A month. One whole freaking month. Four long weeks of subtle digging and prying from my mother. Thirty-one days of sympathetic glances and overly-careful conversation from my friends.

A month before I finally came face to face with Percy.

I was wandering absently down the hallway, late for class as always, when I dropped my pencil. It hit the floor, the soft clatter echoing through the empty hallway, and as I bent down to pick it up, a pair of worn out high-tops came into view as the owner rounded the corner.

I froze, hunched over, my finger tips brushing the side of my pencil, and stared at the hole in the toe of the right sneaker. They had stopped walking, just as frozen as me, but in a much less painstaking position.

I couldn't bring my self to stand up, or to grab for my pencil, or to fucking blink. So, obviously sensing my dilemma, his hand appeared in front of my eyes as he curled his fingers around my pencil.

I now had no excuse not to straighten and face him.

As I did, taking in slowly his torn jeans, red sweatshirt, and finally his face, ocean blue eyes and sexy hair, all I could think was something along the lines of:

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

Percy sucked his lip into his mouth and looked down at the pencil in his hand. I didn't move, my eyes re-evaluating every disoriented inch of him. A sick sort of satisfaction spread through me, followed immediately by a horrendous wave of guilt.

Percy extended his hand, "I picked up your pencil for you."

My knees grew weak with nostalgia and I had to swallow the lump that had risen in my throat before responding quietly, "Thank you."

But I didn't take it from him. I didn't want to touch him. I could barely stand looking at him.

Percy blinked at me, his face becoming more and more blank the longer he held the pencil and I didn't take it. Finally he let his hand fall to his side, fingers still clenched around the smooth wood of the pencil.

We stared at each other, his eyes narrowed and a genuine look of concern appeared on his face, "What happened to your face?"

I frowned, momentarily confused until Percy made a small move forward, as if to reach out and touch the bruise I suddenly remembered was spattered across my cheek. Instantly, he flinched back, having temporarily forgotten the void that had been created between us.

"Oh." I mumbled, covering the marred flesh, "I . . . ran into a door."

Percy studied me, contemplating, and then he pursed his lips and sighed. It was almost insulting how easily he believed my story.

There was an extended awkward silence during which neither of us looked directly at the other, but never removed our eyes from the other's person all the same.

Finally Percy lifted his arm in a helpless gesture, "So, uh, how are you?"

"I'm okay." I lied, my voice giving only the slightest of squeaks, "You?"

He met my eyes for a millisecond before looking down at my pencil in his hand, "Okay." He whispered.

"Okay." I repeated softly. And even though we had always been good liars, that sixth sense found a way to creep in through our vulnerable tones, revealing the inner hurt and angst we both were trying so hard to hide.

Percy shifted from foot to foot, and I stood unusually still. We both felt the insatiable urge to run, to get away from the devastatingly obvious pain written all over the other's face. Yet at the same time, I could feel that neither of us wanted to walk away from this chance meeting without making something, anything just a little bit better.

Percy was the one to break the silence.

"Sophia" He began, but never finished, because all of the sudden I was lifted off the ground, a strong arm around my waist.

I let out a squeal of shock and fear, trying desperately to keep my eyes locked on Percy, but as I was set down, my assailant spun me to face them.

"Sophia." Luke smiled down at me. I narrowed my eyes, more out of confusion than the contempt I really felt when I saw his face. I shook my head and turned around, but Percy was already gone.

And he had taken my pencil with him.

"Hey." Luke said, tugging my arm so I faced him again. I turned reluctantly.

"Woah, " He recoiled, "What the fuck happened to your face?"

I sighed loudly, "I ran into a door."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Wow."

"Yea, " another sigh, "It was a pretty vindictive door."

"I'll bet." Luke surveyed my injury for a moment longer, giving me the impression that he was appraising its value. Finally I couldn't stand the eerie feeling of being a Fight Club trophy any longer.

"What do you want?" I asked him. The smile faded from his face as he leaned back against the lockers behind him.

"Look, " He sighed, "I wanted apologize for the shit I said to you at the dance. I was an asshole."

I frowned, was Luke really apologizing for his drunken behavior when my own best friend hadn't found the courage to apologize for his animalism when he was stone sober? But then again, he had been about to say something when the walking automaton speaking to me had given me a very half-asked Heimlich.

Luke gave me a rather nauseating impression of a begging puppy and reached forward to take my free hand, "I'm sorry."

I sighed, "Thanks."

I was far too exhausted by my impending doom to hold any more grudges than absolutely necessary.

Luke smiled confidently at my easily obtained forgiveness, and made a bold move by reaching up to run a hand through my hair, "Ya know, I'd like to give us another shot."

I cocked an eyebrow up at him quizzically, "Us?"

"Yea, " He laughed, "So what do you think? Can you forgive me?"

"I sort of thought I already had."

Luke laughed again, as if we were sharing some really entertaining inside joke.

I suppose . . . maybe I missed the punch line?

"Great." His hand still lingered in my hair, "So . . . "

"So."

"What time should I pick you up tonight?" He asked, that hair tangling hand coming to rest on the back of my neck.

I blinked my eyes rapidly at him, "For what?"

"Our date." He answered as if the answer should have been obvious.

"What date?" I asked, reminding that, no, it wasn't.

Luke's constant, egotistical smile grew, and he took a subtle step toward me, "You're really cute when you play dumb."

I widened my eyes and nodded, "Hmm, thanks. I must be positively gorgeous then."

Because I wasn't playing.

"You're smokin'." Luke whispered, leaning toward my ear.

Smokin'? Is that supposed to be romantic? Turn my legs into Jell-O? Isn't Percy suppose to be the 'Smokin'' one?

"But that's beside the point."

I nodded again, not totally following the conversation having missed the part where it took it's plunge into flirting and verbal foreplay, "Most thing are."

Luke frowned and shook his head with a slight laugh, "Ya know what? I rarely know what the hell you're talking about."

"Ooo you've joined the masses."

"So . . . " Luke slid an arm around my waist, and to this day I can't fathom why I let him.

"Eight then?" He asked.

I stared up at him innocently, "Eight what?"

"O'clock."

I took a large step back, out of his reach and performed a snazzy little twisting dance, "Nine o'clock rock!"

Luke ignored my musical outburst and closed the gap between us as if I had never created it. Intentionally or not.

"We could get some dinner, catch a movie."

"I don't know, " I whispered, "Those movies tend to run real fast."

Luke's arms both found their way around me, tugging me against his body and forcing the corner of my English text book into my rib cage, "I'm pretty fast myself." There was only a little bit of a suggestive quality to that comment.

And for a moment, I let my thoughts take a dirty turn and a smug smile formed on my face involuntarily, Yes, Luke, my good sir, I'll just bet you are.

Then he pressed a kiss to my mouth, stunning me into paralysis, "I'll be there at eight." And the subtlest ass-pat I have ever experienced, "Dress sexy."

I blinked slowly as he released me. Then I regained enough of what is purely "Sophia" to give my greatest attempt at coy I will ever give in my life:

"It's the only way I know how."

Seriously, I should get a fucking Oscar for that shit right there.

A sleazy smile curved it's away across Luke's mouth as he started down the hall.

Then the prospect of pulling a J.T. and attempting to bring sexy back hit me like a semi and I shouted after him, "Wait, sexy?"

He merely chuckled and sent me a wave, "See you tonight, Sophie Baby."

The second his back was turned I grimaced, "Sophie Baby?" I repeated, this time the word really did leave a sour taste in my mouth. I made a gagging sound and turned to continue down the hallway.