Sassy

Chapter 15: Knee Socks and Confessions

The twenty-first time I saw him, he confessed.

Allie's P.O.V

I was walking around in knee socks and underwear when Luke called me.

"Hello?" I simply answered my phone, not bothering to look at the caller ID, my eyes staying focused on my essay.

"Hey babe," Luke's voice was low.

"Luke?" I asked.

His voice went back to normal. "Does anyone else call you you babe?"

"My side hoe, but you don't need to know about that," I said sarcastically.

Luke heaved a sigh. "Anyway, I was calling because I wanted some phone sex, but now that that's ruined, what's up?"

"Who said its ruined?" I said, cradeling my phone between my shoulder and my ear.

"It isn't?" Luke sounded surprised before he cleared his throat and said seductively, "What are you wearing?"

"Knee socks," I said honestly.

Luke's tone lost it's seductiveness. "Knee socks?"

"Yeah," I said. "I have an essay to write and its giving me hell."

"Well, my boner's dead," Luke sighed heavily.

"To be honest, I could care less, this essay is due tomorrow and I don't even have a thesis," I sighed, rubbing my forehead.

I could literally feel the worry lines appearing.

"Have you tried writing a body paragraph first?" Luke asked.

I frowned. "What?"

"Try writing the body paragraph first," Luke explained. "That's what my English teacher told me to do in high school and it really helped."

"So I do what?" I asked, holding my pen above the paper, poised to take notes.

"You write one of your body paragraphs first, then you try and write your thesis," Luke repeated.

I dropped my pencil in frustration. "I don't get it."

Luke sighed. "Okay, I'm coming over."

"Wait-" I said but he had already hung up. 

...

I just had time to get shorts on when the doorbell rang. I opened it and said, "Wow, you didn't take long."

Luke grinned. "I was at a friend's house. Nice to see you," he bent down and pecked my cheek before walking into my living room.

I shut the door behind him. Luke had gotten a lot more touchy-feely since our deal. He would peck my cheek, call me nicknames, hug me randomly, and sometimes when we were just hanging out his hand would rest in the middle of my thigh.

When I came into the living room, Luke was sitting on the ground looking at my papers, brow crinkled. "What even is your paper on?"

"The drinking age in America," I sighed, sitting down next to him. "The professor wants us to write a paper on whether or not it should be lowered or not, but use evidence about how alcohol affects the brains and other statistics, like the drinking ages in other countries compared to their drinking and driving related deaths."

Luke whistled. "Damn, that sounds like a lot of work. What happened to the, if I can give up my life for my country I should be able to have a beer?"

I shrugged. "My professor said that that reason didn't have any base in fact, just opinion. He wanted us to argue our side using numbers and learning what alcohol does to the brain."