Bro Code : Luke Hemmings IN EDITING

Chapter Twenty-Four

The rest of dinner goes smoothly and I really enjoy being with Luke's family. They're beyond kind and welcoming. After dinner, Luke and I negotiate to do dishes while his parents clear the table. Their family is so close with each other, I admire it. After Luke and I are done, he offers to drive me home. It's a little after ten and I'm sure my mother would like me home by now. The ride is filled with laughter and talk as we discuss the crazy things his parents said tonight. We come into view of my house and I can feel my precious night coming to an end. 

The car rolls to a stop in my driveway. He pulls the key from the ignition and steps out; I do the same. He meets me on my side of the car. His large warm hand finds my much smaller one. He smiles down as he does it, almost as if he's asking permission. It surprises me every time he does something like this. When Michael and I shared the few words about him, we made him sound like a total player.

His feet tap quietly against the pavement of the driveway as we walk in silence to my front door. The large metal door is intimidating compared to his small, oak one. He lets go of my hand and turns to face me, the porch light illuminating his face.

"I had a really nice time tonight," I tell him.

He smiles which makes me feel better. "I did too. I hope my parents weren't too much," he chuckles a breathy laugh.

"No, of course not. I loved them. They were so nice to me," I assure him.

"I'm glad you like them. Maybe we can do it again sometime?" he asks.

"Still no fake dates?" I joke.

"No, no more fake dates," he laughs.

"Good, I was hoping you'd say that," I admit.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asks, I sense that it's rhetorical. "So, good night?" he says, unsure.

"Good night, and thank you again for tonight," I smile. He brings his arms up and wraps me in a hug. I put my arms around his broad body, my face not ever reaching his shoulders; he's warm and like a muscular teddy bear. Talk about a contradiction.. He holds me for a sweet second, his cologne filling my senses. Where do guys get this stuff, it always smells good. As he pulls away, his cheeks brush mine and his soft lips connect with my skin. The butterflies and heat return.

"Good night," he smiles, leaving me in my spot. I open the door and head to my room. There's so much that I have to process. Luke is basically perfect, but what's the catch? It's never this good.. I decide to sleep it over and hope there is no catch, and if there is, I hope it's a good one.

Michael's POV

It's been two days since my mom asked me to write the song. It's early Wednesday morning. I didn't sleep at all last night. I was walking home from my neighbors and saw Hope and Luke on her porch. I was so fucking mad. She looked so happy with him, but that's wrong. So wrong. It should be me. I immediately came home and ripped up the happy song I'd been writing. I was trying to use all of our good memories, but seeing them together was clouding my thoughts. I grabbed my notebook and started writing. Here I am, twelve hours later.. It's nearly done. It's slow, and if people listen carefully, they'll realize the song doesn't match the happy people on the screen. I have to finish it today, otherwise my mother won't have the rest of her pitch and could get into a lot of trouble.

I finished all the words and was focusing on the sound of it. I titled it, Too Late. I think it's appropriate given what the song is about. Hope. I'm working on the last line, then hopefully I'll be able to record it quickly and email it to her. 

(play song now)

"It's never too late. Never too, never too late, never too late," I sing to myself. That's it. A soft ending for my emotional breakdown in song form. I pull up the camera on my computer and record the song with just my voice and guitar. I run through it once, decide it's good enough, and email it to her. I text her just to let her know that it's there, then I hop in the shower.