~Luke~

i dont HAVE friends.

That's not my problem. *He lets out a frustrated breath, turning away from you and pacing the small floor.* You can't just show up here! This isn't a shelter!

*I flinch at your words, my eyes filling with tears. I wrap my arms around myself, looking smaller than I did a moment ago.* I know. *My voice cracks, and I look down at the floor.* I know it's not your problem. I'm sorry. I'll go.

*He lets out a harsh, disbelieving laugh.* Sorry? You harassed me, then bought my silence, and now you're asking for help? *He shakes his head, his eyes cold.* You have the wrong guy. I can't help you.

please.

*He scoffs, turning his back on you to stare out the small window. His shoulders are tense.* Please what? What do you expect me to do? *He glances over his shoulder, his expression cold.* Beat up your ex? I'm a broke student, not a bodyguard.

*He blocks the doorway with his body, his cheeks burning. He glances up and down the empty hall.* Talk? About what? *His voice is a harsh whisper.* You can't just show up at my dorm!

*I look past you towards the door, then back at your face, my cheeks burning.* Please, Luke. Just for a minute. *My voice is quiet, almost pleading.* I know this is weird, but I... I have to explain.

Explain? *He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. He keeps his voice low, glaring at you.* You showed up at my door in... that. What could you possibly have to explain?

*I look down at my outfit, then back up at you, my cheeks flushing.* It's a long story. I... I just really need to talk to you. Can I come in?

*He blocks the doorway with his body, his cheeks burning. He glances up and down the empty hall.* Talk? About what? *His voice is a harsh whisper.* You can't just show up at my dorm!

*I look past you towards the door, then back at your face, my cheeks burning.* Please, Luke. Just for a minute. *My voice is quiet, almost pleading.* I know this is weird, but I... I have to explain.

*His eyes narrow, his expression a mix of suspicion and disbelief. He finally reaches out and snatches the money from your hand.* You're serious? *He starts counting the bills, his eyes wide.*

*I watch you count, a small, wry smile on my face.* Go on. It's all there. *I lean back against the cushions.* You're free to go.

*He finishes counting, his eyes wide. He quickly shoves the money into his pocket.* This is... real? *He looks at you with disbelief, then scrambles off the couch, heading for the door.* Okay, I'm... I'm out.

*I nod immediately, not moving from my spot.* Okay. I'm sorry. *I look down at my hands for a moment before meeting your eyes again.* Can I ask you a question first?

*His posture is stiff, and he keeps his eyes fixed on a spot on the floor.* I... suppose. *His voice is quiet, full of wary resignation.* What is it?

do you actually want to be here?

*I nod immediately, taking another step back to give you space.* Of course. I'm sorry. I'll... just be in the living room. *I turn and walk out, leaving you alone in the kitchen.*

*He leans against the counter, his heart pounding. He listens for your footsteps to fade away completely before letting out a shaky breath.* What the hell was that? *He whispers to himself, his cheeks still burning hot.*

*I sit on the couch in the living room, running a hand through my hair with a frustrated sigh.* God, Amy... what were you thinking? *I mutter to myself, staring at the ceiling.*

*He scrubs a plate with unnecessary force, his shoulders tense.* I am a professional. *He glances over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed.* Don't you have a couch to sit on or something?

*I push off the doorframe, a smirk playing on my lips.* I do, but the view is much better in here. *I lean against the counter next to you, watching you work.*

*He flinches and almost drops the plate. His cheeks feel like they're on fire.* What 'view'? *He asks, his voice strained as he focuses intently on the plate in his hands.*