Patch Up by Stephanie Witter

around me. We quickly step outside onto the wraparound porch where several couples look lost in their own world with what would be best kept behind closed doors.
     
    Duke walks some more and I follow him while putting my leather jacket back on. He finally stops next to an old, black SUV. He opens the driver’s door and climbs inside. From outside, I see him clenching his hands around the steering wheel; his strong, masculine knuckles turning white. He puts his forehead on the steering wheel and closes his eyes.
     
    Taking a deep breath to get back some self-control, I open the passenger door and jump in. I cough once at the smell of stale tobacco in the car. The ashtray is full, almost overflowing onto the floor where two empty cans of Coke are at my feet. I push them away and put my head against the head rest, closing my eyes a second, dreading the difficult conversation that’s bound to be coming. I don’t know what to say or how to explain what just happened and how I reacted. What half-truth would work at this point?
     
    “For the first time in my life I wanted to punch someone,” Duke says, releasing the tight hold of the steering wheel but keeping his forehead on it. “That guy really is an asshole.”
     
    Now, not only do I feel ashamed of my reaction to Sean, but I also feel ashamed to have him as my ex. It’s the first time ever that I feel ashamed that I had a relationship with him. I wonder what Duke will think when he knows that I spent three years of my life with Sean.
     
    Last week I ruined Kate’s night because of Sean and now it’s Duke’s turn. When will Sean leave me alone? Before, he acted as if he didn’t know me at all. Now, all of a sudden, he’s always coming back to me, almost assaulting me. 
     
    “I’m sorry,” I whisper weakly, my voice wobbly. Get a grip, Skye!
     
    He sits up and stares at me, his eyebrows disappearing behind his thick dark hair that is falling in his eyes. “It’s not your fault,” he states in a murmur, matching my tone, but these four little words are laced with worry. The puzzle is less mysterious all of a sudden, I’m sure.
     
    “I didn’t know he would be here, or else ...”
     
    “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have come. It’s not because your ex is at a party that you can’t come.”
     
    I nod and look away from his face, which shows nothing beside curiosity now that he sees I’m not about to fall down and cry like a baby. I’m stronger than that, or at least, I’m used to hiding my feelings. Most of the time.
     
    “I know, but ... It’s not that simple.”
     
    “Because you’re not over him?”
     
    I turn back to him. He leans his left side against the door, his head in his left hand while his elbow is supporting it. His calm and patience is weirding me out. As is his question.
     
    “In a way.”
     
    “Don’t be cryptic, Skye. It’s a yes or a no.” He sighs and turns on the radio to a rock station, the same one Kate and I listen to in our room.
     
    “Because you’re an expert in relationships? So tell me, where’s your girlfriend?” I retort coldly, my hand creeping to the door handle, ready to fly away and not fight against him. Even if he’s annoying me, he didn’t do anything wrong.
     
    His demeanor changes completely. I mean, my tone was harsh, but I don’t see why he should be all tense, his eyes burning a hole in my face. Maybe it’s because some girl broke his heart and he became some kind of a player since then.
     
    He releases a breath and shakes his head, his gaze never leaving mine. “She’s around here. Not far from here,” he replies somberly through gritted teeth.
     
    A chill runs down my spine. I don’t like this intensity, like he’s ready to tear my head off. “So why is she not here tonight?”
     
    To say that I’m surprised to know that he’s in a committed relationship is an understatement. Suddenly, the calm inside the car is too much for me. I reach for the door handle, but