alumni ➢ luke hemmings [DISCONTINUED]

1.8 ➢ Me.

"Budge up, silly!"

I bite the insides of my cheeks, a giggle at the back of my throat as Bethany Morane squeezes into the booth next to Luke.

He looks uncomfortable, and rightfully so; the seat's meant for one person and she seems to be going out of her way to make it for two.

"What are you doing here?" I ask her kindly, assuming that she's been here a while. She doesn't have quite the same flushed face as Luke and I, and the elegant evening dress she's wearing doesn't look practical enough to wade through the bitter cold outside in.

Bethany gives me a small smile that, similar to Luke's at times, I can't read; calm irritance, maybe? "I could ask you two the same thing,"

"We're just-" I begin, only to realise that I actually don't know where I'm going with any of this. Thankfully, I don't have to, for my sentence is abruptly cut short.

"Never knew it was a crime to get a drink with someone," Luke states, looking at Bethany with a straight face. I purse my lips together, now intimidated by his very sporadic shift in tone.

And just like that, the smiling, lighthearted and slightly less unbearable side of the man is gone; replaced, more like- shoved out of the way by this Luke, a Luke that's much ruder and much more intolerable.

A Luke that, I've come to realise, is the only Luke that he lets most of the people on campus (and probably the entirety of New York city) see.

"I never said that," Bethany chirps, not at all bothered by his snappy attitude and unnecessary glare. She doesn't keep her distance exactly, but she does the next best thing; she keeps her hands to herself rather than slipping them through the loop in his arm.

"Why are you here?" Luke asks her bluntly, not bothering to give the girl any time to fix herself. Although she's probably been inside much longer than we have, her nerves cause her to look much more flustered than we do combined.

"I always come here, Luke. You know that,"

"I don't."

"Oh, well-"

"Having a little party?" he practically snorts, raising his coffee mug up to his lips before nodding over to where an entire table is filled with other girls I barely recognise- two of which are Bethany's clones.

They see me staring and wave, balancing little teacups in their hands complete with matching saucers. They look like a set of twins straight out of a horror book, making me send them an uneasy smile back before turning away with a shiver.

"No, actually," Bethany says, fixing the collar of her swing dress, "We were just here to discuss a few things,"

"Discuss." Luke repeats, placing the mug back on the coaster before letting a light scoff fall from his lips, "The fuck are you, politicians now?"

"You don't need to be a politician to discuss things," I state, raising an eyebrow at his somewhat ignorant statement. He narrows his gaze at me, but regardless of his next few, sharp words, I can tell that none of it is truly out of spite.

"Shut it, Sophie."

"Actually," Bethany emphasises, leaning in towards me with her fingers wrung together. From underneath the table, she crosses one leg over the other, and the only reason I know this is because I'd felt the pointed toe of her heels scrape quite uncomfortably against my knee during her clumsy attempt at doing so.

"We were talking about you."

And because I'm an idiot, and also because I hate being under both her and Luke's equally as intense stares, I look behind me.