Then to my utter disbelief, he was gone.
* * * * *
Luke had been wrong. It did take long. So long, I had time to let it penetrate that Luke was off somewhere being the man at Lee’s back during a “situation”. I didn’t want to care but I got worried. Then I got scared. The longer it took for him to come back, the more scared I became. I should have been scared about being cuffed to a bed if something happened to Luke, and thus, who knew how long it would take for someone to find me, if ever (I had, in my state, forgotten about the cameras). Instead, I was just scared for Luke.
Then I got angry. Angry at Luke for leaving me the way I was, angry at him for having a scary-as-shit job and switching my anger to Lee for existing at all.
Finally, tiredness overwhelmed me, I was forced to roll to my side, find a somewhat comfortable position and I fell into a fitful sleep.
I woke up when the bed moved and I felt hands working efficiently at my wrists. Then I was free. I pulled my arms down and pins and needles attacked them viciously.
I bent my elbows and circled my hands at my wrists. Luke pulled me up to a sitting position in the bed, moved his body so his legs were around me, his front pressed against my back. Both of his hands worked at my arms, his fingers pressing in, forcing out the angry tingles.
“Babe,” he said softly against my neck.
I was silent and, even just awakened, absolutely furious.
“It took longer than I expected,” he continued.
No kidding, I thought but kept my mouth shut.
“I got away as soon as I could,” he told me.
Rat-bastard, I thought.
“Christ, Ava, I’m sorry.”
I don’t care. Go to hell. I hate you. I kept my silence.
The pins and needles subsided and I leaned forward, pulling away from his hands.
His arms went around my waist and kept me there, his mouth at my neck. “Ava,” he said against my skin. I jerked my neck away from him.
“Shit,” he muttered and moved away from me.
I scrambled and got my panties and the Triumph tee (let us not forget, I was na**d as a jaybird). I noticed he’d come straight to the bed fully-clothed to release me and now he was taking off his clothes. I tugged on my stuff and walked directly to my suitcases. I rummaged through them, found what I wanted and went to the bathroom. I yanked off the Triumph tee and put on a pair of pajama pants striped in yellow, green and pink and a fitted tee in matching pink. I walked out, threw the Triumph tee on the bed not even looking to see where Luke was. I grabbed a pillow and stomped to the couch.
I threw the pillow down, lay on the couch, tucked myself in a ball and wrapped my arms around my knees. I’d barely got in this position before Luke was there, lifting me up and carrying me to the bed. I didn’t struggle and I didn’t say a word.
He put me in bed. I scooted as far away from him as I could and settled. He yanked me to him, my back to his front, and held me close. I didn’t struggle against that either.
“I’m thinkin’ you givin’ up my tee isn’t a good sign,” he said into my hair.
He was so right.
I didn’t answer.
I was giving him the Ava Barlow Silent Treatment. I was famous for my silent treatment. Once I didn’t talk to Noah for a week after he’d done some stupid thing to piss me off. It drove him crazy and in the end he begged me to talk to him. This was one of the very few happy memories I had after he cleaned me out. I was figuring, cuffing me na**d to the bed and going out to do backup during some dangerous situation (not to mention, leaving me at all during my second on-the-verge-of-having-a-Lucas-Stark-induced-orgasm in one day) was worth at least twenty-seven years of the Ava Barlow Silent Treatment.
Luke just held tight. I stayed tense. After awhile, I felt his bodyweight relax into me as he fell asleep.
I didn’t fall asleep. I needed advice and not from Good Ava and Bad Ava. I needed someone to talk to about my life and what I should do. I had people kidnapping me, rear-ending me and pursuing me in car chases down busy streets. I had Luke thinking we were together and what we had was a “fuckuva lot more” than nothing.
I couldn’t talk to Sissy, she wanted me with Luke. I couldn’t talk to my Mom, she was shit at advice and usually didn’t spend much time listening before she turned the conversation to herself. I couldn’t talk to my sisters because I tried not to talk to my sisters if I could help it. I couldn’t talk to Uncle Vito because he was scary. I couldn’t talk to Mrs. Stark because she also wanted me with Luke.
I could have talked to my Dad. He was a great listener and even better at advice.
I felt trapped, scared, sad and because of all that, tears slid out of the corners of my eyes.