stepbrother ➼ luke hemmings (REWRITING)

38 - YET TO BE REWRITTEN

"Two hours?" she shrieks, and I hear something crashing in the background. "Shit."

"You okay?"

"Just peachy," Ashley mumbles.

"What happened?"

She pauses. "I hit my head on the ceiling fan."

"How the-"

"I was jumping on my bed when you said that she's been gone for two hours and I jumped too high. So, now my head is fucked. Fuck you."

"You and Michael are perfect for each other, did I tell you that?" I grumble. She laughs.

"Although Mashley may live 'til the end of time, we need to sort Lophie out first," she stops. "So, she's been gone for two hours?"

"Don't remind me."

"I have to, because you still have time to catch up," she informs me triumphantly.

"No, I don't," I shake my head, before realizing that she can't see me. "Again, I don't have my car keys. I'd Uber my way to Melbourne if I could, but I got banned from using that ages ago."

I hear her choke on a laugh. "You got banned from calling an Uber?"

"Maybe."

"You're stupid," she says, clearing her throat. "Anyways, your dad took your car keys, right?"

"Right."

"So you can't drive anywhere?"

"Right again."

"You're doomed to the Hemmings' household for as long as you live?"

"You are not making this any better for me," I mutter unhappily, and she chuckles.

"Oh, clueless little Lucifer. I think you're forgetting that you have friends. Friends who can drive."

"What?"

She breathes in frustration. "Can you please have a brain for like, ten minutes?"

"Yeah, yeah," I say dismissively. "What are you hinting at?"

"Ashton can drive. Calum can drive. Michael can ride a bike, but that's besides the point," she says. "Get one of the guys to drive us."

"Woah, woah, wait," I stop her. "Us?"

"Yes, idiot boy, us." she says, and I can imagine the scowl on her face.

"Since when was there an 'us'?"

"What, did you really think I was gonna sit around waiting for you to bring my best friend back from an eight hour roadtrip? You can't even put your shirt on the right way round."

I look down at my Nirvana top, frowning when I don't see the logo. Reaching a hand up behind my back, my fingers trail along the smooth print and I mentally facepalm.

"You have a point," I mutter. "Can you get the guys to meet me here in like, ten minutes?"

"Already done." she replies, and that's when I hear the phone line going dead.

Letting out a small sigh, I fling the phone back on my mom's desk, not caring if it hit anything before rushing to my room.

She's out, which explains why the house is so quiet. That, and because my fuckhead of a father ran away with my fucking girlfriend (and step-sister, but let's not include that bit because I'm pretty sure it's illegal).