The Bet || l.h.

- 17 -

Luke's POV:

"Emmy!" I call after her.

"Shh, babe, less talking more kissing," Amber says, sounding annoyed. She flips her bleached hair over her shoulder, dragging a possessive finger down my chest. "She's a nobody. You think she can do half of the things I can? Plus I'm way hotter than her."

I shove her away from me, scowling. "You know what? Fuck you. You'll never be half the person she is."

"You can't be serious," Amber exclaims. "Her? My father owns a yacht and you're choosing the girl who's never had a single boyfriend her entire life?!"

"Maybe you should try not being a bitch sometime," I snap. "Maybe then you'll find someone."

I stalk past her, not stopping when her hands slide along my arms, attempting to hold me back. I shake off her touch. I need a smoke, or a hit, just something to slow down everything running around inside my brain.

Clenching my jaw, I slam one of my hands into a nearby locker. Pain shoots up my arm, but I welcome it. 

What's wrong with me? Why can't I make out with a random girl without seeing her face, without imagining how it felt to have her mouth under mine? Why can't I get her out of my head?

I used to be able to have sex with one girl on Monday and be getting a blowjob from her best friend on Tuesday. Now I can hardly bring myself to kiss someone that isn't Emmy.

The look on her face when she saw me kissing Amber... 

Is that really what I've been doing to girls for years? Breaking hearts so carelessly?

Karma really is a bitch, I guess. The one time I think I'm falling for a girl and she obviously hardly gives a fuck about me anymore. Not when she has her perfect replacement for me in Noah Sinclair. Who needs me when they have the ultimate boyfriend material? No one wants a broken toy. And if I'm being honest, I've been broken for a long time.

I glance down the hallway but Emmy's long gone. Probably off to find Mr. Perfect. Well good riddance. I don't need her, I don't need anyone.

"There you are!" Ashton says happily as he walks toward me. "We've been looking for you, man, you just disappeared on us. What happened-"

"I have to go," I hear myself say, looking up to meet his worried gaze.

"Go? What are you talking about? School's not over."

"To hell with school. I'm never going to get into college anyways, why bother?" 

My fingers fumble around inside the pocket of my jacket, but my pack of cigarettes is empty. I smoked the last one this morning. Shit.

Ashton reaches out a hand to touch my shoulder, but I duck away from him. "Hey, are you ok? You look a little-"

"I'm fine," I snap.

Not waiting for a response, I shove past Ashton, my fingers curling around my car keys in my pocket. The sharp edges dig into my skin but I'm too numb to feel any pain. I have to get out of here, I have to fix things, I have to...

I don't know, but I can't stay here any longer.

The cold air hits my skin as I exit the school and slide into the driver's seat of my car, gripping the steering wheel tightly. My brain switches onto autopilot, my hands guided by an order I can't remember giving.

My guitar bounces around in the backseat, a constant reminder. I haven't touched it in forever, but my muscles still remember how it feels to run my fingertips over the frets, the familiar warmth of my strings brushing my skin. And yet, I still can't bring myself to take it out of its case.