Harvard Hottie (8 page)

Luke seems entirely unconcerned though, as he sends out an email on his iPhone. I still haven’t figured out how much use he has of his hands, so I have to admit I’m staring a bit. Finally, Luke looks up at me and says, “What?”

“Nothing,” I say quickly. “Just… it’s hard to hit the buttons on those things, isn’t it?”

Luke puts down the iPhone and lays his hands out in front of him. “All my cervical nerves are still working,” he says. “So I can still bend and extend my fingers fairly well, although not perfect. But I’m missing my T1 nerve, which means I can’t really spread my fingers apart. It looks worse than it is, honestly. Mostly, it’s just that my dexterity sucks. But I’d be screwed if I couldn’t answer emails on my phone, so I adapt. The iPhone is pretty sensitive to touch.”

“Oh,” I say, feeling slightly embarrassed for forcing him to explain.

He shrugs. I guess this isn’t the first time someone has stared at his hands.

I clear my throat, desperate to change the topic. “I think Irene has a crush on you,” I say to him. I still can’t get over how much money we spent on that dress.

He sticks his iPhone in his pocket and smirks at me. “I don’t think so.”

“She was totally flirting,” I insist.

“Of course she was flirting,” he says. “Do you know how much commission she makes off me each year?  I probably single-handedly pay her rent. There’s a difference between someone liking you for your money and liking you for yourself.”

“See, I don’t have that problem,” I say. “Anyone who likes me for my money is very deluded.”

“Well, it sucks,” Luke says. “Especially when it’s a woman and you don’t realize it right away.”

He looks kind of sad all of a sudden. I look at his hands and his body and wonder how many of his recent past relationships have been with women who were only interested in him for his money. I’m guessing it’s a lot.

Chapter Ten

Luke’s house is amazing. Please excuse my language, but holy shit.

Compared with my parents’ house in New Jersey, this place is like a mansion. It is huge. The estate stretches out over the length of practically an entire block. The furniture all looks brand-new and obscenely expensive, and he’s got the most high tech entertainment system I’ve ever seen. And did I mention his house is enormous? I feel like if I wander too far away, I’ll get lost. I’m glad I’ve got my cell phone.

“So what do you think?” Luke asks me, grinning at my expression.

“It’s…” I clear my throat. “Okay. Very nice.”

“Wasn’t cheap,” he says. “I don’t want to give numbers, but trust me, it cost a little more than your dress.”

I believe him. He lives in Newton, which is known for being a fairly wealthy neighborhood with expensive houses. I was considering living there way back when and changed my mind quickly when I saw the rents. I guess that isn’t much of an issue for Luke, though.

God, how can I go back to my tiny apartment after seeing this house? It’s so unfair! This place is amazing.

The house is two stories and I notice a staircase in the living room with a seat attached to the banister. “What’s that?” I ask him.

“Oh,” he says. “That’s in case I want to get upstairs. I’ve got an old spare wheelchair up at the top. But I’ve got my bedroom, my office, and everything down here. Upstairs is just the guest rooms. I wanted a one-story place but I didn’t see any I liked as much as this house.”

I gaze up the stairs. I guess there isn’t much need for one person to have a second story.

“Can I get you a drink?” Luke asks.

“Do you have Perrier?” I don’t know why I asked for Perrier. I don’t even want it. But it feels like the kind of thing you should be drinking in a house like this.

“Perrier?” Luke stares at me. “I’ve got… tap water?  Or wine?”

“Yes, wine, please,” I say. Lord, I need a drink.

I follow Luke to his mini-bar (he has a mini-bar!) and he pours me a glass of wine, as well as one for himself. I’m shaking a bit as I pick up the glass. “You okay, Ellie?” he asks me.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I swallow. I down the wine in about two gulps.

“Good,” he says. “Now go get dressed.”

Luke tells me to go upstairs to one of the fifty billion guest bedrooms he has up there. At the top of the stairs, I see his spare wheelchair leaning against the banister. Unlike the chair he usually sits in, this one looks more like the kind I sat in when I got my tonsils out at the hospital. It’s large and clunky, with separate footrests. It’s the kind of wheelchair you might see someone’s elderly grandfather sitting in. I can see why Luke doesn’t like to come up here much.

I wander into one of the spare bedrooms and I put on the fantastic black dress. I do my make-up, making my eyes look dark and sexy, and I wear my hair loose and shiny. As I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror, I think this might be the best I’ve ever looked in my life. I feel so incredibly sexy.

When I come out of the bedroom, I see that Luke has dressed up in his tuxedo. If he got the tux at that boutique, that place is worth every penny. He looks… okay, I admit, he looks hot. Really hot. The jacket does a good job concealing the imperfections of his body and the dark color makes his eyes look very intense. His face is clean-shaven and the vague smell of his aftershave is just as tantalizing as it was sixteen years ago. He seems to even be sitting up a little straighter in his chair.

He turns his chair to look at me, and he seems to be rendered speechless. For like a full minute, we’re just kind of standing there, staring at each other stupidly.

He swallows hard. “Jesus, Ellie.”

“You like it?” I ask, feeling really shy all of a sudden for some reason.

“Are you joking?” He reaches his hand out as if he wants to grab me, then drops it back onto his lap. “I wish we weren’t going to this party. I wish…”

“What?” I squeeze my hands into fists. I don’t know what I’m hoping he’ll say. But suddenly I’m having thoughts about him that are very out of the ordinary for me. I’m thinking about what his lips would feel like, his hot breath against my skin.

He grabs the wheels of his chair and shifts his weight. “I, um… nothing. Nothing.” He smiles, although it looks forced. “We should probably get going, huh?”

I shake my head, trying to clear it. What the hell got into me?

I go to grab my purse from his couch, feeling very much like Cinderella going to the ball. “I really miss dressing up,” I say. “I shouldn’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve had a date.”

“Hmm,” Luke says. “I’m sure I have you beat.”

“Six months.”

“Two years.”

I gasp. “You’re kidding, right?” I stare at Luke. He may be in a wheelchair, but he’s certainly not bad-looking in his dark tux. It’s hard to believe he could be having such a long dry spell.

“No, but thanks for not making me feel weird about it.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s like I said, it’s pretty hard to tell if a woman likes you for your money or yourself. I mean, it’s one thing if they like you but also find the money a turn-on. I could deal with that. But when they’re basically just tolerating you because of the money, well…”

I don’t know what to say to that.

“My most recent girlfriend, Rebecca, was the last straw,” he says. “We were going out for six months and I was being respectful and, you know, taking things slow. In retrospect, she didn’t even want to kiss me, but I really liked her so I was oblivious. One night things went to the bedroom, and…”

His face is a little red. He shakes his head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“It’s okay,” I say, although actually, I’m sort of wishing he weren’t telling me this story.

“Well,” he says, “I guess you’ve already rejected me twice, so what’s the difference, huh?”

I don’t say anything.

“Anyway,” he shrugs. “Needless to say, there was no sex that night. As soon as I got undressed and was in the bed, Rebecca started crying and said she couldn’t go through with it. She actually
cried
. Apparently, even hundreds of millions of dollars didn’t make it worth it for her to sleep with me. That’s how much I disgusted my own girlfriend. That one really haunts me.”

He looks really upset telling the story and I can see how much this affected him. I guess I don’t blame him. If a guy saw me naked and told me he couldn’t go through with having sex with me, I’d probably have to join a convent. And it especially must have been rough for a guy like Luke, who was used to getting any girl he wanted in college. I suspect I was the only girl to turn him down through all of college. I never really thought he wanted me anyway, just that he
wanted the challenge of someone who wasn’t going to fall for him the second he snapped his fingers. But that’s not the case anymore. I remember how much I resented him back in college, but I don’t feel that way anymore. “Luke…”

“It’s fine,” he says sharply. “It just… doesn’t make me want to jump out there into the dating pool.”

I remember what Lewis said about the rumor that Luke saw prostitutes. For a moment, I wonder if there’s truth in that. It’s probably easier to know you’re paying for it than to always be wondering.

“So how about you?” he says. “How come you don’t have a more active social life?  I mean, I have a good excuse, but you’re gorgeous.”

“I’m not gorgeous,” I mumble. I’m really not. Really. Even in this fantastic dress, I’m not even close.

“Of course you are,” he says, as if debating the matter was ridiculous. He studies me for a second. “Oh shit, you’re not a lesbian, are you?”

“Luke!” Why does everyone keep saying that?

“Well, I just can’t figure it out,” he says.

Hmph. I don’t think it’s quite so much of a mystery. Honestly, I don’t see how more people aren’t single. It seems amazing that so many people could find someone else that they’re compatible with and attracted to. I blame desperation for the number of marriages out there.

***

Luke gets a car to take us to the art gallery. I figure it’ll be some kind of sedan, so I’m shocked when an amazing black stretch limousine pulls up in Luke’s driveway. “Whoa,” I say.

“Sorry,” he says. “You kind of have to make a big appearance.”

I slide into the leather seats. I can’t believe I’m wearing a five-thousand-dollar dress and sitting in a limo. This feels like some kind of bizarre
Twilight Zone
episode where I switched lives with some rich woman. Any minute now, a talking doll is going to pop out and kill me.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in a limo before,” I say.

“Really?” Luke’s shocked. “What about prom night?”

“Prom night?” I snort. “I don’t think I’ve been to a prom in my life.”

“Why not?”

“Never had a date.”

“You?” Luke raises his eyebrows. “Twelve fingers?  Rosanna Banana?  I don’t believe it.”

“Shut
up.” I stick my tongue out at him.

I never really thought of Boston as being any kind of Mecca of the arts, so I use that as an excuse to be apathetic. I visited the Fine Arts Museum rather reluctantly when some friends dragged me there. I guess I’m not really all that into art, to be totally honest. I don’t get art. I don’t mind looking at paintings, but I don’t get how people spend hours, years, or even lifetimes analyzing a piece of art. I mean, who gives a shit if Mona Lisa is smiling or not? It’s just a picture.

“You go to art galleries much?” Luke asks me, watching me from his seat within the limo. I’m seat-belted into one side of the car and he’s at the other side. We’re about as far from one another as we can get while still being in the same vehicle.

“What do you think?”

“I don’t think you seem like much of a lover of the arts,” he says.

“Oh really?

He nods. “I bet when someone tells you they majored in art history, the first thing you think is: ‘What a waste.’” He pauses. “You seem more like the analytical type. Am I right?”

I snort. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Always know exactly what I’m thinking?”

Luke winks at me. “Didn’t you know? You’re an open book, Ellie.”

At that moment, the car idles in front of the gallery. Much like the boutique, it reeks of wealth. My stomach does flip-flops and I tell myself that my expensive dress will make me fit in. I start to unbuckle my seatbelt, but Luke shakes his head at me. “No. We’re going to the back entrance.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Stairs.”

“Oh,” I say. Duh.

They’re expecting Luke and someone is waiting for him to open the handicapped entrance. It’s raining now and I get slightly wet as I race from the limo to the entrance. There’s a small carpet at the entrance and Luke lingers on it, going forward a foot, then going backward a foot.

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

He gives me a crooked smile. “Don’t mind me. Just trying to clean my wheels a bit. It’s kind of bad manners to leave a trail.”

We take the elevator up to the main level. I glance at Luke, who’s slumped in his wheelchair, looking kind of miserable. “You okay?” I ask him.

“Oh, sure,” he says. “I just hate this shit. Mingling. Ugh.”

“Really?” I’m amused by his reaction. “I thought you loved it.”

He loosens his tie a bit. “I used to.” He doesn’t expand on that sentiment.

As if on cue, the door to the elevator opens at that moment and a middle-aged woman in a ridiculously puffy shiny royal-blue frock rushes over to greet us. She looks so ostentatious with that dress and matching blue make-up and hair bands, for a moment I wonder if she’s part of the art exhibit herself. “Luke!” she cries. “I’m so pleased you could make it, darling!”

She envelopes Luke in a hug, which he accepts with enthusiasm that I can barely tell is faked. “Hello, Patricia.”

Patricia pulls away and gives Luke this look of sympathy. “How’s your father?”

“I think he’s enjoying his retirement,” Luke replies.

“Well, he must be,” Patricia says. “You’ve been a wizard with the company. He must be proud.”

“Yes,” Luke says, although his voice is very tight. “Patricia, this is Eleanor.”

Patricia looks at me in surprise, as if noticing me for the first time. She spends a second looking me up and down before her face lights up. “Eleanor!” she cries with as much enthusiasm as she had for Luke. “Oh my God, darling, I am just
so
happy to meet you.”

“Uh, thanks,” I stammer, nowhere near as eloquent as Luke.

“She’s lovely,” Patricia says to Luke and I can’t help but feel flattered. I know she thinks that Luke and I must be a couple and that’s why she’s so pleased with me, and somehow I’m not bothered by this at all.

Luke makes small talk with Patricia while I stand there looking pretty (sort of). When she finally wanders away, Luke says to me, “I’ve known her my whole life. She’s been in love with my father for like thirty years. I think they might have slept together.”