The Pull of Destiny (4 page)

Luke stretched
out his legs in front of him. “Coz if you are, I don’t think we should hang
out. Ever.” He brushed his hair from his eyes, which was just a waste of time
since it fell back in. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but I kinda like my
face. I wanna keep it looking the way it does.”

I bristled,
feeling slightly defensive. “You startled me when you came up behind me, put
your arms around me and started whispering in my ear!” I almost closed my eyes
to relive it. He had smelt so good! Not like the potent Hollister cologne that
was making the rounds right now, but good, old fashioned soap. And he had been
so warm and so-
perfectly unavailable, so stop it, Celsi. Now
. Shaking
myself, I continued, hoping he hadn’t noticed my lapse in concentration. “How
many girls do you know who would stay cool under that kind of pressure?”

Yeah, both
types of pressure. The pressure of the situation and the pressure of his body
against mine.
God save me from smutty thoughts.

Luke was giving
me an incredulous look and I belatedly decided that maybe this was not a good
conversation to be having.

“You’re blaming
this on me? No way, own it!”

“Uh...” I
started, tugging my earlobe and nervously eying the door as my escape route in
case things got rough.

Luke stood up
abruptly and sat back down in a different chair opposite me (why, I don’t
know). “I thought you were Joanna,” he claimed (liar. Joanna has black hair.
Even though my hair was tied up into pigtails and I was wearing a hat, it was
still pretty obvious that it was dark brown and curly). “I came in here
expecting to see Joanna because I got a call from the concierge that she was
downstairs and instead I see
you
.”

I gulped.
Uh
oh.

Smiling weakly
at him, I gave him a little wave. “Surprise!”

He glared at
me. “Really? I come in here, embarrass myself, get assaulted, you fall on me
and I find out that you’re not Joanna.” His eyes flickered over me. “Not even
close.”

Of course I
wasn’t Joanna! Joanna was a beautiful, rich, Fifth Avenue princess. I was just
a girl from the hood. No comparison.
I needed to change the subject.

“Are you
bleeding?” I asked again. I was beginning to sound like a skipping CD.
Could
you answer me, dammit?

“I’m not
bleeding,” he replied after a beat.

Now, was
that so hard to say?

His eyes were
still on me and I can’t lie, it was making me feel like a monkey at the zoo.
“Oh. Well, is your nose broken?”
Please don’t let it be broken
. “Do you
want me to call an ambulance?”

“I don’t think
it’s broken. Just hurts.”

I giggled as a
wave of relief flowed through my body.
Thank goodness.

“I’m
so
glad this is funny for you,” Luke said, sarcasm twisting his words.

I froze in
mid-laugh, feeling suitably mortified. “No, I wasn’t laughing at you! I was
laughing because I was happy that you weren’t really badly hurt,” I explained
hurriedly. Last thing I needed was for him to think that I wasn’t remorseful
about hurting him. “I really am sorry, though.”

Luke shrugged,
finally removing his hand from his face with a wince. “It’s okay, I guess.” He
prodded his nose carefully with a finger and his lips quirked slightly. “No
lasting harm done, I think.”

I breathed
easier. He was okay. His nose was flushed with pink, but it didn’t look
swollen. Maybe I would get my hot chocolate yet.

“It must be
your lucky day,” I said ramblingly, leaning forward.

Luke gazed at
me, rubbing his nose, wincing and looking even cuter. I couldn’t believe I was
actually having a conversation with the legendary
Luke Astor!
Wait
till Shazia hears about this.
“Didn’t Hans downstairs tell you that I
didn’t want visitors?” he asked, a dangerous sounding note creeping into his
husky voice.

Damn.
Just
when I thought it was safe...

I figured Hans
was the code word for Count Dracula. “He did, but-,” I began, shifting uneasily
on the couch, which had suddenly lost its comfort.

“But you
pretended to be Joanna so you could come up?” Luke asked, talking over me. He
rubbed his chin. “That’s kinda messed up. Like, are you a stalker? One of my
fan girls? Why would you come up here when I
specifically
said that I
didn’t want anyone up?”

Because I
thought you had the mumps and I had to come up and check it out.

This guy was
acting like a typical rich, spoilt jerk.

I held up his
homework file, the
real
reason I was there. The irate look on his face
changed to one of puzzlement.

“I was bringing
you your homework,” I said shortly.

Being a Good
Samaritan was overrated.
I might just do what Robyn suggested and demand payment for my troubles.

“You pretended
to be Joanna so you could bring me my homework?” he asked dubiously. “Really?”

I felt my eyes
rolling to the ceiling before I could stop myself. “No, I pretended to be
Joanna so you could sign my t-shirt,” I said dryly, then giggled. “Of
course
I pretended to be Joanna so I could bring you your homework!”

This kid was on
the Committee on Student Conduct (really ironic considering he was always waist
deep in crap) but he was acting really slow today.

He bit his lip
reflectively. “So you’re not a stalker?”

I snorted
derisively. “Do I honestly look like one of your fan girls?” I asked.

Talking to Luke
was fun! Well, I was having fun, I couldn’t read anything on his face, but I
had never chatted to someone as popular as him (apart from Shazia’s older
brother, Ahmed, but he doesn’t count. Plus he’s a jerk. A hot jerk, but still a
jerk) for such a long time. He hadn’t chased me out of his sight or denounced
me before the Church, so I had to be doing
something
right.

He gave a
slight chuckle, shaking his head. “No. They’re usually- really intense and try
to feel me up every chance they get.” He shifted lower in his seat, scratching
his stomach idly. “So I just get paranoid when I’m home. Occupational hazard.”

He was turning
into a regular chatterbox and I willed him to keep talking. My reasons were
partly because Mr. Smith was taking forever with the refreshments (I was this
close to asking Luke where the kitchen was so I could go help him) and partly
because Luke had a rather sexy voice.

“So they stake
out your house, too?” I asked, my mind still on the rabid fan girls. I imagined
what it would be like, having a bunch of adoring girls around you every second.
That was probably what the Jonas Brothers had wondered before they got famous.
Now, they were dissing the same fans that made them- wait, no, that’s Zac
Efron.

“Yeah, I have
no idea why,” Luke said, shrugging and managing to look remarkably unassuming.
Really?
You don’t know why? Have you looked in a mirror or checked your bank balance
lately?
“I mean, I dropped out of the football team, so it’s not coz I’m a
jock, right?” He grinned. “Don’t know what my appeal to them is.”

Could be
because of your charm
.
I was being blown away by it and he wasn’t even
using
it on me-
wait,
did I just say that bit about charm out loud?

Luke raised his
eyes from the carpet to glance at me. “Huh?”

I did! I did
say it out loud! What is wrong with me?

“I said I’m not
a stalker,” I stammered, struggling to keep my cool.
He didn’t hear me
.
“Never stalked anyone.” I spread my hands and shrugged. “I don’t have time for
it.”

“Yeah?” Luke
yawned.
Am I boring you?
“So I guess I should, you know, thank you for
bringing me work to do,” he said, a teasing note in his tone.

“Well, I was
sent. By Mrs. Williams. I was being a Good Samaritan,” I said in classic ‘aw, shucks,
it was nothing’ mode.

“Right. Well,
thanks anyway,” he said. “I probably won’t do the homework, but thanks for
bringing it.”

“No problem,” I
said, my voice coming out as a whisper. God, I needed a boyfriend so that I
wouldn’t react like this to every cute guy I spoke to. Or maybe it was just the
Luke factor
. I need an intervention.

Luckily, Mr.
Smith chose that moment to walk in, carefully balancing a tray on his upturned
palm. I thought they only did that in movies, I thought, hoping he wouldn’t drop
the tray. I had endured much to get here.

“Your hot
chocolate and cookies, ma’am,” he announced, placing the tray on a table in
front of me. Apparently he had forgotten the whole ‘call me Celsi, call me Mr.
Smith thing’ and I didn’t think about reminding him because the cookies on the
tray looked delicious. I shivered in anticipation as Mr. Smith arranged
everything just so and straightened.

“Master Astor,
is there anything I can get you?” he asked Luke. Maybe I was reading way too
much into this, but I could feel Luke’s eyes on me as I bit into a soft,
coconut cookie (Caramel Delight, my favorite!), my eyes closed.
Mmmmm.
Heaven on Earth.

“No thanks, I’m
good,” Luke said. I opened my eyes just to see Mr. Smith turn to leave the
room.

“Thanks for the
refreshments, Mr. Smith,” I said through a mouthful of crumbs.

Mr. Smith
turned to me, a ghost of a smile on his face and bowed. “You’re welcome,
ma’am.”

He left and I
took a small sip of hot chocolate, the warmth going right through my body.
I
needed that.
Looking up from the table, my eyes met with Luke’s. We both
flushed. I don’t know why he was embarrassed, but I was kinda eating like a
hungry savage right here.

Once again, my
mouth spoke before my mind said to. “It’s considered rude to stare in most cultures.”

“I’m just
trying to place you,” he replied, sounding slightly defensive.

I wiped my
mouth with a napkin that good old Mr. Smith had so thoughtfully provided.

“I’ve been in
most of your classes since the 8
^th
grade!” I said, wolfing down
another cookie while Luke stared at me in amusement. “Not that
you
would
notice
me
.”

“I notice
everything,’ he said simply and pointed a finger at me. “It’s Casey, right?”

I shook my
head. “Wrong. You were close, though. It’s Celsi.”

A slow smile
lit up his face. “Yeah, Celsi. That’s right. I think I have some of your
pencils,” he grinned.

He wasn’t
lying. In almost all of our Science classes, he asked me for a pencil.

“Hey, do you
still have my blue polar bear pencil?” I asked him. That was my lucky pencil,
yet I had foolishly let him borrow it a couple of weeks ago. And Luke wasn’t
the type of guy you approached in the hall to ask for your pencil back, mostly
because he rolled five men deep. And also because he would laugh at you, like
he was doing now. “I kind of need that back,” I ended lamely.

Snickering,
Luke said “I honestly don’t think so, but I’ll look around-who the-?”

The door buzzer
had just sounded.

“Sounds like
you’ve got guests,” I said, taking a large gulp of my chocolate. If his guests
were from Dalton I was out of there. Luke hung out with the most popular people
at school, and most of them were snobs.

“I wasn’t
expecting any-,” he started, standing up and pulling up his jeans, which were
riding dangerously low.

Mr. Smith
walked back into the parlor, closely tailed by two all too familiar faces. If
my mouth hadn’t been full, I would have groaned. Wendy Remington and Ahmed El
Hamed.
Great.

“Mr. El Hamed
and Miss Remington here to see you, sir,” he said clearly.

Ahmed (Shazia’s
hot older brother) stepped forward, holding up a bottle of Jack Daniels in one
hand and Smirnoff in the other.

“Yo, Astor!” he
yelled, giving a grinning Luke a one armed hug. “Why the hell weren’t you at
school today, man?”

Stepping
forward to plant a kiss on Luke’s cheek, Wendy Remington cooed, “We missed you,
Luke. What happened?”

“I had a
headache,” Luke said, stretching now that he was on his feet. Ahmed laughed,
clapping his friend on his back.

“Only Astor can
skip school coz he got a headache,” he said, turning in my direction to put the
liquor on a table. His eyes fell on me and he frowned. “Dude, what’s going on?”
he asked, staring from me to Luke. “Celsi?”

“Hi, Ahmed,” I
said, giving him a nervous smile.

Let’s get one
thing in the open. I think Ahmed is hot. I also think he’s a jerk. He can be
nice, but not all the time, and rarely to me. I just hoped that he would at
least
try
to be nice to me today, but it looked like he was halfway
tipsy (on a Monday afternoon, no less) so I just hoped for the best and
prepared for a flood of nastiness.