sired • luke hemmings/5sos [au]

fifteen // mixed signals

"This is not on, Luke," Andy says sternly, his eyes set intently on Luke. "You had no right to treat Ridley like that. You're acting like a stubborn little boy."

"So? I only said what was the truth. Not my fault she can't handle it." Luke shrugs. Ouch.

His dad fumes. "No, it wasn't the truth! All this is is you wanting something you know you can't have yet, and blaming your pain on Ridley is not the way to deal with it. If you want to blame someone, blame the Travelers."

"Oh, I do blame the Travelers. But she isn't exactly helping."

"She does have a name." I can't help myself, I have to speak up. How he speaks about me as if I am just an object is off-putting.

He doesn't even acknowledge me. He just stares at his parents, before turning around and stalking past me. My heart aches more in response.

I stand there for a few seconds, motionless. Andy and Liz try to be supportive, but we all know that they are wasting their breath. Only one person will make me feel better, but he isn't talking to me.

By the time we leave, Luke still hasn't talked to me, the guys are still trying to cheer me up, and I am still hurting. It sucks. What sucks even more is that I hoped my choice of outfit would snap Luke out of it, and he'd compliment me and smile approvingly. Of course, he doesn't. My leather waterfall jacket, peach, loose vest, tight-fitted black jeans and Converse aren't enough to break him out of this madness. That just makes me want to scream.

We are sat in Michael's Land Rover as we are on our way to school. Michael is up front with Luke, whereas I am sat between Calum and Ashton. Except from Luke, the boys talk amongst each other, but I'm not paying any attention to them. I'm trying my best to forget about these stupid, obnoxious sparks, but they seem to laughing at me as they take over all my senses. Suddenly, all I can focus on is Luke. How his arms look under his tight-fitted black and gray striped sweater, how he rolls his lip ring around his lip like he is trying to forget about something, and how his biceps seemingly grow bigger as his hands tighten on the bottom of his seat. He feels it, too. The electricity is too much for either of us to handle.

He doesn't look at me, though. He is stubborn and looks straight ahead, like if he pretends I'm not there, the sparks will die away. They are being stubborn, too. It's as if they love screwing with us, and seem to grow more intense as every second passes. Never before have I wanted to jump out of a moving vehicle, but at that moment I do.

I never imagined myself being so eager to get out of a car and step onto school grounds. But, when the car stops in the parking lot, I literally climb over Calum and jump out into the open air. I gasp for breath, the intensity of our connection making it hard to breathe. Is this what it's going to be like? I ask myself, finally catching my breath. Luke doesn't wait for us to get our wits together. He just stalks off into the school, ignoring all of the demanding stares he gets from almost every girl in the lot. I hate that this bothers me so much.

We meet Luke in the reception, who is sorting out things like our schedules, our locker combinations, and our slips. He hands them around, barely looking at me as he passes me mine. He seems determined not to touch me, which, of course, makes me want to touch him more. It sucks.

Once we find our lockers and change our codes, Michael tries to cheer me up. "Imagine his face on a chicken. A really fat, big, ugly chicken." I smile slightly. Michael's locker is next to mine, which I am extremely grateful for.

"Thanks, Mikey," I say, though my voice holds not an ounce of enthusiasm. This is going to be a long day.

After comparing our schedules, I have three lessons with Luke, two with Calum, and four with Ashton and Michael. We all have third period lunch, which isn't so bad. I try not dwell on the fact that I have one lesson where it is just Luke and me. I doubt he will sit next to me, so don't keep my hopes up. I'm tired of hoping.