Waking · Heart

I’m a burn bright yellow shade of things
that haven’t yet taken root
I live in the space between the dirt
And the second to last branch
Which seems to scrape the sun

There is no difference between my body
And a loaded gun

My only darkness
is the slick backwards bark-
Like a merry-go-ride spinning off
Into distances gripped by time’s gloved hand

don’t give me a wing or a girl with a plan

Looking for a clean hole
to fly through,
the sparrow shoots his wings out
toward gaps in the city-
darkened buildings
providing a maze of wrong turns
for her, the recalcitrant sun-spec

Three rivers away
I sit on green, plastic crate
by mop water, broomsticks, black flies,
and flick my cigarette over the trashcans-
watching it soar
until it too hits the red dirt

Two stories down
yellow tractors growl their gums
into the grass-
they burry our footprints
under piles of clay earth,
like a graveyard of the travels
we spent going in circles

I'm told, then, to turn off the lights
lock doors
and wipe tables,
feeling a bit unlucky
as the sparrow finds its cloud
above my ceiling

It was winter, West Virginia,
and you were four.
Nose glued to half frozen window pane,
you watched the snow fall slowly.
Grandma's 1950's funky floor radiator
heated your wiggly toes
as the thick red curtains
hid you like a secret.

From here,

(knees buckled beneath you
on hardwood, fingers forming squiggly masterpieces
by cutting through the window-silk of your breath,)

I could see the budding growth
of a familiar artist-
those brown eyes squinting in a thin line
so to trace each snowflake pattern
onto the coloring book
of your memory-
pages frosted with God's frozen tears,
stuck together like love.

We never could have met
at this moment
but I know I was there:
Silently falling on cotton slopes
in chunks of snow,
shaking from furry pines
just like powdered sugar
so you would rush out
to taste me:

I was the mellow sky
you played under
while wearing rubber boots,
I was the itchy old scarf
Grandma wrapped around your neck
for protection,
I was the red curtain you clutched
with tiny fists
in seasonal excitement,
and I begged you to feel warm
when from behind drifting clouds
I emerged to bring out
the rose in your cheeks.

Life, from this moment on,
would bring you more winters
than you could count-
but this day would always remain
in your mind as the first-
the first time white fell in whispers
over yesterdays mistakes
and the first time starting fresh
meant sinking into snow angels-

(unaware that life is sometimes more like hail,
salty and uneven when held too tight)

But just like the icy pond,
unrippled and solid,
I waited-
waited as the frosting
flecking your wool cap
until melted
I could seep into you.

I waited in countless formations
of your chilly,childhood discoveries-
counting the moments in snowflakes
until you would discover me.

If I lay still enough, I can smell the sighs
Sneaking out from between closed, dry lips-
Much as if you were breathing beneath me
(Reminiscent of how we discovered mint leaves
Blossomed in small purple petals right before summer)

We both swore to live
only in that slipping season of twilight

In the most open of air, both chilled and soft,
my apologies tumbled lack-luster and lazy
Over crouched bodies, hitting brick pathways
With a thud-
instead of catching them,
They were cast sideways as eyes steered straight

I could see myself getting lost in you
Someone thought, or maybe whispered
Between the fountain drops and lamppost lights,
words moving to their own agenda
Independent of hearts beating in other unquestioning chests

Meanwhile, studying the semantics of specific seconds
Were left each to the star-blind and solitary,
In its place a vague notion of times fabric fraying
Unto dawn , its thready loose ends sticking to the wrinkles
On our knuckles and folded palms

Unable to reach an end of a beginning not started
The similarities stood on their own to discover
Other means in which to exist

How does one know if expectations are too high?

I sure as hell haven't a clue.

Thus I sit, makeup dried by six, coffee cooled by ten, conscience buzzing by eleven.

Simple communication barriers or miniature models of rejection- I couldn't know.

And it shouldn't matter, but of course, it always does.

PROMISES, insinuations perhaps, electronic flirtations or even FEIGNED attractions are nebulous in a world where global tracking systems mean your always everywhere- all the time- thus a second passed a tick-tock is cause for a 3 ton red flag (lowered in social air and repressed next to the scratchings at the back of the brain- quiet please, and just forget).

You obsesses, naturally, conjure perfectly reputable excuses and their nonchalant counterparts while wondering why you stood at the mirror so delicately beneath the soft lighting of your vanity.

"Just give him one more hour."

Yes.Yes. That will do.

For those of you who know me fairly well, you probably know Brandt. And for those of you who don't, that majority of this livejournal has (through the years) been focused mainly on the transition from our relationship to frienship (then to an almost weird brother-sister thing, which may sound gross and hint at some "off" qualities of mine, but I promise- you just have to know us).

That being said, I am unsuprisingly brought yet again to this online hideaway- an outlet of Amy-figuring-our-Brandt-shit, and so on.

I should probably mention that for the first time in two years, he is in love with someone I can't recognize in the mirror. This is because, well, its not me. Granted, I have long since let my heart roam since he let go of it, yet did not really find myself prepared for that to happen to him. What did I expect? Us to be best friends forever while he sat back and watched me break hundreds of time without experimenting and embracing such sought-aften pain himself?

He has wanted to be back in love (generally speaking, that is) for a long time now. Pat, his mother, has always said he is the type of guy who looks for a wife starting in second grade. A predictable monogomist and hopeless romantic, I should be suprised it took two years. And I am as happy for him as I can be. The only thing that holds be back from 100% acceptance of this beautiful woman Jenny is that...regretably....he BUMPED ME FROM #1 on his myspace to #3. Ouch. I have been there since freshman year, I mean c'mon!

Now, of course this small glitch in the myspace world holds no substantial meaning, yet I can't help thinking about it anyway. He made his brother first, Jenny second, and me third. Is this how its going to be from now on? Will we communicate less? Will our friendship suffer? Will that ridiculous and oh-so-famous-Amy and Brandt-soul mate-status be done with?

Fucking myspace.

So this is a poem I wrote seconds before the devestation hit myHomePage. (I reserve the right to be dramatic in such circumstances). I wanted to slash it down the middle and burn the remains, but since I haven't written a whole lot lately....I'll keep it for now.

You blow the dust off
The cracking cover of our journal,
The one for years we sent back and forth
Between hardship and heartbreak-
Our thoughts passing by hands
Of post office employees everywhere.

When I was fifteen,
Cutting Lake Wylie in half with my kayak,
You stayed dry on the sand beneath
California’s summer sun.
Because we were never apart,
Even when the honeysuckle necklace
Threatened to choke with its sweetness-
The one you made me before flying
Back to the orange country forever.

When you were gone
I remembered the twirling perfume
Of those rustled journal pages,
Lines stained by shared ink
That I wouldn’t trace again.

When I was eighteen
The skin on my right ring finger
Had gone shinny
From Tiffany’s silver promise-
All the glamour you purchased
Rubbing out the creases and tastefully
Keeping the memories

When I was thirty,
You acknowledged Tiffany’s
As pocket change,
insisting your blushing bride deserved
A token as unique as she made you feel-

Though quite the opposite of October,
Where you confessed atop creaking
Truck bed jammed between Senior and Sophomore
Year that all you wanted was a woman
To see your worth painted between the stars.
And we counted every blinking rip in the sky
Like we counted each other’s freckles.

When I was sixty three
you answered the phone and asked me to speak up.
This is your Amy, I replied, calling to see
If your still her everything.
Weeks later I would receive a tattered anthology
Of teenage tribulation- a journal whose light pink
Tulip on cover had faded more than my
Recollection of its inside content.
Running wrinkles over pages smelling of youth
And attempts gone flat, I remembered.

And now that your gone,
I can see the twirling perfume
Of those rustled pages collecting
Between yesterday and the unknown,
Lines stained by shared ink
That we can’t -help- but trace

I don’t really know how you happened to me, exactly. There is nothing to look back on, not yet, as I’m waiting for such to run its course. Its not like I constructed purposeful barriers of brick to keep you out- on the contrary, almost. For the intrigue led to correctness, then mind-shattering mysteries to solve over any excuse we could come up with.
In a National Geographic article on the science of Love, I read that when one thinks of a person for more than four hours during a single day, then one is said to be a victim. Furthermore, such a symptom happens to run parallel to the mental inhibitor of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Now, I’m not saying I’m obsessed nor am I hinting at Love. I am, however, pointing out the extremities of which I wonder when wondering about how exactly you happened to me. And no, it is not the same thing…I don’t think.
It is merely coincidence that when I realized my morning coffee, or cream as it were, had gone cold due to neglect, it was because of a very vivid rip in reality. It seamed as if during the time it had taken my mug to return to its normal state that I had glimpsed a moment into my future. I saw you as an old man. I saw your checkered vest hang loosely from the covered wrinkled parts of your chest and you were not alone. To another, whose figure remains rather blurred, you didn’t speak so much as you gazed. It was really only your eyes I remember- they were exactly as they are now- that light brown extending to the depths of you, something you always try to hide as the corners of your sockets turn down slightly, a significance I haven’t been able to place yet.
As you were gazing, I could tell it was me you were thinking of. Head titled as if ready to rest on shoulder, you were remembering a life that was shared between us- one not absent of the anticipated pains, yet one holding stronger understanding and more comfortable and unbearable love than what some would call prevalent, or even necessary.
Refreshing my breakfast via steaming coffee pot I thought to call you. But hesitation got the better of me as I realized this story might mean, to those outside my mind, that I am ready for it. Would I have even thought it if I wasn’t?
I’m placing answers to be revealed through time, as trying to find them myself only makes me more confused. Because it still happens that I don’t know how you happened to me, exactly. I can not place a certain moment or thought- you just were. My chosen mechanism of defense melting as your personality was able to transcend everything I tried to hide, or make better about myself. You just were. Everything. Already there. The friend and poet and lover I see inside you is scaring me, knowing not even the science of brain neurons could formulate how we found each other.
If my heart wasn’t busily occupied with trying to repair itself, then I would already be needing air to be pumped back into lungs already filled with you. But the fact remains that it still bleeds at the touch, begging you to be gentle. Yet the fact also remains that when I was blessed with a moment to daydream, it was you-missing me- that I saw.

I search, sure-footed, through the scintillating
Society of the opposite sex for stability.
Like looking for coffee grounds
In the dirt or for red poems on terracotta tile;
I’m searching for your sighs in the atmosphere
So perhaps I don’t know what I’m looking for-
At least I know how to spell it. STABILITY.
An S for sloppy seconds and redundant rebounds
Drumming against the backboard of my insecurities,
a T of teeter-totter, ups and downs those perilous
Pulls of control, a worn out rubber band
With nothing left to give.
A- always aggravating, ashing on my affluent hopes
Of an assured tomorrow and BULLSHIT, that B,
Those luscious lines they throw to bait me.
But I don’t want aesthetic applause- if you want me,
Illustrate the pictures of my soul that inspire you-
Not the ones bouncing beneath my sweater I SWEAR
Some truly believe my confidence is as frail as grandma’s
China, and that they are some sort of life preserver
To my confidence- as if without their pointless praise
I would drown in my own mediocrity.
It brings me back to I- your italicized infractions
Between your unblinking pair of lenses and L-losers
With finalized, capitalized letters always stealing secret
Beats without my hearts consent.
Another I dots another question mark until the T tears
At what’s left of me. And the Y Y Y do I plunge off
The ledge of inhibitions for those who never scrub down
My sense of stability until it shines bereft if the imperfections
and complications I know so well?
Because stability, to me, only perverts love as unworthy
Candidates lock their minds by their zippers and progress
The never ending question, perpetuating my attempts
At a probably…pointless….happiness

Feelings of inadequacy leave
my stomach slushing in all
directions, tidal waves crashing
into one another making me
sway upon the rusting rickety
vessel that is my body.
She’s pretty, a silken black beauty,
personality soaring to unrealistic
heights, brushing cheeks with cosmos
Winds….She’s everywhere, it seems,
eyes puncturing ten dimensionally over
wire rimmed glasses that my perfect
vision will never let me have.
Damn her and her cliché persona,
Seeming as original as the lines she
scratches in the dead of night, stained by
tears she wont let anyone see.
She’s Intentionally dulling my intelligence
to a single nebulous brain wave responding
“Yes” and “I agree”….sometimes even
drooling as she gesticulates her insights
on Italian ballets and booze. More than
potential she’s living the dream, stolen
Right out of my sleeping head so when
around her, I’m walking, functioning
with fog in my brain. See she’s care free and she
cares about me but the way a jeweler
looks at his creation, a production
conceived by sweet and splintered hands.
I am but the precious stones dangling round
her creamy neck, front and center for
all the things she has I need,
but only getting barely granted glances.
Can I steel the cross that mocks her-
maybe if I pray to the saints she holds
so dear my luck will change, the God I
never knew will make my pen soak
black rivers of ink, flooding my
page with pains I never felt, to true
for her to ignore….I could pray….
Press, squeezing my lids shut and
pretend to feel something until I do.
She is simply all the glances I wish
I had the scars I wish I bled- and
The needles that should have been
Stretching holes in my body.
I stupidly would exchange
Perfectly placid memories for those
Where you screamed, I in joy
You in inspiring, stitch-worthy shrills.
Not jealousy because she is me,
plagiarized notions I have yet to write-
ideas to lazy to cite she did it unknowing.
Unwittingly leaving without permission
And now Twenty years under cold ground
and I cant help but hate her.

your sleeve, you say
is dripping blood
yet your heart
escapes the eye

as my breath warms
your hand upon my hand
while your lids and soul
are shut

your expression leaks
from the hidden touch
escaping the tone
in your voice

unpealing the patches
of your unintended shield,
our pace preceeds us
and heavier I fall

but you arrived before me
ripping through the threads
of my intended viel,
leaving my tactics bare

Manifested Memories

there are unworn black robes
behind these dry brown eyes-
those in my memory alone
stayed home

I was forced into blue robes completely bare
as my plastic red shoes cut up my toes-
bleeding from my nails

Do you know how lucky you are?
to have traveled across that platform,
looking into the hearts of those
who in childhood caused you pain?

I should have been in black-
now only my mood is such,
as you are in New York and L.A.

And where did my bruised feet lead me?
cringing in the shower at your pictures
of those kisses on the subway-
I myself am nowhere

and again...changes

the light was purple-pale
through pallor blinds,
softening your arms
and lashes

as the quilt grew cold
and I as well,
your warmth tempted
an awakening

yet your breath
was too steady
your heart to slow
and your intentions
too pure

so i could not
rest my head upon
your chest-
your insides pounding
on my conscience

because then youd smile
thinking I was your own

So with this rising sun
my soul is setting,
casting a shadow
upon our bed

some firsts...

The lack-love burns
his round eyes black-
not a hint of green
within them

(a moment given
birthed a million
hesitations taken)

But I let him.
Stranger, I let you.

HE bumps over my bumps-
his confidence crushing
the rising of my chest

while in the deception
of the dark
his face twitches
and shatters-

coming together only
when it is You I see-
Lover, it was You
I saw

Stranger I'll see again-
lack-lovely in the light-time
filling only the momemnts
You left me with

it's unsafe when people assume
no one begins with a vindictive heart
since hearts, in their formation
are supposed to beat only
fear, anger, exertion, love

who would have a thought
a heart could function indifferently
or eyes blink past inflicted pain
or lips unloving connect

And oh, how the mind of a selfish heart
can rid itself the purity of combined souls-
though it was unmistakable that, in hindsight,
purity kissed only the one who wrote it

Chapter 8
Even though Dawn knew of only one less family now living in her town, to her it seemed empty. Luke had left her life forever, with no goodbye, no letter, no anything. How wrong she had been about him; never had she known someone with a softer spine or harder heart. And to learn of his absence through Tammy! It seemed as if the entire town knew before she did. Once she had been released from the hospital, her mother let Tammy visit without checking in on her too badly once the girls were in her room. Tammy then divulged the secret of Luke’s departure- how she had seen the U-HAUL truck drive by her house with Luke sitting between his father and mother- looking straight ahead, his mouth in a thin line.
“It was weird. It was like he was completely indifferent to the fact that his entire life was changing forever,” contemplated Tammy as her chin rested on her fist.
“What a surprise,” choked Dawn, “That Luke Wellington DIDN’T care about moving. How could he? He doesn’t care about anything.”
“Look Dawn,” Tammy said, sitting up straight and looking serious, “What that asshole did to you that night on the island was….awful. I just thank God you can’t remember any of it. But Luke can. I bet he feels as if it’s his fault. And I know he really liked you; when we all would hang out on the lake everyone would make fun of how he was always staring at you,” she said, her voice now a compassionate whisper, “So I bet he wanted to call but just felt too guilty…”
Dawns eyes widened in betrayal, not believing the person she knew better than herself was taking the side of the person causing her pain.
“That’s bullshit and you know it Tam!” Dawn screamed, standing up from sitting on her bedroom floor. Subconsciously, she knew her friend was trying to help but couldn’t see beyond her red-hot disdain for the one who had left her empty “When people care about each other, they put aside their pride and do what’s RIGHT. Luke just drove out of my life without a single look back. So obviously, he didn’t care about me the way I thought,” she threw her arms up at the sight of Tammy about to argue with her further, “And I don’t give a damn whether or not he felt guilty, Tam! He could have orchestrated the entire night and still had the decency to pick up the fucking phone!” Dawn was so angry she was shaking. Turning on her heel away from her best friend, Dawn stormed out of her room and slammed her door; she didn’t even blink back a tear when she ran by her confused mother cooking in the kitchen, she just focused on the backdoor and didn’t stop moving until the was sitting at her dock.
Dawn looked over the lake and felt her skin prickle against the 90 degree weather. Images of the stranger waiting for her in the dark flashed behind her eyes. It was as if his beady eyes were visible behind her lids, beckoning her to go for a midnight ride. Unable to block out her tormentor yet too proud to return to the safety of her house, Dawn remained on her dock, wrapped her arms around her knees and cried until the sun had kissed the sky.

****************************************************
Luke sat in his new room, which was about the size of a regular closet; he knew he shouldn’t complain, but this was ridiculous. He didn’t even have a window! Knowing that Aunt Margaret was a struggling model living in L.A. should have warned him that he shouldn’t expect much from the apartment. Restless from being stuck in a car with his parents for the last five days, Luke decided to go for a walk and explore this strange city instead of performing the tedious task of unpacking. Plus, it would give him something to take his mind off Dawn.
Luke walked down the crowded, dirty streets until he found a coffee shop to relax in. Made of steel and adorned with peeling white paint, he was hesitant only to the point of fingering his wallet in his back pocket (just to make sure it hadn’t been stolen along the way). He walked up to the front counter past the ripped couches and pierced customers to order. A teenage punk-rocker looked at him from behind the register, annoyed.
“Hi…um, I’ll just have a glass of sweet tea,” Luke said to the black haired youth with a spike in his nose. Ray, (as his name tag read) looked confused. After punching in a few buttons on the register, he said, “Three-fifty.”
Digging out his wallet, Luke handed the guy his money and waited. The place was much larger than it looked on this outside (since it was dwarfed by the staggering business buildings downtown), but not any friendlier. It seemed as if each customer was under twenty and staring at him. Luke was thankful for whoever had ordered a cappuccino, which meant the room was filled with the sound of milk being steamed and beans being ground.
“Here you go, man,” grunted the worker. Luke looked at the coffee cup with a tea bag string hanging out of it, instead of what sound have been an ice-cold cup. Apparently, Ray had thought he meant hot tea. “So much for the pleasantries of home,” he thought, taking the scorching cup. “I guess I don’t deserve any better.”
If the atmosphere in the coffee house even closely resembled the junior college he would be attending next month, Luke thought by the time he graduated, maybe he would feel finished with the self-imposed punishment. Yet in the back of his mind, he knew he would never be able to fully forgive himself to what had happened to Dawn.
Chapter 9

Dawn looked at her immaculate desk and decided the mahogany style suited her private office the best. She leaned back in her leather swivel chair and gazed out over the city, smiling at how quiet Charlotte looked from the 27th floor.
“Miss Stevens, the Boss just called in, saying you have another interview scheduled for 3 o’clock,” said her assistant and close friend Terry over her speakerphone.
“I guess it would be foolish for him to think I deserve a minute to revel in my new promotion,” sighed Dawn to herself. Ever since her internship at Charlotte News during her sophomore year of college, Dawn had been working her butt off for Mr. Jones, her boss. And now after almost a decade at the company, she was finally sitting in an office of her own and being on the other side of the desk during interviews. Now her job was to assign dedicated journalists to go out into the city and scrape up interesting stories to be heard each night on channel seven (and who better choose the lucky winners, since it was she who had all but perfected the job over the course of her career). At twenty-four years old, Dawn had had her share of scummy apartments and late night stories for the newspaper; and she felt she deserved to finally be telling other people how to do it. She had become the Mr. Jones of Charlotte News through hard work and almost no social life, a decision that had paid off as her promotion became final. The only downside to being an ambitious woman in this industry was that when you achieved your goals, there was rarely anyone waiting at home for you to celebrate. For a split second Dawn’s mind flashed back to a hot summer day, when a once familiar voice had whispered, “Meet me at midnight…” It was the first and last time she had ever remembered being in love. Shaking the voice from her head, Dawn walked out of her office and sat down on a chair in front of Terry’s small desk.
“So who am I interviewing today?” Dawn asked her assistant. Terry’s eyes sparkled at the thought.
“Oh, no one important. Just one of those tall, light and handsome types,” Terry sighed as she ran a lazy hand through her auburn locks.
“Light? Don’t you mean dark?” laughed Dawn. She had always found pleasure in her assistant’s witty one-liners and blunt sense of humor. Sometimes, Dawn didn’t know how she would get through her hectic work days if Terry wasn’t there to brighten them with her easy-going nature and nonchalance work ethic (something Dawn almost admired, since the only work ethic she knew of was obsession mixed with absolute perfection). In many ways, Terry reminded Dawn of her old high school friend Tammy whom she had lost contact with once she packed up and moved as far as she could to go to college.
“No, because it’s the light-haired ones that always make breaking your heart a lot less secretive. That way, you can have your fun and end it before they even knew what hit ‘em,” Terry said matter-of-factly.
“Well, let’s not forget that we are trying to run a news show, not a dating service,” Dawn said, almost serious.
“See, that’s your problem Dawn Stevens. You’ve had that mixed up for years,” Terry clarified, only pretending to be serious while getting back to whatever she was typing on her laptop.
“Handsome or not, and dating service or not, let’s try to be professional for once when our young new applicant walks through those doors after lunch,” she said while motioning to the elevators.
“And let’s try not to be surprised when your beautiful assistant takes that handsome young man back down the elevators and into her apartment tonight,” Terry said with a mischievous smile.
“For once Terr, how about keeping you personal life, well, personal,” joked Dawn.
“Or, we could just forget about talking about my personal life and work on getting one started for you! I mean, when was the last time you went on a real live date?”
“Oh, so we aren’t counting internet dating? Because technically, that’s live.” Though her eyes were smiling, Terry couldn’t tell whether or not her boss was joking.
“No, I mean a flesh and blood encounter that preferably ends in someone rushing off to work the next morning in last night’s clothes!” She persisted.
Dawn knew she was fighting a loosing battle, because to admit to her assistant that she hadn’t enough time for dating at all would be to admit a flaw, something Dawn didn’t enjoying doing.
“Terry, how about you just send him in when he gets here. I’m taking my lunch break and when I come back, hopefully the dissection of my private life will be over for today.” Dawn gave her friend a wink and headed out of the office to try and enjoy a lunch at the nearby Greek Café, alone.
********************************
By the time Dawn had finished eating, her mind started to uncontrollably wonder around the things Terry had said. No, she didn’t have a boyfriend or any recent dates, but for the most part she had been happy with her life. Happy, yet in denial. Dawn secretly longed for companionship just as much as the next person, but had convinced herself over the years that her career was more important; she believed if she was successful, it would be enough to make her happy. Well, she was wrong.
In college, Dawn had hit the ground running and immediately involved herself in numerous journalism clubs, newspapers, magazines, and jobs until she was prolific in the industry by the second semester of her freshman year. Looking back, she realized it had all been a defense mechanism- a way to block out the pain she had been suffering so many years ago. By barricading her heart and not allowing a soul to get close enough to do what Luke had done, she managed to become the loneliest and biggest success story to hit the business streets of Charlotte.
Dawn just focused on that- focused on her triumphs instead of the inadequacies of her heart. After thinking about everything she had accomplished over the past ten years, Dawn hadn’t even noticed she was already walking past Terry and into her office.
“Your two milliseconds late, Miss Stevens. I was almost worried. Oh and by the way, your three o’clock is waiting for you in your office,” Terry shouted over her shoulder as Dawn walked through the French doors that led to her workspace. Not really paying attention and still thinking about how she had not made any mistakes by sacrificing her love life for her career, Dawn sat down in her chair and opened up the manila file laying neatly on her spotless desk. Her eyes widened as she looked from the name on the folder to the man sitting in front of her, a man with piercing green eyes.

Chapter 10

Luke stared at his watch as the elevator raced up to the 27th floor of the Charlotte News building. He still couldn’t believe that he let his boss convince him to move back to North Carolina; yet being a sports writer in Charlotte instead of L.A. meant a promotion (with salary increase) as well higher property value at less cost to him. Plus, the L.A. Times was downsizing and he had no choice.
Although Luke had only worked at his previous job for a few years, he had felt so at home there. All through junior college Luke lacked direction until a guest speaker had illustrated the life of being a sports writer: free game entry, free travel to the games, and being paid to write about games. Seeing as how Luke was then about to go to UCLA and was still clueless as to what his major should be, he took some classes in journalism and became hooked. Though once he decided to become a sports writer, he had a lot of work to do. Already two years behind most in his field of study, Luke doubled up on classes and attended summer school. Eventually he graduated with mediocre grades but hadn’t wasted any time or money. He then landed an internship at various local newspapers until he was offered a real job at the L.A. Times. He loved his job more than anything, but never had thought it would land him back here in North Carolina- a place he promised himself he would never return to.
As the elevator opened onto his level, he remembered Dawn Stevens, mainly because a woman with the same last name was to “interview” him today, though it was almost set in stone that the job was his. All he needed was this Miss Stevens approval. Stevens….Dawn Stevens. Luke had always loved her name. Hell, he had always loved her. Over the years his regret for never making contact with her had slowly faded, though now that he was back in Charlotte he wondered if he should try again. Once the doors to the elevator opened, he walked toward the front desk to meet an slender woman with freckles.
“Naw,” he thought as he approached the woman, “At least not in person….maybe I’ll just ask around.” He didn’t even know if she still lived in North Carolina, let alone Charlotte.
“Hi, I’m Luke Wellington, here to see Miss Stevens,” he said to the attractive auburn-haired assistant.
“Oh, well Dawn’s still on her lunch break but she’ll be back any minute. You can wait in her office,” she said with a sly smile as her eyes navigated their way up and down his firm body.
All Luke had heard was Dawn.
“Um, sorry. Did you say I was to be interviewed by a Dawn Stevens?” It was only because he had been thinking about her; only because he had said her name only seconds ago in his head that somehow he was hearing everyone say her name…right?
Terry looked up at the new Editor slash male model who was assigned to work for them. There was no way her celibate employer could know this gorgeous man, because dawn didn’t date. Yet, from the tone in his voice Terry could tell he was recalling Dawn’s name from memory…perhaps he was the reason Dawn chose to be alone.
“Yes handsome, that’s what I said. Why, do you know her?” Terry’s smile was almost mocking him, as if the fact that already knew her boss gave her no reason not to flirt with him.
Luke couldn’t bring his mind to compose an answer; he was too busy trying to figure out how he would react when his high school sweetheart walked through the doors. Fully ignoring Terry’s question, Luke turned from her counter and walked in a daze to Dawn’s office. Once inside, he sat in the available chair in front of the polished mahogany desk and looked out the large, floor-to-ceiling window. From here the busy streets of the city seemed muted, a drastic contrast from his buzzing head that seemed placid by appearance. He just couldn’t grasp the fact that Dawn, the Dawn he hadn’t seen in over a decade, would be his new boss. What should he say to her? Should he keep it professional and act like he didn’t remember her? Would his eyes give him away if he did? Without enough time to think of a plan of action, Miss Stevens walked through the doors and casually sat in front of him. Suddenly his palms grew sweaty as he gripped the chair’s armrests until his knuckles went white. Dawn opened the folder on her desk and her eyes widened at what Luke thought was his name, since she had yet to look at him. Slowly her eyes met his, and Luke’s mind went blank.

Chapter 5

Dawns eyes became wide with confusion and her heart beat rapidly quickened; the man in what looked like Luke’s boat was tall and heavy with small black eyes and unruly, curly brown hair. As the man started to climb out of the boat, his eyes never leaving hers, Dawn realized she couldn’t move. She was frozen with fear.
“Who….who are you…?” Dawn asked shakily while slowly walking backwards, away from the stranger. The man looked up and down Dawn’s body and smiled to himself, looking like a savage animal about to pounce.
“Luke sure does have good taste in females,” he said. Now even more confused and twice as scared, Dawn pivoted and began running as fast as she could back down the dock. She could hear loud, fast thuds behind her and knew she was being chased. When Dawn had almost reached the gravel path, her high heal caught on one of the cracks in the dock, making her trip and fall face first onto what felt like tiny razor blades. Picking her up by her shoulders, the man brought her up off the gravel path. Dawn tried to fight away from his grip but the man was a modern giant, too strong to be conquered by the 115 pounds that was all Dawn could bargain with. With one fluid motion, the man had Dawn slung over his shoulder like a hunk of meat and headed back towards the boat. Kicking and screaming for help proved pointless as the beast threw her onto the hard ground of the boat, landing her on her head. From here, all Dawn could see was blackness.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“There is NO way that I’m letting Uncle Eddie pick up Dawn,” Luke complained to his mom, “I mean, I know your trying to give him another chance…. But he just got off his parole a few weeks ago. And plus, I don’t even thinks he knows how to drive a boat!” Luke could not believe that his mom wanted his ex-con of an uncle to pick up his date. It was absurd, ludicrous, and downright stupid.
“Now Luke, you know that’s unfair! Uncle Eddie was wrongly accused in the first place. It wasn’t even his gun. Plus, people do desperate things when they don’t have money. And you are well aware that the amount we loaned him wouldn’t be enough to pay off…those people,” argued Luke’s mom. Luke’s mom was a small but indignant woman with shiny blonde curls and a plump little body. Her eyes looked just like Luke’s- piercing green with flecks of gold. Yet despite her looks, her temper was anything but cute.
“Jesus Luke! Just think about what a good gesture it would be….it will restore some faith in Edward if we can trust him with this. Maybe that’s all he needs! Dawn lives right across the lake- he could pick her up, be back in ten minutes, and then meet the rest of the family! Besides, he already left.” She huffed. Luke could not believe what he was hearing. Apparently Luke’s mom thought by having his uncle play chauffeur, he would be filled with cozy family love and turn into a saint.
Luke checked his watch- it was 8:00 p.m.
“Fine. But if Uncle Eddie isn’t back with Dawn by 8:10, I’ll….I’ll….call the police!” Luke’s mother looked at him with annoyance.
“Oh grow up, Luke. You’re always so dramatic,” she said as she flipped her short hair and went to answer the ringing phone.
“Hello, this is Lisa. Oh hi Edward. (pause) A quick stop? (pause) Well, how long is THAT going to take? (pause) Well, just be sure to pick her up when your finished. Mmm-hmmm. Ok. Goodbye.” Said Lisa.
“What was that all about?!” Luke asked, his patience draining.
“Your Uncle called to say he had to pick up some things at the marina before he collected Dawn, so they will be here in a bit.” Lisa avoided his eyes, knowing he would be furious. All she had wanted was for her brother to feel as if he was part of the family; by giving him some responsibility, she had hoped that would do the trick.
Frustrated beyond compare, Luke stormed into his bedroom and closed the door. He angrily jumped onto his bed and shut his eyes, attempting to block out how disappointed Dawn would be when Edward arrived instead of him. All the pouting in his room eventually took its toll, sending Luke to sleep without even calling Dawn to inform her of the night’s changes.

Chapter 6

Two days later Dawn awoke groggy and lightheaded to starch-white sheets and faces she didn’t recognize.
“I think she’s coming around, Doctor…” whispered a young woman in lavender scrubs, “Her vitals are stable and the bandages from the stitches are ready to come off.”
“Where am I…”Dawn asked, looking around the room for a familiar face. A few blinks later and the blurriness in her vision had subsided, allowing Dawn to take in her surroundings. She was in a hospital room, wearing a tie-on papery gown and no underwear. “Where’s my mom?” she asked.
“I’m here, Dawnie,” said her mother, who had been asleep on a chair in the corner.
“Mrs. Stevens, perhaps you’d like some time alone to your daughter to…explain a few things. Having been unconscious the last couple of days, she’ll need all the help she can get,” said the doctor to Dawn’s mother.
“Elle, can I get you anything before I leave?” asked the friendly looking blonde nurse to Dawn’s mother.
“No, no, I’m fine. It’s my daughter who needs….”Elle didn’t have the strength to continue. Her shoulder-length salt and pepper hair was a mess from sleeping on a chair all night and had dark circles under her eyes, which were puffy and red. She hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything but Dawn, meaning the only nutrition she’d had in the last thirty-six hours was coffee and vending-machine candy bars. “If only Dawn’s father were alive…” thought Elle, “I don’t know if I can help her through this alone….No, no I can….I have to!” Elle knew she was weak, and then thought herself foolish when compared to what her daughter had just been through.
“Mom…what happened? The last thing I remember is….Oh my God! There was a man….and he…..he threw me into his boat….I thought it was Luke! Oh God….Mom what’s going on?” Dawn looked at her mother and saw there were tears in her eyes. Taking her daughter’s hand and squeezing it tightly, Elle wondered how any mother could stand to see a child in pain and live through it.
“My baby girl…”sighed Elle, trying to bite back tears, “The police found you on David’s Island two nights ago, alone. They had been looking all night. When Luke called, I thought you were with him; I was so scared, Dawnie,” sobbed her mother, “That man, the one who….who…. he was sent by Luke’s family to get you- but that bastard….” Elle was standing now, pacing back and forth, hysterical. “But Lisa, Luke’s mother, eventually called the police once he never showed up. But it was too late…he’d already…already…”Dawn’s mother slid to the floor, covering her face with her hands and cried uncontrollably.
Dawn tried to move out of the hospital bed to comfort her mother but when she did, felt a pain between her legs- a soreness accompanied by stinging pressure. Tentatively, she moved her hand up to her face and felt heavy bandages around her forehead and chin; and while her hand was on her face she noticed how bruised and purple both her arms were. Dawn then began to sob as well as the realization of what had happened to her became clear. She had been raped.

***************************************

“C’mon Luke….please come out of your room!” Lisa banged loudly on Luke’s door to no avail. After calling the police on Edward two nights ago, Luke had shut down. He was completely insensitive to the fact that his own mother had to convict her brother, diminishing any hope of creating a real family. Of course Lisa was disgusted at what had happened and knew that even if she hadn’t turned him in, she could never truly love someone who was willing to commit such a vile act of lust on such an innocent teenager.
Luke couldn’t bring himself to face the real world. He knew that Dawn was in a hospital bed because of him; there was no one else to blame. Just picturing her all dressed up for their date, then having Eddie rub those grubby hands on her- it was enough to make him vomit. He knew he never should have let Eddie taken the boat without following him. But he had- he had allowed the girl of his dreams to become subjected to anyone’s nightmare. Though he knew calling and voicing his apology and compassion to Dawn would be the right thing to do, he didn’t think he was worthy enough to even hear her voice.
“Luke….you need to come out of your room. Do you hear me? Luke? Dawns ON THE PHONE!” Lisa shouted. When she heard no sound coming from behind the locked door, she silently cursed her son for making her tell Dawn that Luke wasn’t home…again. She had been calling all afternoon while still in the hospital, yet for some reason, Lisa couldn’t get her son to speak to her. Lisa had made several stops to the hospital herself to check on her and speak with her mother. Though Elle refused to speak civilly to anyone even remotely related to Eddie, Lisa had done her best to convey how she was just as horrified as Elle. Deciding it was better if she stopped visiting and giving apologies, Lisa went home to continue checking on her son.
When she knew there was nothing she could do at the moment to help him, she called the police department to see what was happening to Eddie. Being as how he was caught red-handed on David’s Island with the unconscious girl, tested positive for the semen in the hospital Rape Kit test and had confessed, he was immediately charged and thrown into jail. Lisa didn’t even blink at the news. With a record like Eddie’s, judges tended to have little or no sympathy. When she had hung up the phone, the next thing she decided to do was to get their lives back to normal.
“In this town, my son will always be ‘that boy with the rotten uncle’,” thought Lisa, “And I won’t be able to stop people from wondering if Luke will turn out like Edward….will our lives ever be the same?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking one thousand similar questions; and at the end of the night, Lisa knew the only way to separate themselves from the tragedy that would shadow over them would be to escape to a place where there was no shadow.

Chapter 7

Dawn hung up the plastic white phone in the hospital room for the fourth time that day. How dare Luke think it was too hard to talk to HER. Though the fall on her head had knocked her out during the ordeal (and the hospital drugs for her pain had continued her unconsciousness into the following day) Dawn still felt the pain of her wounds. But this hurt her the most; the boy she had been waiting around for all summer didn’t love her enough to even answer his damn phone- in Dawn’s eyes, he was nothing more than a coward. Furiously knotting up her hospital robe, her anger towards Luke became greater. “I wouldn’t even speak to him if he did answer the phone! And to think I was going to say it wasn’t HIS fault...to think I would have let him condole me with his touch and words of regret...,”she thought, “Well....he can’t. Not anymore. If I never speak to him again, I will be HIS loss...” As much as she tried to convince herself that she would always hate Luke for his absence during her pain, tears began to slide uncontrollably down her bruised cheeks.
“Dawnie...are you alright?” asked her mother. She immediately regretted the question; how could her daughter be even close to OK? But Elle couldn’t help it; at the sight of her daughter crying again, her maternal instinct to heal her wounds kicked in (no matter how ridiculous she sounded). “Can I get you anything, honey?” Elle was desperate to help.
“A new heart…”sighed Dawn. Why was she letting Luke get to her? Dawn guessed it was because she genuinely thought that he was different, thought he was the first guy to really care about her views and personality that lay beneath her skinny, silky-haired shell. Apparently she was wrong, because the minute he had found out her shell had collapsed he’d disappeared from her life.
“You’ve been through a lot- more than any girl you age. But I know you; you’re strong and beautiful. And the best thing about a broken heart is that it heals. I promise.” Elle was speaking from experience. Ever since her husband of twenty years had died in a car accident, her heart had taken a beating and at times seemed to cease to beat at all. Knowing August was around the corner, marking a decade since James’s death, Elle felt she would finally be strong enough for its arrival.
Dawn didn’t respond to her mother’s words of wisdom and instead shut her damp eyes against the world. Maybe someday her heart would mend, but until then, all she wished to do was forget about Luke Wellington; yet little did she know that his mother’s plans would make that far easier than Dawn had ever wanted.

*******************************************

Between Lisa and her husband Frank, the two of them managed to box up their entire house only a week after Eddie’s arrest. This sudden change wasn’t even acknowledged by Luke, who was still accepting meals that were slid into his room.
“Did the realtor call back yet about the Millsons?” Frank asked his wife as he loaded the last of the kitchen ware into a rentable U-HAUL truck.
“Oh, you came home from work later than usual tonight and I completely forgot to tell you,” said Lisa, who was trying to disguise her bitterness, sprung from the fact that Frank was taking up a greater interest in his job as an engineer at United Air since the incident. Lately, it seemed that every night Frank came home, his usually sparkling green eyes were darker, his muscular six-foot frame weaker, and his clothes always wrinkled. She wanted to help with his stress but Lisa couldn’t shake the feeling that he was ashamed of her- ashamed that his wife was the sister of a rapist.
“They said they would take our asking price for the house; it goes into escrow tomorrow,” she said unenthusiastically.
“Well, that’s great,” sighed Frank. He didn’t even look her in the eye. “I guess everything’s all set for California then. I know you already did, but I think I’ll call your sister to thank her again for letting us rent out her apartment. How long will she be in Italy?” Frank tried to sound like he was genuinely interested, convincing himself that his marriage was not falling apart.
“Actually she already left. Her agent called her a few days ago and said they wanted to fly her to Milan early and have her stay an extra two months.” Margaret, Lisa’s twenty year old model of a sister was a modern Marilyn Monroe when it came to looks. She had the classic Wellington blonde locks, but where her tall, slender body came from no one knew.
“Well that’s good news. At least we’ll have a little extra time to search for a house.” He said, “More like a condo with California prices,” he thought to himself. Though Frank’s job was able to transfer him to the west coast, he was forced to take a salary drop. “Yet anything’s better than this…it’s like we’re living in a fishbowl.”
With the coming morning, the family would be on the road and heading towards a new life, one hopefully lacking the stain everyone wanted to erase.

CHAPTER 1

She heard the boat approaching before he even called her, which probably was best because this way, she could turn her cell phone volume on low before it woke up the entire house. Grabbing her sandals, she snuck down her stairs as quickly as she could, carefully avoiding the seventh and ninth steps since they would nosily squeak her departure. The next hurdle was the back door, which was an alarm system all on its own. Holding her breath, Dawn jammed her foot against the bottom of the door and gently coaxed it open, hoping to stifle the load sucking noise it made as it allowed the warm night air to enter the house. From here she shut it as soundlessly as possible, then bolted down her backyard and past the black wrought iron gate which led to the gravel path. Stones crunching beneath her feet, she picked up speed as the path became steeper, finally ending at the long wooden dock which split the cobalt lake in half. It was here that Luke was waiting for her. Catching her breath and running a shaky hand though her hair, Dawn walked down towards the 20 foot ski boat that belonged to Luke’s father. He had stolen the boat for tonight and stocked it with enough towels for both of them, and then some. It had been an easy task, one which he always wanted to try; since his parent’s room was on the second story and his own dock at the bottom of the cliff, he could escape unnoticed with the boat.
Never having snuck out of her house, Dawn was anxious to leave before anyone found out she was missing. This was, after all, a temptation too good to be spoiled by her stainless record. Luke had asked her earlier that day, as they were sprawled under the summer sun, whether or not she wanted to go for a midnight ride. Their relationship was friendly and new, having met at the beach only weeks before, yet the obvious attraction was anything but friendly. Ever since the pair had returned to their small town in North Carolina they had spent every extra hour in each others company; whether it was at a party (which were in plenty, since graduation has just passed) or riding Luke’s jet skis, the two found pleasure in how comfortable they were around one another. And up until now each was too timid to suggest anything that crossed that line of being just friends.
As Dawn approached the boat bobbing at her dock she couldn’t help but stare at Luke. He was tall with eyes the color of fresh seaweed, visible tonight thanks to the full moon. His hair was longer than most, peaking out in dirty blonde tuffs on the sides of his ears and brushing the middle of his forehead. Wearing only his bathing suit, you could see his muscles cut on his stomach and defined on his arms, a direct result of working long hours at his father’s hot-shot construction company (Luke was trying to work his way up- a difficult task considering his father wanted him to start at the bottom).
“I hope you brought your swim suit,” he said with a smile over the hum of the engine. “Let me help you in.” He took her hand as she jumped onboard, giving her a hug as she steadied herself. “Glad you could make it,” he whispered with a wink. Trying to contain her excitement she teased, “I guess it’s lucky for you my hot date cancelled.” As Dawn giggled and went to sit in the passenger seat, Luke began to untie the ropes holding the boat in place. “I should thank this guy, because now I’m the one with a hot date…” Dawn did her best to ignore the compliment and rolled her eyes, though her breath caught in her throat when he looked at her shyly from the corner of his eye.
“I can’t believe we are doing this,” she said, changing the subject. “We couldn’t have picked a better night.” They looked up towards the sky to a moon in full circle. It was June and the bugs were flying fircely, yet tonight most of the critters had seemed to go to bed early. Even the trees surrounding the shore seemed greener and the stars shone with unmatched brilliance.
When finished freeing the boat from the dock, Luke navigated into the empty lake. From where he was standing, he could see (without being too obvious) how naturally gorgeous she looked. The moonlight illuminated her face revealing a visage bereft of the dark eye makeup and heavy powder that most girls their age wore. She was simply glowing, her coffee eyes smiling and the wind blowing her long light brown hair behind her in silky ribbons. She stood up and wobbled over to Luke, who was pushing the boat with increasing seed past the park on their right.
“Where are we going?” she asked, a little confused. He turned his face towards hers and gave her a quick, mischievous smile. “David’s Island.”

CHAPTER 2

David’s Island was about a 15 minute drive from their neighborhood and generally used for family camping trips and as a spot for fisherman to rest their boats. It was too small and didn’t have enough trees for the local teenagers to do any real damage. Dawn had been there a hundreds of times as a kid, yet the island had lost most of its magic as she grew up and started searching for more exciting places to meet up with friends. Tonight as they neared the jagged, sandy shoreline, Dawn felt her stomach performs summersaults and bit her lip (an uncontrollable habit). She hadn’t expected him to bring her here of all places, and for the first time since her early childhood she felt herself smile widely at the sight of it.
Luke stopped the boat while the water was still deep enough and put down the anchor. He surveyed the area with his hands resting on his slender hips and smiled at her. “Wanna jump in?” He asked. Cocking her head to the side, she pondered the question. Without answering, Dawn walked to the edge of the boat, facing away from the island and untied her halter-top dress, letting it fall to the ground. Turning so they were facing eachother she playfully threw her dress at him, revealing a navy blue bikini with silver hearts printed all over it. Luke did his best to keep his mouth from gaping open as he looked over her slim body. Though he had seen her countless times like this before, he couldn’t help but notice how she stood confidently overlooking the lake. She was the focal point of what looked like a masterpiece; the lake, the island, the trees, the moon- it was all her own private background, allowing her to glow in a way he had never seen. Luke came up to meet her on the tiny space at the edge of the boat and gave her a slight bow. “Ladies first,” he joked. She looked at him with mock annoyance.
“How come we always have to go first?” Luke studied her face, all scrunched up as if the idea irritated her.
“Because,” he said teasingly, “jumping in first is a privilege, fit for no one lesser than you.” Though he was joking, he knew she wouldn’t buy it.
“No…You just want me to test the water,” she teased, “To make sure no lake creature is lurking down there waiting for you!” Laughing, Luke took her hand.
“Excuse me for wanting to be a gentleman…” At this, she decided to play into the game.
“Oh, and it’s greatly appreciated,” she said sweetly as she took one step closer to him. He wasn’t far from her to begin with and from here, she could feel his breath on her face. Slowly titling her head up, she met his gaze and held it for a few seconds, then inched her face up to his until their lips were almost touching. Having him right where she wanted, she smiled and tried to shove him off the boat, accidentally sliding on the slick surface and sending them both into the warm water.
Coming up for air, Luke sputtered and swore, pretending the incident had angered him. “Jesus Dawn! You knocked the wind outa me! ” While laughing and swimming back towards the boat, she shouted, “Oh, whatever! Your fine! You're just mad that I thought of it first!” He laughed, trying to catch up to her. Once they were both on the boat, breathing heavily, he suggested they lay some towels down to relax. Sitting on the floor of the boat, Dawn sighed, letting the warm nighttime breeze dry her dripping body. Luke, trying to get comfortable, stretched out on the floor. “Man, look how nice out it is.” He was staring up at the sky, enjoying the cloudless night, then turned his gaze to Dawn. Her hair was stringy and wet and her bathing suit clung in all the right places. He examined the island, noticing how perfect and calm everything was. She could feel him staring at her as she looked over the lake, the notion making her smile. “Ya, it sure is,” she agreed. As she turned to meet his eyes he shook his head, “I don’t mean the island. I mean the sky, just look at it.” He pulled her arm until she was lying next to him, their faces turned up towards the heavens.
They stayed like this for a while, neither of them saying anything. There were lights dimly visible on the other side of the lake where the marina was. It cast a faint yellow glow on the water, almost like candlelight. The native bugs were buzzing above them accompanied by the sound of tiny waves lapping up against the shore. The night was barley alive, gently encompassing the couple in a mellow world of their own. As the boat rocked slightly back and forth, Luke wrapped his arms around Dawn and she rested her head against his chest. Slowly caressing her arms he pulled her even closer as she entangled her legs with his. As she pulled away from his chest, she looked toward his face and he touched his forehead to hers. He looked right into her eyes and smiled slowly. Knowing this was the moment he had waited for since he met her weeks ago, he took his time and gently leaned his mouth to hers, touching her lips softly and fully.

CHAPTER 3

Dawn didn't want the night to end and certainly didn't want to leave Luke’s company, but for every extra minute she spent it Luke's arms, the greater the chance of her parents finding her empty bed. She knew getting caught was unlikely but was apprehensive just the same. Pulling away from his tender embrace Dawn whispered, "We really should be heading back, I mean my parents could wake up any second..." She regretted the words the instant they left her lips. "Great! Now Luke probably thinks I’m a complete spaz. What highschool graduate gives a damn about what their parents think?!" thought Dawn as she tried to hide her obvious embarrassment by turning away from Luke.
"Um, yeah sure, we can start heading back....if you want," he said. Luke tried to hide the disappointment from his voice but knew he couldn't hide it from his eyes; and as Dawn turned back to thank him, she noticed.
"It's not that I don't want to stay, you know. It's just, well, I made it through high school without any huge mistakes and guess I'd like to keep it that way until I leave for school..." Dawn couldn't believe what she was hearing herself say! She wanted to stay, wanted to explore everything she'd been wondering about Luke, yet didn't trust herself for one more second on this tiny (and very private) boat with him. After all, the temptation to loose what every other highschool kid had lost increased as college loomed closer. She was just waiting for the righ guy, and until now, had never found anyone as captivatingly handsome and fun as Luke. But did that mean she was ready? Dawn still didn't know.
"No, it's okay, " sighed Luke, "But this means you owe me! If I take you home, you have to come with me to Tony's tomorrow night." The idea had just come to Luke as he spoke to her; he couldn't help it. Whenever they spent time together, Luke had to know when he'd be seeing her again; and Tony's was the perfect place. Famous for their over-priced Italian entrees, Tony's was the ideal way to spend a night in Charlotte City's downtown ritzy area. He desperately wanted to impress her yet knew he didn't need to- he could tell by the way she looked at him with her soft brown eyes as he told one of his stories or how she hugged him close when they parted, that she liked him whether or not he bought her fancy things.
"Tony's?!" she shrieked. She couldn't believe he wanted to take her there. She had never been to eat at an expensive downtown restaurant without her parents and knew that by her reaction, he probably could have guessed it. "So much for playing it cool..." she thought.
"I think I could move a few things around on my calendar to make room for that!" she teased, trying to salvage some dignity.
"Well you better," Luke said as he began to stand and pull in the anchor. "Because you'd break my heart if you didn't," he teased back with a wink.
Once the anchor was back in place he started up the engine and navigated his way back to Dawn's, watching her re-tie her halter dress out of the corner of his eye. They rode home in silence, each thinking of how their friendship was finally turning into something more. After they arrived at Dawn's dock, said their goodbyes, and gave each other one more soft kiss, Dawn tiptoed back up the gravel path until she was at her house. From here she could see Luke's boat making its way back across the lake through the early morning fog until it disappeared completely.

Chapter 4

Dawn looked at herself in the mirror and decided her normally stick-straight brown hair looked quite pretty with its newly acquired curls. She had spent at least an hour in hot rollers and had invited her friend Tammy over to do her make-up. Forty-five minutes later, Tammy had declared Dawn her greatest masterpiece.
“I must say Dawn Juan, if we weren’t so close, you’d be my competition,” joked Tammy as she started putting away her MAC and Estee Lauder makeup into a large designer bag. Dawn rolled her eyes at her friend’s use of the nick-name “Dawn Juan”, which Tammy had started calling her in retaliation to Dawn’s teasing of “Toasted Tammy” (back in their freshman days Tammy had experimented with pot and tried driving home stoned, ultimately ending with a crashed mustang and a $7,000 dollar debt).
Tammy was the same age as Dawn, eighteen, with fire-red hair and millions of freckles. She has always been self-conscious of her almost six-foot frame, but no one would had ever guessed as much since she carried herself like the skinny model she swore she was born to be. The nicknames they used were meant to be friendly; each girl was quite fond of the other, having grown up together since the third grade. Even now that high school was over, the girls planned to continue their close friendship at the UNC, where Dawn would study her passion for writing and Tammy her infatuation with cosmetology.
After Tammy had left, the last thing Dawn had to do was somehow figure out what to wear. Since Tony’s was much fancier than her wardrobe, she had to settle with a black, knee-length skirt and a white halter-top that made her golden tan shine. She matched the outfit with white, four-inch stilettos and considered fish nets to show off her shapely legs, but didn’t want to look like she was trying too hard. After all she didn’t even know what time Luke was to pick her up. Dawn just wanted to make sure she was ready whenever he decided to call.
Looking up at the clock, she noticed it was already 8:30 p.m.; so trying to avoid staring at the time, she went downstairs and into her mother’s office to check her e-mail. Empty. Once she had shut off the computer, she heard a far-away rumbling sound and realized it was an approaching jet-ski. She knew she shouldn’t look out the office window, but she checked anyway to see if the nighttime rider was somehow Luke. When the rider quickly sped by her house, she told herself she was being pathetic. “Just call him,” she said to herself. “I mean, you have plans. He did say he wanted to take me to Tony’s….so what’s the holdup?” Dawn went into her backyard to sit on her tree swing and watch the sunset, as if the coming darkness would somehow provide the answers she was looking for.
Unable to take it anymore, Dawn decided to call Luke. By now, it was 9:45. One ring…two rings…..three rings….on the fourth ring she hung up.
“This is ridiculous!” she shouted. “And it’s too late to go to Tony’s….or maybe he’s just really late and we have, like, a 10:00 reservation…” Even though her voice was tinged with hope, she couldn’t convince herself. Silently, tears started to roll down her evenly-powered face like tiny black rivers, leaving her face zebra-stained and puffy.
At the sound of an approaching boat by her dock, Dawn didn’t even look up. She knew that it was pointless- it was too dark to even see the stranger who was driving anyway. Reluctantly she stood up from the tree swing and started walking back up towards her backdoor; as her hand touched the cool doorknob, she realized it was oddly quiet. “The boat!” she thought, “It stopped moving. It must have stopped at my dock….It must be Luke!” Dawn suddenly turned on her heel and headed down the steep gravel path, her high-heels threatening to send her tumbling down the hill at any moment.
When she had finally reached the long dock Dawn stopped to see a small, blue ski boat just like Luke’s. Smiling, she walked down the long, wooden length that separated her from the boy she’d been waiting for all night….for all summer. Her heels clicked loudly on each dry plank as she tried to quickly wipe away any remaining tears and spruce up her barley-there curls. She was almost to the end of the dock as she called out,
“You had me worried there for a second, cowboy! I actually thought you’d be a no-show!” But as she stepped out to the edge of the dock, her smile faded.
“Oh doncha’ worry baby, I never miss an engagement- it’s my job,” growled a voice that definitely wasn’t Luke’s.