Mr. Hemmings | Luke Hemmings

seven » mørning

"How about I go make some breakfast? You can take a shower and do whatever it is you need to do, and it'll be ready when you're done."

I nodded, and we both went about our business.

After exiting the shower, the overwhelming scent of pancakes and bacon wafted through the air and into my nose. I hadn't even realized how hungry I was until then. I walked into the kitchen in my clothes from last night just as Luke was placing the plates with glasses of orange juice on the table.

"It smells good," I complimented as I took a seat.

"Well, let's just hope it tastes good," he laughed. "I'm not that great of a cook."

I took a bite of the blueberry pancakes, and surprisingly, it was really good. "Can't cook, my ass," I mumbled after swallowing.

"This is about the extent of my skills," he shook his head, digging into his own plate.

We ate the rest of our food in silence, and I offered to do the dishes afterwards, refusing to take no for an answer. It was the least I could do considering he gave up his Friday night to take care of a drunk eighteen-year-old. After a little bit of arguing, we settled on me washing while he dried.

While I was washing a pan, Luke decided it would be a good idea to booty bump me unexpectedly, resulting in me dropping the pan into the soapy water and the suds flying into my face.

"You little shit," I glared at him while wiping the soap from my face.

"Oops," he giggled. And when I say giggled, I mean he actually giggled. A twenty-something-year-old man fucking giggled!

I stuck my hands back into the water but not to grab the pan. I scooped out a handful of bubbles and smeared them onto his face, and he instantly shut up.

He wiped the suds away. "Oh, you're gonna pay for that," he devilishly grinned making my eyes go wide.

He twirled the towel around that he was holding and wiggled his eyebrows. I tried to run past him, but he was too quick. He snapped the towel against my ass making me let out a yelp. I continued to run with him chasing after me. He tackled me to the couch and pinned my hands on either side of my head.

"Whatcha gonna do now, baby girl?" He whispered lowly. My heart leaped at the pet name, and I'm sure he could hear it beating loudly in my chest.

Before I could even process what I was doing, I smashed my lips to his. He responded back quickly and sat up pulling me with him so that I was sitting on his lap. I tangled my fingers into the slight curls of his soft hair and tugged gently while his hands squeezed my hips. He let out a quiet moan giving me the opportunity to deepen the kiss. I slipped my hands underneath the material of his black t-shirt, feeling the smoothness of his lightly toned stomach. Before it could any further, the sound of Halsey's song Gasoline filled the air. It was my phone.

I jumped away and breathlessly answered the call without checking the caller ID. "Hello?"

"Where the fuck are you!?" Lindsey's voice sounded from the other line worriedly.

"Oh, um," I couldn't tell her I was at Mr. Hemmings' house. "I got a ride home last night." I lied.

"Oh, really? Because I'm at your house, and you're not here. Michael said you never came home last night."

"Shit," I cursed. "Um, it's not important then. I'm okay though. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"You better be because Michael is about to lose his shit." And with that she hung up.

"Fuck," I cursed again. "I need to get home," I spoke out loud to myself.

"Let me drive you," Mr. Hemmings offered, and I accepted. He grabbed his keys and led me to his car.

I had him stop about a block away from my house. I didn't want to risk anybody seeing me with him.

"Thanks for everything," I said awkwardly while exiting the vehicle.

"Anytime," he smiled. "Now, you better get home before your brother gets even more upset."

I rolled my eyes at Michael's protective nature. "Thanks, again."

»»»

"Where the fuck have you been!?" Michael shouted as soon as he saw me. He was waiting on the front porch steps.

"None of your business," I scoffed, giving him the same attitude as he gave me yesterday.

"It becomes my business when my little sister disappears without telling anyone where she went."

"I'm the same age as you dumbass, and you're not dad. You can't tell me what to do." I crossed my arms over my chest.

He stood up and walked over to where I was standing. "You're just lucky mom isn't here right now." He shook his head.

"Just leave me alone. I'm hungover, and I don't want to deal with your shit," I shoved passed the colorful haired boy and into the house. It seemed like all he wanted to do anymore was pick fights with me. I was not going to put up with it, however.

Once in the safety of my room, I shimmed out of my dirty clothes and into a pair of running shorts (even though I wasn't going for a run) and a baggy t-shirt and curled up into a fuzzy blanket with my laptop to watch One Tree Hill on Netflix.

Author's Note:

I wrote this while listening to country music...go ahead and judge me. country music is in my veins. you'd understand if you saw where I lived.

I feel so weird writing stuff about kissing and sex and stuff because I'm a virgin and I've never even had my first kiss yet or even a boyfriend for fuck's sake...y'all probably think I'm like 12 or something, but I'm really not. I'm actually 19...I'm literally going to be alone for the rest of my life because the only guys who ever like me are the really creepy, stalkerish ones.

anyways, please vote and comment!

love,

Alyssa