"Not in my nature..." Luke was quick to fire back at the suggestion that he should be a politician. He knew he could be convincing when he wanted to be. He'd been 'trained' that way since he was old enough to throw a temper tantrum. That tended to stop working when he reached the age of seven, though, so since then he'd had to figure out alternate ways to be..convincing. He wasn't all parties and irresponsibility, no matter what people thought, and for a man in his mid-twenties, he'd had to make some pretty heavy decisions in his lifetime that affected other people. When you had other lives in the palm of your hand, it could easily wear on you. And still people wondered why he wanted to get away from it all?
What had she said? Something about a bear? He'd been too lost in his thoughts, and he mentally cursed himself for not paying better attention. But as she agreed to meet him on the shore in ten minutes, a slow nod tilted his head a bit. Ten minutes. Sure, go get ready. Did that make this some kind of date? No, no...there was nothing remotely 'romantic' about fishing.
Yet once again, before he could get another word in, she was gone. If he should have been a politician, she should have been a professional burglar with the way she could just disappear before you even realized anything had been taken. She had stolen his thoughts, and he wanted them back...sort of.
Ten minutes, though. So she could change. Luke should have just strolled along down to the lake, not worrying a thing about it. Why did he keep thinking this was some kind of date? That was stupid, they weren't twelve years old. But soe sort of force dragged him back to the tent, being careful to make sure he moved quickly enough so she wouldn't see him or anything. That was all he needed; for her to somehow be more suspicious of him.
A quick brush of his teeth with the small amount of leftover water he had, just so he wouldn't smell like a mixture of morning and liquor. Two diagonal sprays of deodorant after lifting his shirt, from under his arms and down across his chest. Did it make him clean? No, but it was a quick fix to keep him from smelling like he spent the night in a tent in the woods until he could rinse off later on. What was he missing? Flowers? Did people still do that? Was that a movie thing? Luke had never had to try much his entire 'dating' life. His face plastered all over magazines and the Internet and wherever else they could fit it tended to make it pretty easy to date...anyone. The whole 'Irish heir' thing appealed to women, for whatever reason.
How long at it been? It had to have been less than ten minutes. The last thing he needed was to head down to the lake for her to already be there, waiting on him. 'Oh sorry, I was just trying to make myself a little less 'woodsman' for you." Yeah, that would go over well.
Luckily, she wasn't there. The lake was practically glass with how still it was, though that wasn't always the best sign when you wanted to catch fish. Playing it casually was the best idea right then, so he let go of his fishing line into the water, the artifical lure doing it's job undoubtedly of bobbing around in the water. What would they even talk about? He'd asked her maybe one serious question about her life; what she was studying in school, and she'd given him about fifteen answers before running off. Then again, he didn't want to answer many questions about his own personal life, either. They could have been at each other's throats 24/7, but it would have been better than her knowing who he really was and somehow treating him differently.
Or maybe he should bring up the fact that he was sick. That was a good ice breaker to end an awkward silence, right? Oh yeah, Luke was beginning to realize what a real 'catch' he would be for anyone. But he couldn't even think that way with this girl. Just because she had a captivating face...a body that begged to be touched...a scent that could drive him into a frenzy, and eyes that could look right through him, he couldn't get caught up. Not even with the fact that she wasn't afraid to treat him like any other low life guy in the world, which was strangely attractive in a way she probably wouldn't understand.
It had been longer then ten minutes, hadn't it? Time tended to fly by when you were fishing and not catching anything. But it had at least been twenty by that point. Maybe he was just getting ahead of himself and he should have taken the hint; her leaving that quickly simply meant that she didn't want to take part in this little...adventure. She hadn't seemed too excited about it with an allergic-to-fish mother and an allergic-to-outside father. So just forget about it, right? Right. But just as he turned to look back out at the water, an apology was heard. Longer than ten minutes, of course, but...she was a girl, wasn't that normal?
"That's alright, I was beginnin' to think the rabbits got to ya." The playful smirk returned only long enough for him to get a good look at her. Why did he agree to let her change? It was bad enough to let his imagination go at a full sprint when she was in his shirt and sweats, but now in denim shorts and a tank top, with her hair up, she...well, damnit. It was all he could do to keep from staring, and he knew what kind of reaction she'd had the last time she caught him staring at her.
"The knee looks good..." He gave a nod. The knee looks good? Great job, Luke. Compliment of the year. Not exactly the ones he was thinking; you look beautiful, holy shit, I'd like to kiss you for the rest of the day, put a jacket on so I stop staring at you...something like that.
The Bleeding Rose
He smelled different. Like mint and...man? His scent was still underneath though, still strong, still unlike anything she'd ever inhaled(Not that she'd inhaled much in her lifetime). It wasn't sweaty though, or musky, or anything remotely human. Her mind flashed back to those awful twilight books a friend had tricked her into reading, with the crazed teenage girl going on and on about how incredible her boyfriend smelled. Was she turning into a crappy fictional character? Or was he a vampire? Neither. No, it wasn't either of them. He just smelled good.
She shouldn't have come running. It gave off the impression that she couldn't wait and walk back like a normal person. Which...well, she couldn't, could she? Still, it was a bad idea. First of all, jogging in a normal bra was not logical or attractive. Second of all, it made her pant like an overweight golden retriever. She tried in vain to slow her breathing, but it was pointless with him cracking jokes about rabbits. She laughed, openly, a feeling that was liberating and scary all at the same time. It felt...good.
Maybe that was the problem? His sense of humor? She didn't laugh often, and definitely hadn't done much of it since moving to Ireland. The most she'd laughed was at two am when she was near crazy from lack of sleep, and her wretched room made had broken her finger. Apparently grabbing the headboard when it was slamming into the wall was not such a good idea. They'd let her off the hook, of course. She was American, obviously too stupid to know not to laugh.
"They tried. Why do you think I ran the whole way here?" Was that smart? To point it out? Or should she have just left it alone? Why did he make her so nervous? Nerves were shooting around in her stomach to the point where she thought she might vomit. And yet, she still craved his presence. What was wrong with her? He looked so...rugged. With the fishing pole and those jeans....no. No, she couldn't let her mind wander. It was just fishing. There was nothing romantic or sexy about fishing.
He commented on her knee and she glanced down at it, instantly humiliated. He'd had big band aids, while she was stuck with the little ones. How were you supposed to cover everything without putting the sticky part on the open cut? Abstractly. And so, they were mismatched and overlapping. What could she say to that? Something defensive, obviously, but he didn't seem to be making fun of her. She swallowed her embarrassment, though it left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. "Feels good." Right. Scholar. Two word sentences. What was happening to her? It didn't feel good, that was a lie. It stung, and it was throbbing, and the band aids pinched at her skin. Still, she wasn't about to go on a rant. It was just a skinned knee.
"This looks exciting, I'm glad I rushed back here." she hadn't meant to mention her sprinting again, but something had to be said. He was just standing there, holding the pole, and nothing was happening. She realized suddenly that this could take hours of her making stupid, embarrassing comments. It might be worth it, if he would smirk down at her and make her laugh again. Oh, who was she kidding? Smelling him was enough. She kept her distance though, so she wouldn't be tempted to touch him. And she was, very tempted. However, the last thing he needed to think was that she had curled up against him in the middle of the night because she was in fact a rapist.
Luke would have never noticed her running if he hadn't picked up the way her chest rose and fell heavier by the time she got to the lake. But, then he scolded himself for looking (staring) at her chest. He might have convinced her to trust him enough to go fishing, but if he'd learned one thing in life, it was not to stare openly at women's breasts, no matter how much they fascinated you. Life lessons you didn't learn in school kept you from getting slapped...most of the time.
Both of their gazes seemed to fall to her knee as she reassured him it was okay. It looked cleaner, that was for sure, and it was only then that he knew she must have jumped in the lake that morning, or poured endless bottles of water over her; whichever. Her hair, even in a ponytail, was damp on the ends, and there was no dirt anywhere on her from any fall the night before...he made sure to look at every inch that wasn't covered by clothing. And, no dried up blood or anything like that on her knee.
That meant she probably even smelled more amazing than before. What was it? Surely not the lake water. She definitely should have stayed in sweatpants. Temptations were on his shoulders and he couldn't push them off,, and she wasn't making them any easier to completely disregard.
"Ouch, already miserable." That familiar grin returned at her remark of rushing back. Fishing wasn't really the most exciting thing in the world. But then again, this wasn't a date, so what was he so worried about?
"Make ya a deal...if we don't get a bite in a few minutes, we can both take our clothes off an' jump on in. I know y'er a fan of that." His expression was dead-serious, but he wasn't the world's best actor, and a grin betrayed him in a matter of seconds. Luke could be forward when he wanted to; chalk it up to years of people letting him get away with whatever he wanted. He had matured out of that 'phase' now, but remnants of it still lingered sometimes, where he would just...speak before he thought about what he was going to say. "And y'er not gonna catch anything standin' over there."
With a side step toward her, his hand met her waist. And there was a memory there; of his arms wrapped around her in a moment where it wasn't awkward or frowned upon. Maybe they were both in some kind of deep subconscious while they were asleep and ended up tangled together, but Luke had been aware enough to knew that he liked how it felt, and that he wanted more of it.
Guiding her closer to the water, he only removed his hand from touching her to reel in the line he'd cast out minutes earlier. "Ya want to learn how to cast? If nothin' else, it'll be a good trick to show y'er mum if y'er ever fightin' with her. You can scare her away." Why did certain little memories like that instantly stick with him? Like her mother being allergic to fish. Who would have remembered that?
Still, Luke didn't give her much of an option to protest. He wasn't letting her run away again, not so quickly, anyway, and any personal barriers she may have had up, he was taking a leap of faith to break them down. After placing the end of the fishing rod in her hand, he moved to take a step behind her, one hand on her upper arm, the other directly on top of her's as it held the fishing pole. Good God did she smell amazing, and the skin on her arm was soft; unlike the roughness of his fingertips. He had to clear his throat a little in order to do the same with his head. Maybe it was a cliche move, but cliches were there for a reason; because they felt good.
The Bleeding Rose
He teased her for her impatience, somehow managing to make her feel guilty and excited all at the same time. "Well..." she started to protest, cut off as he assured her they could rip off their clothes and jump into the lake if the fish weren't biting. She was unable to suppress a smile, looking away from him. It might have seemed like embarrassment, but the truth was she couldn't stop herself from imagining him ripping off his shirt. The smile was going to become pervish if she stared any longer, so she turned face away so he wouldn't see it.
The lake was still, glossy and smooth. Beautiful. Not as beautiful as him, but it wasn't exactly hard to look at either. She crossed her arms, scanning the water, as if she could see if there were fish beneath it. The truth was, she'd probably scared them off with her rushed, violent morning bath. Of course, she wouldn't admit it. He commented that she wasn't going to catch anything just standing there, and she opened her mouth to protest. To say that he had the only pole, and the only experience, and therefore if they really wanted to catch something he should to the fishing. Of course, all of that disappeared as his hand found her waist, pulling her towards him.
Had she just gasped? Yes, audibly. It was a strange thing, to be grabbed and pulled into his arms like that. It was bizarre, that he would reach out and touch her so willingly. Of course, they had woken up tangled together, but besides that...well, she wasn't exactly cuddly, was she? Most people didn't dare to touch her. Even those people who couldn't seem to hold a conversation without someone without a hand on their shoulder. No, no one ever touched her. She didn't like it. She liked her own space, and she liked everyone to stay in their own space. So why did this feel so right?
She couldn't even laugh at his joke. It was as if he'd knocked the wind out of her...or at least the composure. "Uhm. Ok." was all she could choke, knowing she probably felt stiff and awkward in his arms. He gave her little choice in the matter, already teaching her the part of the reel. How to reel it in, let the line out, the way she should flip over the bail and hold the line with her finger as she cast. If there was anything she was good at, it was learning, and while his hands on hers and his chest against her back were distracting, she picked up the skill easily.
Before she knew it she was fishing. Though, it wasn't nearly as difficult or exciting as she would have liked to think. Mostly it involved a lot of waiting, a lot of sarcasm and teasing on another while they waited patiently for a bite. Sometimes there was silence, but it was usually comfortable, broken up only by moments of panic and excitement when there was a tug on the line. After catching one she gave the reel to him, settling in on the rocks and watching the water, enjoying the summer sun on her face.
It wasn't an eventful day, but it was surprisingly pleasant compared to sitting on her own reading a text book. Just being next to him, just having him there. It was...nice. Maybe she hadn't wanted to be alone after all. Maybe she'd just wanted to be around the right person. And boy, was he right. That smile, those eyes, the way he laughed. It sparked her own, involuntary, as if everything about him was contagious. Contagious. Like a disease. That was what he was, wasn't he? She hoped so. Diseases tended to last a while.
Eventually they'd caught all they needed, and he offered to show her how to gut them. As much as she enjoyed his company, the fish were slimy and smelly and she wanted little to do with ripping out their insides. She insisted that she had homework she should attend to, and they agreed to meet up for dinner later on. She accomplished little, homework wise. The day was too nice, and the way his smell lingered on her skin made it impossible not to imagine a thousand different scenarios where she would just HAVE to rip off his shirt. He'd infected her mind. There was no doubt about that.
As the sun started to dip in the sky, she felt the air grow chilly. Wishing she had some sort of stylish winter wear, Lucy dug through her pack to find that she had very little to wear in the way of warmth, besides pajamas. Well, he'd seen her look worse, right? Still, she couldn't shake the strange sensation that this might be some sort of date. You didn't wear hiking boots, thick black legging, and bright blue cotton pajama shorts to a date. But freezing to death sounded more humiliating, so when she finally appeared at his camp site that was what she was wearing, along with a thick brown sweatshirt, her hair left down in hopes of providing some warmth. The smell of fish was overwhelming, and while her mouth watered, it wasn't exactly something you wanted to breath in.
"It smells like the beach." she told him, approaching slowly, a smirk playing on her lips. "You know, when something washes up on shore dead." How could she have missed him? It had been hours at most. And yet, it was almost a relief to see him, as if something inside of her released and relaxed the moment he turned his gaze on her. Of course, the relief didn't last long, with her stomach tying itself in knots.
Luke couldn't really recall the last time he'd spent a day doing something so relaxing, with someone. Sure, he would go out with friends quite often; but it usually involved some kind of sport or concert, or just going to the pub. He'd been camping with friends before, but that had a way of turning into a weekend of binge drinking and forgetting all about it the following few days. Fishing wasn't all that exciting, and probably not the best way to win over anyone's affections, but Luke wasn't worried about that, so it didn't matter. Yeah right.
Surprisingly enough, just having her there to joke around with, to talk light-heartedly to, to...well, to look at, he couldn't have found a single complaint. He had to assume by this point that if she wanted to leave, she would have left. And his mind couldn't help but wander as to exactly what all this was. He didn't even know how long she was going to be camping. He had to get back in a day or so before they would send a search party assuming he'd been eaten by wolves or something, and then what? She was a student; it wasn't like he would be able to openly visit her without causing some sort of media frenzy. She, by all standards of what his family would see, was a commoner, and above everything else she was an American. Luke didn't know why things like that plagued him; it was impossible to think that they could even remain friends after this little vacation was over, it would just be too hard to do.
But a day of fishing with a pretty girl was the best day he'd had in a long time, and it made him that much more excited to meet up with her again that night, after doing the 'dirty work' of gutting and cleaning the fish. Not that he minded. So a few passing hours were left between them, and even as he got everything ready for 'dinner' later that night, making sure the fire was roaring and the fish were clean, she interrupted nearly every thought.
After throwing the fish onto a grate covering the fire, Luke did the same with a handful of potatoes he'd sliced up with his pocket knife. Laugh it up, but the Irish's love of the vegetable was one absolutely true stereotype, and he wasn't about to go hungry out there. As the land drank up the sun and it got darker, and colder, the only change Luke made was to pull on the same brown sweater from the day before, before going back down to the lake to wash up a little. Smelling like fish probably wasn't the allure you wanted. Maybe some people were into it, but he had a feeling it wasn't going to work for him that night.
Why was he nervous? Was it possible to clean up a campsite? He questioned himself, and his sanity as the dark got deeper, and focused every ounce of attention he could on just..anything but her. But then, her voice breaking up his thoughts didn't help that much. "Well, welcome to Ireland...where it smells like dead things on a beach." He grinned, looking her over as if she would have somehow changed in the few hours they had been apart. Her hair was the only difference; it was down, framing her face with loose curls and waves and he was dying to lay with her again and let his fingers weave through it, or have his hand rest against the back of her neck.
"Have a seat, everythin' should be about ready to eat. And...I'm afraid I can't impress ya with any expensive wine, but we've got cheap whiskey or a bottle o'water. Ladies choice." The grin returned as he looked down at her, the glow from the fire giving her complexion a radiance that he couldn't ignore. There was no need to go overboard, right? This wasn't a date. How many times had he told himself that in the few hours they had been apart? Too many to count. But...why did it feel like one? And if it wasn't a date, why did he have to constantly fight the urge to kiss her?
The Bleeding Rose
Ireland. Where things smelled like dead things on a beach? No. Not really. The air was cleaner here, more so that is was back in the states. Sure, there were places with clean air, camp grounds and such, but most of it smelled pretty terrible. Here though, the air wasn't nearly as thin and chemical infused. It had been a relief, when she'd gotten off the plane and walked out of the airport. A sign of good things to come, a promise that she would enjoy breathing while she was there.
Of course, her dorm usually smelled like sex and vodka, but she made sure her room at a window open at all times. It wasn't Ireland she hated, just the people. The truth was, it had a beauty to it...sort of like he did. That sweater looked warm and soft, and she was dying to nuzzle her face against it and breathe him in. Could she steal it? Slip it under her shirt when she left? Was she turning into a shirt thief? Maybe. You couldn't just walk into a store and say 'Hey, I want a shirt that smells like Luke.' Luke. She was going to remember his name. she could feel it.
He asked her what she wanted to drink, and she scooped up his water bottle and settled in on a stump. As if it was hers, as if she lived there. To say she'd become comfortable in the little camp site was an understatement. It felt like home, much more so than her camp. It felt like she belonged there. "I'll stick with water." she told him, unscrewing the lid and taking a small sip. It did little to cool the fire he'd lit in the pit of her stomach. "Wouldn't want to become an easy target for the rabbits."
She leaned in towards the fire, enjoying it's warmth, looking at the array of fish and potatoes he had roasting. Her mouth quirked up in a small smile. "Potatoes. How Irish of you." Not that she was complaining. No, this mean was probably going to taste like the best thing she'd ever tasted. Anything but another chewy, disgusting energy bar. "I actually don't usually drink...at all." she found herself admitting.
What was she doing? That wasn't any of his business. Yes, they'd spent a strangely wonderful amount of time together, but they were still just strangers. Weren't they? No. She wouldn't have been there if he felt like a stranger. He felt like...he felt like...
No. She couldn't consider it. There was no future, no chance. She was an exchange student, romance was an all around bad idea. Besides, she was leaving in the morning. In a way, this was sort of a last supper. "Except, you know, when I'm caught swimming naked. Then I usually let loose."
Ireland was pretty much clear all around. There was a smog that typically lingered around in the mornings, but it wasn't from industrial buildings or factories. It was just...nature, and it lifted throughout the day like some kind of curtain to display the world's most lush greenery you could find. It was a tourist attraction for a reason, after all, and it wasn't because of the beer. ...Well, maybe part of it was because of the beer.
When she snatched up his water bottle as if it was her most prized possession, Luke shook his head with a grin, grabbing both a bottle of water and the half-empty bottle of whiskey for himself. It wasn't a mechanism to get drunk anymore, it was basically...Irish water. "Well, I wanted to give you the whole tourist experience. Fancy a Guinness, too? And in the mornin', we'll be havin' blood sausage and mash." That grin was undeniable as he poked fun at his own heritage a bit. Hey, he'd made fun of hers, so it was only fair.
What was he supposed to say? He felt like complimenting her somehow. He felt like complimenting her? The idea left a sour taste in his mouth just because...well, he wasn't used to that. Oh sure, he'd charmed women like crazy before, that wasn't the problem. But how could he tell her that she was genuinely stunning without it sounding like a pathetic attempt to get her to sleep with him, or think he was gay? Forget it.
"Really?" His thick accent was definitely a little shocked when she admitted she didn't drink. He didn't judge in any way for that, though. "I would say y'came to the wrong country, then, but they'd try to get ya drunk wherever you went. Wine in Italy and France, light beer in Germany...even that piss water you call beer in a can back in the States." He just grinned, shaking his head a little as he grabbed a couple paper plates from a stack he'd brought along, as well as a couple plastic forks. He hadn't planned an end to this trip, really, so he tended to over-prepare. Typically, he could get away with being gone for three days, maybe four, before he was 'summoned' back by someone from the palace magically finding him. There had been times before where Luke had wondered if a tracking device had been planted in him as a baby.
After dishing up a bit of everything from the open flame on one of the plates, he handed it to Lucy, before making up a plate for himself as well and sitting back down on his respective stump. "So, y'don't drink, I haven't seen you smoke, you're not sickly lookin' like some o'the girls I've seen from the University. Livin' off lettuce leaves, no doubt. And don't take this the wrong way..." He trailed off, his gaze shifting from his dinner across the fire right into her own emerald pools.
"But I don't get why y'er out here all alone. When I assumed you were on some kind of romantic camping trip yesterday I meant it. But after today, I kind of got the feelin' that you like being along. So what's your story, Lucy? If I'm not gonna get you drunk enough to tell me anyway, I'm gonna have t'ask straight forward." Luke had been trying to figure her out from the moment he saw her, and he still couldn't. Then again, it wasn't like they had taken the time to just...talk. The occasional personal fact here and there, sure, but mostly their conversations had consisted of either arguing, or going back and forth with sarcastic jabs. And hell, he could have gone on perfectly happy like that with anyone else, but he wanted...more from her.
The Bleeding Rose
There was definitely some nervousness as he approached her. Was that the wrong word? Maybe it was...anticipation? Either way, she felt as if she wanted to puke and laugh all at the same time. Luckily enough, things went in the direction of laughter. He had her laughing from the start, poking fun at American beer, talking about the world's obsession with drinking. She might have managed to get a word in to tell him that she wasn't a prohibition freak, or a Mormon, if he didn't have her in fits of laughter.
He fixed her up a plate and handed it to her, and she couldn't help but be impressed. Did he camp often? Everything was cooked well, and the fact that he'd actually packed plastic silverware? She said a silent prayer of thanks for the fact that she would not be forced to eat fish with her hands in front of him, poising her fork to take a bite...and he was talking again. She froze at his words, mouth slightly agape, eye brows raised high. had he just called her fat? She wasn't fat. Was she? How many calories were those protein bars? No, that was stupid. Of course she wasn't fat. She just had a decent amount of fat where any woman should, unlike plenty of the girls at the university who had the physique of teenage boys. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that he might think she was fat.
That was, until he launched off into questions about why she was out here all alone. Did he really think she should have a boyfriend? Or was he just trying to flatter her? He was a good liar, she knew that from the whole eel incident, but he seemed genuinely curious....about her. It made those knots in her stomach tighten, her breath catch in her throat, nerves that had been eased with laughter returning in an instant. She let out a nervous, choked sounding kind of laugh. Why did he have to ask questions like that? And in such a charming, charismatic way she couldn't refuse without seeming like...well, a bitch.
"I'm...I mean...I'm not that interesting." she said apologetically, as if she felt bad he'd even bothered to ask. "My Mom's a psychologist, my Dad's an architect, I grew up in a suburb. Went to school, went to college, couldn't figure out what I wanted to do so I decided to stall by going to Irish college." she shrugged, struggling to find some interesting, sexy fact about herself. There weren't any. And as for the accusation that she liked to be alone...."I do, I guess. Like to be alone. I don't know, I mean I wasn't home schooled or anything. I like to think I'm not too socially awkward. I'm just...I'm just not a people person. I mean, it's nice that you're giving me the benefit of the doubt but I'm really just a fat, bitter American." she smirked a little, trying to wave off her dreary life story and lack of tolerance for the human race. He seemed to think she was something more, like she might actually be someone interesting. Now that he knew, he'd probably say he wanted to go to bed early and kick her out of his campsite.
Damn, that was a depressing thought. The only thing that she could think of to help heal her self esteem was food. She speared a chunk of potato and popped it into her mouth, chewing for a moment. It. Was. Heaven. The best thing she'd ever tasted, especially after days of protein bars. The pleasure was intense, so intense she let out a low, satisfied groan. Only after it escaped her did she realize how utterly similar to the noises that came from her room mate's bedroom it sounded. She dropped her fork in embarrassment. On the plate, but still...what kind of an idiot dropped their fork. "Sorry. Fat American. We love food." she stammered, shoving another bite in so she couldn't say anything else that would humiliate her.
Luke couldn't be so sure why he was so invested in her. So curious, so intrigued. Would he forget everything in a few days after they both went on their way? Would it even matter? She hadn't even remembered his name, so why would she remember anything else about him? Still, those questions hadn't stopped him from asking her some. Curiosity got the best of him, and he couldn't help it. In the glow of that fire when it felt like you could have quite possibly been the last two people on the planet, it was easy to get lost.
I'm not that interesting, she said. He was...immediately begging to differ, for in the short days he'd known her, she had interested him more than he was willing to admit. Maybe that was what made him so curious, she was so unlike other girls he'd been around, even the ones he was friends with. She was probably finding out rather quickly that he wasn't anything special, either. He fumbled over words sometimes, was sarcastic to a fault, didn't know how to give a compliment without it sounding like something else. If all women knew that once they looked past the fact that he was a royal, well...he wouldn't have had the reputation he did.
Her family sounded successful enough; well-educated, if nothing else, though from what he could piece together he wasn't sure if they were all that...spontaneous, or adventurous, if she couldn't even remember her father enjoying time in the outdoors. As strange as it seemed, that connection reminded him of his own parents, who couldn't be bothered with...anything out of the comforts and confines of the luxuries provided to them. His father had never gotten his hands dirty a day in his life.
"I can understand that, I suppose. After all, I came up here to be alone, too..." He shrugged, not hesitating to dig into the warm food on his plate. He had a theory that absolutely anything in the world tasted better when it was cooked over a fire. Fish? Perfect. A steak? Throw it on there. A candy bar? Melty.
Part of him felt like he should be writing all of this down, like he would forget something that he wanted to remember later to piece it together with something else she said. But he knew he wouldn't forget. He was too captivated for that. Still, she was a study for him. He could be the tall, dark, mysterious quiet guy when he wanted to be, and right then was one of those moments, as he just stayed silent for a minute, thinking. But oh how that thought train was interrupted as Lucy took a bite of her food.
Luke's eyes widened a bit, and an undeniable smirk came over his expression, though on the inside his breath caught in his throat. Did he honestly think a noise she just made over food was sexy? Yes. Just because it was obviously some kind of...pure ecstasy escaping her. And he wanted that...he wanted to see more of it. Hell, he wanted to be the cause of it. Just shaking his head, he reached down for his water, taking a long drink but not taking his eyes off her. "You apologize too much." The statement was plain and simple. Not a criticism by any means, just...a way to let her know that it wasn't necessary. He was completely intrigued by her and he didn't want her to apologize for just...being who she was.
"And...that's the second time you've called yer'self fat in about five minutes, so..I promise you you're wrong about that." Maybe it was too obvious in that moment that he was gazing her over from head to toe, because he was trying to keep that hidden. But fat? Hardly. She had a perfect body, from what he'd seen...which, was probably more than he should have seen for their situation. She had every subtle curve that a woman should have, and there was honestly nothing sexier than that. Call it primal or barbaric or anything you wanted, but her shape, and her whole frame, looked flawless to him.
"So what else? Friends? Enemies? And are ya sure you don't have some overly-tanned bleach-blonde American surfer boy waitin' for you at home?" He grinned, raising his brows and pausing before he took another bite. "And yes, that is how we view all Americans."
The Bleeding Rose
His eyes were trained on her, so intent and questioning. It was as if she was some complicated problem, and he was struggling to solve her. At least he wanted to solve her, right? Wrong. She was still just a problem, and he was still...well, a mystery. She wanted to change the subject, wanted to ask him something, but there were too many questions to know where to begin. He told her she apologized too much, smirking at her, staring her down. She was having trouble breathing. "Maybe."
Maybe. How original.
It seemed as though he had complimented her. It felt as though he had complimented her...but the reality was, he had just assured her that she was not overweight. The way he kept inquiring about a boyfriend waiting back home though...Well, why would he care about that if he wasn't interested in being more than friends? Because he was curious, because he was trying to figure out why she'd reacted so negatively to waking up in his arms, because he wanted to know if anyone would look for her, were he to slaughter her and bury her in the woods. There were plenty of other reasons.
But his eyes were wandering over her. Lucy sat incredible still, as if he were taking her picture, and moving would ruin the moment. He was like a bad waiter, inquiring further the moment she stuffed her mouth full of food. Lucy struggled to chew and swallow quickly, choking a little on her food as an involuntary laugh bubbled up at the comment about American's. She took a gulp of water and cleared her throat, shaking her head. "A couple friends back home, no enemies. Well, probably a few but none that I know of. No surfer boy waiting for me, though I did have a chubby pre med student following me around for a couple weeks. He was nice. I still didn't like him." from the way she spoke it was clear that the disliking of others was rather common.
"Your view of American's is warped. We'd be lucky to have a country full of tanned, blonde men. Unfortunately, most of our population consists of the obese and the ugly. And we don't live off of burgers and beer. Sure, we eat a lot of it, but our fast food culture is very complex and diverse. Burgers are only a small percentage of all the crap we eat." She took another bite of her dinner, looking up from her plate and letting her eyes scan over him briefly. She wasn't going to let him drill her all night, not without getting some answers of her own.
"So, you said you came out here to be alone. Personally, I perceive you to bring some random girl you hardly know to keep you warm at night. But seeing as you've come alone...you're either getting away from a nagging girlfriend, or a nagging wife. Then again, I suppose you could have some fatal flaw that makes you undate-able? Are you a hoarder? Do you collect dead animals and mount them on your wall? Do you live with your mother?" She smirked at him, taking another bite of dinner and waiting patiently for a reply.