player ♚ lrh

20 - for you

Ashton was acting weird and it was pissing Luke off.

It didn't help that he was already feeling grumpy, but he couldn't help it. For once, he didn't want to be at the club, nor did he necessarily need to be. He wasn't fighting, and he trusted his best mate enough to carry out the simple task of watching over the place as best he could—being himself, that is. Trust didn't come easily to him.

Still, he promised he'd show up. 'Moral support'—as Ashton liked to call it, though Luke didn't find it nearly as endearing as the other boy did. Either way, he didn't break promises; not to Ashton, not to himself, not to anyone. So, he found himself in for a night at the club once again.

Usually, Luke wouldn't mind it much. But that's only because he usually didn't have somewhere else he'd rather be—or, better yet, someone else he'd rather be with.

It was fucking ridiculous and he knew it. There he was; surrounded in a place that settled for no less than a brutal show, and all he could think about was the way he woke up this morning. Cuddling. Fucking cuddling.

And he loved it.

He loved every second of it. He liked the way her body fit snug against his and he liked the feeling he got when he had her in his arms. It shocked him, rightfully so, because Luke just wasn't a cuddler. It was too soft and much too intimate—two things Luke simply didn't carry the time nor the patience for.

And he never craved it either. In all his 22 years of life, Luke never thought he was missing out on much. It didn't appeal to him, yet after one time with her, he was already hooked. But then again, a lot of things hadn't appealed to the fighter before he met Elise.

She'd done something to him he couldn't explain. He fought it for a while—half heartedly, but still, the effort counts—but he couldn't do it any longer. He didn't even want to.

That being said, Luke still didn't have the slightest clue what to do. It wasn't a matter of what he wanted to do—he had that part very much covered. But what he should do, now, with the events from last night stuck on a loop in his head; he wasn't quite sure.

Kissing her had seemed so easy, so plausible this morning, but he let the moment slip away. He was too caught up in her hands around his waist to go there—too scared his lips might ruin it all. Or, worse yet, ruin her.

Every time he let himself look at her lips for a moment too long, a piece of his resolve silently chipped away. Unfortunately for Luke, he did it a lot. So much so, that he almost lost it completely after this morning.

And now, Luke was pretty sure he didn't have any pieces left.

Maybe that's why he was antsy already. Maybe he gave himself just enough time to be away from her and clear his head before he could dwell on it. And maybe—just maybe—he wished he hadn't left her at all.

You'll see her after, he reminded himself, though it didn't help much. How was he supposed to see her, to sit with her innocently while she's likely wrapped up in blankets because it's undoubtedly late, when all he could think about was gripping her chin and bringing her lips to his?

There was no right answer. Luke was fucked, and he knew it.

He was also a little bit grumpy. "What the fuck do you keep looking around for?"

"Huh?" Ashton blinked. "Oh, no one, I mean, nothing."

Luke squinted at him. He was a shitty liar. "Spit it out."

Playing it off, Ashton shrugged. "I was just looking. Seeing who's here tonight."

The boy didn't really buy it, but he wasn't interested enough to figure out why his friend was acting weird in the first place. "Sure," he scoffed.