the hating game ; lrh

twenty-five

I let out a groan at the mention of my brother. "Yes, definitely." As much as I love him, I was beyond sick of having my every move watched by Calum Hood.

"Alright," Luke shifts the car into reverse and twists his body around to see out the rear window, his hand coming to rest on the back of my seat so as to stabilise himself. "Santa Cruz here we come."

—

An hour or so later and we're sitting up in the back of Luke's car, surrounded by blankets, pillows, snacks and some Spanish papers. The trunk door is wide open, facing the beach and allowing the soft breeze to flow into the car.

Luke throws what feels like the millionth MnM across the confined space in the hopes that I will catch it in my mouth, but once again, despite moving my head around like a madman trying to guess where his shocking throw will land, it misses and rolls out of the car and onto the gravel parking lot.

"God, you suck at this, Rory," Luke groans with a playful smile on his face.

"What do you mean!?" I protest with a loud laugh, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction. "Your throws were terrible! I don't know how you made it onto the basketball team."

Luke feigns offence, his hand coming up to clutch his chest as part of the act. "How could you? Basketball is my pride and joy," he lets out a fake sob, pretending to cry into his hands.

I raise my hands to feign defence. "All I'm saying is don't quit your day job," I advise him jokingly, unable to hold in the laugh that escapes my lips.

Luke laughs loudly, but reaches across the trunk to tackle me into an aggressive embrace. I squeal and attempt to pry his hands from my body, though I don't really want them to go, and his long fingers begin tickling me as punishment for my comment.

"Stop!" I cackle, unable to control my laughter.

Luke only continues his tickle assault, his strength far overpowering mine. "Say you're sorry!"

I shake my head in denial and he continues tickling me. After a moment, however, I let out a loud squeal. "Fine, fine! I'm sorry!"

Luke's hands unravel themselves from my body, moving to sit in his lap, and I find myself feeling quite bare without them. "Good," he says, a cheeky smile adorning his face.

I glance across at him, feeling somewhat cheeky. "I mean," I begin, letting out a sigh. "It's not like it's untrue..."

Without another word, Luke turns to me and picks up his assault right where it left off. My body jerks and I erupt in a fit of laughter, trying to escape his touch yet craving it all at once.

After a few moments I decide I cannot bear it any further, and I cry out, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Luke ceases his tickling, though doesn't remove his hands, simply casting me a wary glance. "Are you sure?" He asks, cocking a brow at me.

"I'm sure," I promise him, unable to tear the smile from my lips. "I swear."

"Okay," Luke agrees, his tone feigning wariness, though he unravels his hands from my body. I miss his touch for a moment, but before I can complain he quickly wraps his arms around my body, allowing me to rest against his propped-up chest.