art geek ⌽ hemmings

⌱ 0.8

And she didn't want it to stop.

Luke

She felt like heaven, plus Nirvana, plus wildflowers (plus that scene in Willy Wonka where Charlie starts to fly). She tasted like faint berries and vodka. Like peppermint lipgloss. She tasted how Luke imagined the universe to taste like, her dress hiking up her thighs hadn't done him justice, either. She looked like a girl from a Prince music video above him. The moonlight illuminated her hair as if it had caught fire, enhancing her cheeks like an imperial goddess and shining on her lips like they were cherries. He wanted to die.

"You could stay at mine, y'know." Luke kissed Hallie's temple, guiding her hands to his and entangling her fingers between his own (again) as he left alcohol-burdened bruises along her collarbone, not failing for a millisecond to syncopate with the music playing from the porch just metres away. Hallie was a complete mess of giggles and moans into Luke's shoulder, which only drove him further over the verge of complete insanity. He didn't want it to end. Her eyes shone like citrine (with little help from the fairy lights hung on the garden wall) as she lazily kissed him again. Luke wished he had a polaroid of her face.

"All my stuff's at Vi's." Luke let his head fall on Hallie's shoulder, -her perfume smelt of musk and vanilla and what he predicted seashells to smell like- he could feel her smile into his hair. "I think I could stay at yours." Hallie's steady breathing against his neck and Chris Brown playing from the porch could have sent him to sleep then and there. You're better than Nirvana, Luke thought.

"What's the time, baby girl?" He plead, holding up his hand against Hallie's as if for comparison. He studied how petite hers were, how he could only just make out the vague paint stains on her fingers under the moonlight. She just laughed, checking the time on her phone with her free hand.

"It's 1:25, Luke." Luke felt her rest her head on Luke's (he really, really didn't want her to move).

"Then we gotta go, baby girl." He slurred, managing to pull Hallie up -he didn't even know how he kept his balance- as he situated himself off of her.

"Let's go find Vi." She concluded and took his hand, leading him to the veranda and back inside (not that she knew this house anymore than Luke did). He tightened his clutch on Hallie's hand, attempting to walk in a straight line as they passed a plethora of intoxicated and perspiring bodies.

And that's when Luke knew. That under Jesse Pratt's hallway light, with Hallie's hand in his, with the instigation of her disheveled hair and her eyes hardly managing to sustain their weight against her smudged mascara (which only made her a million times cuter), with the taste of her tongue lingering on his mind, that's when Luke knew. That Hallie was completely and immensely more than anyone he had sat next to in geography class. Even if he was drunk and helpless. Maybe, he thought. I could love her.

And he probably could love Hallie, if she even contemplated loving him back.

Hallie

Somehow, Hallie had resulted in Luke's bedroom. On his bed, complete with Batman sheets, her schoolbag propped on the floor (Michael drove them as he and Violet hadn't drank). Luke looked at her and sent a tired excuse for a smile, letting his head fall on her chest. She sighed and mindlessly played at his hair, not caring the slightest if they fell asleep in each other's transfixion smelling like cheap alcohol.

"We should shower, baby girl." Luke mumbled into Hallie's shoulder, almost forming a pool of saliva on her dress. She wasn't even taken aback by Luke's abrupt nickname for her anymore. It felt more like a mistake, as if he weren't even talking to her.

Except he was.

"You have a shower, then. I'll just change here or something." She breathed, her hand finding its way back to Luke's hair. She chewed on the innards of her cheeks.