The Journalist and Her Actor

Chapter 27

I hate crying. I'm not a fan of any negative emotion at all if I am being honest. It makes me feel heavy, unsteady, like a stone falling through water, unable to scramble back to the surface. 

While joy, and happiness make me feel light, like sunshine soaking into skin, burning bright, sparking across a ribcage like sparklers, others feel like happiness is fragile. But I believe that sadness makes me fragile, leaving a door open inside that lets others see the raw broken parts of me. 

So sobbing on Luke's shoulder was a thing of nightmares, making me want to wall up everything bad and uncomfortable that I was feeling and shove it in a junk drawer. I wiped at my eyes, angry at myself, as I tried to tuck all of my emotions back into place. 

"I... I'm sorry," I breathed, moving out of his embrace, and settling down on the other side of the couch. My fingers were covered in mascara, which left me feeling even more horrified as I pictured the raccoon mascara rings that no doubt ran around my eyes and down my cheeks.

Luke didn't say a word. Quiet as I tried to settle back into my own space, my own skin, my own mind. I didn't like the feeling of being so... seen. 

"This... all of it is a mess," I said, wiping angrily at my eyes and earning more mascara splotches. "And I am just... too tired to wrap my head around it." Standing up, I moved away from the couch. "Um... thanks for letting us stay. I promise we won't stay longer than we need to."

Luke just watched me, utterly silent. As if he knew that anything he said would only leave me feeling like more of a burden, his kind words and gestures eating at me. "I'm going to sleep." Then I bolted from the room, leaving Luke sitting in the dark, his brown eyes following me out of the room. 

...

Sharing a house teaches you a lot about a person. Whether they are a morning person, what their breakfast choices are, how they take their coffee, their shower times— which I try not to think about, their choices in home decor, and how they spend their free time. 

This was how I came to learn that Luke was infuriatingly perfect. He liked to fill the kitchen with the smell of bacon and coffee in the morning. He showered at night, leaving plenty of hot water for my morning shower, and thoughtful notes to discover carved into the mirror that only appeared in the steam left behind by a shower. 

His free time was spent on video games, which is exactly how I found Luke and Carter the next morning, eyes glued to the giant flat screen TV, playing Super Mario Smash Bros.

"No fair! I wasn't paying attention!"

"That's how games work! We don't hit pause whenever you need a moment to mentally prepare! Deal with it!"

I watch Carter's character Samus destroy Luke's character Luigi with a vengeance. Luke could only stare at the screen, mouth wide open in shock. I leaned against the kitchen island fighting a smirk, watching my little brother demolish the movie star while sporting a pleased grin. 

It made me proud, I had taught him well. 

"Are you going to stand there all day and watch me have my butt handed to me, or you going to come over here and play?" Luke asked, his eyes never leaving the screen.

Carter groaned as Samus threw Luigi off the castle map of the game, causing Luke's character to die, ending the game. "If she plays, we will both be dead in about twenty seconds."

"Oh really?" Luke asked, eyebrows raised, his eyes finding mine.

I shrugged. "It's what I do. Put cocky boys in their place."