totally okay |lrh|

0.2

Indigos POV,,

The sight of his face, the face that I've seen so often on televised award show performances, on the cover of my 5SOS CD, YouTube videos, and posters on Eve's bedroom walls. It surprises me when an electric jolt seems to shoot up my entire body, all the way from the tips of my toes to the crown of my head. It's so unexpected, that it almost feels wrong, seeing such a famous face here, in this completely ordinary, off-the-wall sandwich shop. My whole brain feels jumbled and confused and my stomach keeps leaping like I'm on a roller coaster, even though my body is completely still, frozen with surprise and a certain amount of fear and embarrassment about the apple juice slopped down the front of my shirt. I open my mouth to say something but no sound comes out; I'm too mortified to even speak.

Then his eyes meet mine.

I don't know exactly why it took us so long to look at each other, but I guess I was looking at the apple juice drops on his band t-shirt. When I finally meet his gaze, I notice his eyes. Those posters didn't do his eyes justice, not by a long shot. They're so blue, his irises, like little pieces of broken-off robin's egg blue eyes, or bits of sea glass smoothed by decades of being rolled over in sand and water and salt. But the extraordinary part, even beyond the color, is how all my confusion and embarrassment and anxiety seem to melt away the instant our eyes meet, replaced by a subtle, but distinct and unmistakable sense of comfort, a feeling I don't come by all that often. I never want to look away from his eyes and give up that security, but I'm worried I'll creep him out if I stare at him for much longer. I turn my eyes back to the ground and try to think of something, anything, to say.

"At least it was only a five dollar lunch," I say, and as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I wish I hadn't said them. I mean, could I sound any more lame?

Luke, however, laughs at the joke. Not like a big, belting laugh or anything, but a laugh nonetheless. It doesn't sound forced, either. Maybe it wasn't such a dumb thing to say after all.

"I really am sorry," he says. His voice, with its cute Australian accent, is so sincere that I can't help looking up again.

"It's okay, it was an accident," I say. The apple juice-soaked part of my shirt is starting to stick rather unpleasantly to my skin. I try to pull the collar of my shirt away from my neck as inconspicuously as possible. "I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going, anyway."

"I wasn't, either."

I feel the corners of my mouth start to pull up in a grin. "So it's both of our faults, then," I say.

Like grins, too; the corners of his eyes scrunch together. "Yeah, I guess so."

Neither of us says anything for a second, and in our silence, I hear Eve's voice again, still emanating very loudly very from the speaker of my cell phone.

"Indie? Helloooooooo? Indie? What just happened?"

"Oh crap," I say, quickly reaching across the floor and picking up my phone. It doesn't appear to be damaged by apple juice or anything. My dad would never buy me a new one if I wrecked this one.

"Indie, is that you? What just—"

"Eve, I'll talk to you at rehearsal, alright?" I say, with half a glance at Luke.

"But—"

"Bye." I hang up the phone. Eve'll probably kill me later for leaving her in the dark like that, but what else can I do? I'll explain everything to her later, when Luke Hemmings isn't sitting two feet from me. Someone that won't be able to hear her insanely loud fangirl screaming.

By the time I've put my cell phone back in my dance bag, Luke is standing up, and holding his hand out to me. I just start at it, failing, for some reason, to figure out why it's there, so close to me, like he wants me to take it.