Free Speak (Witches & Warlocks Book 1) by R. M. Webb Page B

Zoe Tate and I can’t speak.
    Becca’s protesting and Carter’s scowling and Luke looks uncomfortable. “Really. You, know me. I like to walk anyway. I had a great time, I think it all just got to me.” I’m babbling excuses, tossing anything at Becca that’ll make sense because the last thing I need is for her to know that I heard what she said to Noah.
    “Well at least let me walk you home.” Of course Luke wants to walk me home. It’s just that kind of day. Or night. Or whatever. The kind of day where you get all dressed up and pretend to be something that you’re not only to find out that you actually are something you’re not. I don’t have it in me to fight, so I just nod my acquiescence and we head outside. He’s gonna have to deal with me being quiet though, because the noise in my head is too loud to talk over.
    Which he actually does. He even manages to respect my space, no clingy arm wrapping around me, no trying to hold my hand so I have to wonder about that strange purple creeping fog feeling, he just walks beside me, studies the people we pass, and smiles at me when he catches my eye. This whole night is weird. I take that back, things have been weird since Noah stopped at our table all those weeks ago. Becca’s insistence that he’s no good despite my evening with him that proved that he is in fact, very good. Becca claiming to know anyone that looks like Carter well enough to want to go out on a double date. Becca claiming to be my guardian, Noah acting like that means something wrong, and apparently I am something. And it’s a tragedy that I don’t know.
    I sigh and Luke looks my way. “You gonna be ok?”
    I nod and smile and for some reason, I feel like I’m the one who needs to make him feel better. As far as he knows, he was out on a date with some chick who just had a nervous breakdown or something. When I’m feeling uncertain, contact makes me feel better, so I reach out and thread my fingers through his.
    “You’re really sweet, you know,” he says, leaning down and speaking softly.
    I think what he means is weird. I’m really weird. But it’s cool of him not to be so blunt about it. The quiet of the evening is really nice after the super loud energy of Flannigan’s and I’m so not ready to break it. I lean my head into his shoulder and we walk the rest of the way to my apartment door like that. I haven’t said one word and Luke hasn’t pressed me. He’s let me be silent. No more questions, no more forcing me out of my shell. It’s just us, hand in hand under the night sky, the summer breeze dancing like silk scarves around my bare arms.
    I probably should have told him he’s really sweet, too. ‘Cause he actually is. Outside of the bombshell of a conversation I’d overheard, it’d been a really good night. A groundbreaking night actually, and all because of Luke’s strangely comforting presence and his insistence that I join in the conversation and participate instead of observe.
    I’m so out of my depth. Let’s forget for a second that Noah seems to think he knows more about me than I know about myself. And let’s forget that he seems to know more about Becca than I do and that I think she doesn’t want me around him because of it. Let’s get rid of all of that because that adds a layer of complexity that I can’t process just yet.
    Let’s just realize that a week ago, I was walking up to my front door with Noah, totally infatuated, hoping beyond hope that he’d kiss me. And now, just a week later, I’m walking up to my front door with Luke. Two weeks. Two guys. I don’t know how to be this person. I might as well have been dropped into someone else’s story because this sure as hell isn’t mine.
    I lead Luke up to my front door and don’t have it in me to kiss him. My insides are all knotted up and I think one more bit of emotion will be enough to make me explode. There’s not a single thing I could say that doesn’t sound stupid or overused or just