop voice.
Luke chuckled and swung a long leg over me, straddling me. “Is that right?” he said, leaning down and kissing my neck.
I put my hands on his slim hips and felt my pants get tight. “Yeah, my house, my rules—”
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
Luke’s face contorted to an expression of concern. I knew he was thinking about his mother.
Normally I would have ignored my phone during sexy time, but I could tell that Luke needed to know that his mom was okay.
I tucked my hand into my pocket and pulled out my phone, and peered at the screen. My face fell.
It was a text from Nick that said, “She’s on the bridge, get down here and bring your boyfriend.”
17
Luke
“What is it? Is she okay?” I asked, watching Adam’s face.
He let out a slow breath. “It’s your mom. We need to go.”
“What?” I cried, my body going into panic mode. Again, I felt that tenseness inside of me being pulled apart like a trampoline spring. “Is she okay?”
His face was impossible to read.
“Adam!” I said, pinning him when he tried to get up. “Just tell me what’s going on! You don’t have to take control of this situation; we’re in this together!”
Adam looked resigned for a moment, having some kind of internal battle. Then he looked up into my eyes and told me point-blank, “You’re right. You deserve to know. I wanted to protect you, but I need to tell you.”
My heart was racing. “…where is she, Adam?”
“She’s on the bridge,” he said.
My insides went cold. I was stunned. “The bridge? The one you showed me earlier?” I asked, feeling like I was outside of myself; a ghost floating above us, watching the events unfold.
Adam nodded. “We don’t have very much time.”
There was a loud rushing noise in my ears as I felt the panic rise to the surface of my mind like a rising tide. I started breathing
