To Break Her Heart

Chapter 11 ~ "Guess who doesn't give a damn?"

A/N: Sorry this chapter is so badly written, but I really wanted to get something out :D I hope you like it anyways! I'm no good at romance, but I hope it was alright.


Chapter 11: "Guess who doesn't give a damn?"

"Guess what? Guess what? Guess what?"

I peered at Luke from over my glasses and raised an eyebrow. "Ooh, I want to play this game!" I exclaimed in mock-cheerfulness. "Guess who doesn't give a damn?"

He looked affronted, sending me a withering glare.

I simply cocked my head to the side and smiled stiffly. Ever since our...awkward moment a couple hours ago, I'd been feeling supremely uncomfortable around him.

I wasn't trying to, but I was pushing him further away than normal. But could you blame me? I'd broken up with my boyfriend barely a week before, and then this guy who's never been romantically inclined ever suddenly makes a move on me when he said he was going to teach me how to get over the broken heart that I swear I didn’t have.

Not to mention that said guy was someone who I never used to feel such weird things for. It just was making me sick. At least, that's what I hoped it was when my tummy crumpled in on itself upon seeing the devil.

I'd finished the pasta and was working on salad when Luke wandered into the kitchen with his bandaged finger hanging disregarded at his side. I had exiled him from coming near here until further notice because I didn't want his eyebrows to be burnt off. Knowing the lad, it would most likely happen. He made me look like a well-seasoned, classically-French-trained chef.

"Jordy!" Luke whined. "You're not supposed to be so mean like that!"

I pushed my glasses up so that they were on top of my head, and placed the salad bowl down. "Fine, you prat, what is it?"

"My mum called a while ago, and she says that they're going to be late,” he told me cheekily, that deep dimple in his cheeks making its appearance.

I narrowed my gaze at his careless expression. "Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

He paused. "I forgot."

I rolled my eyes. "Typical," I muttered, before reaching over and punching his arm with all my strength. He didn't even bat an eyelash. "How late?"

"Really late," he reiterated.

I rolled my eyes at his lack of clarification. "How late, Lulu?"

He scowled at his nickname. "Maybe ten. Ten thirty. Who knows, I didn't ask."

"Why didn't you ask, moron?"

“Because I didn’t really care…” he trailed off, twiddling his thumbs like the idiot he was. Remind me why I thought it was cute? God, was I an idiot? No, don’t even answer that.