30 | "you're talking to me now?"
By the time everyone is ready to go, I'm beyond irritated. For the entire past hour, all they've done was boss me around and force me to clean up after them, and if being completely honest, I'm pretty sure this is the last time I'm ever inviting them over.
Leaning against my door frame, I watch as everyone tugs back on their shoes. Michael looks up at me from where he's sitting hunched over on the swing, his leg pulled up to his chest; fingers working to lace his strings, "So, I gotta say. Your mom? She's kind of a babe."
"Michael shut up, okay?" I huff, rolling my eyes, "The mom jokes are starting to become slightly annoying."
He laughs, and shrugs before pulling his pants leg down over his high-top and standing up. "Oh, relax Annie. It was just a joke."
"Yeah, and for the past hour that's all I've been hearing from you. Jokes." He ruffles his hair and puts on his hat, and I see his tattoo again. This time I don't stop myself, "What does that even mean?"
"What?"
I point, "Your tattoo, right there. Yeah, what is that?"
Michael turns his green eyes to it, and smirks before looking up at me, "A ninja blade."
I tilt my head, staring at it, "Really?"
"Yeah, I went through a phase in my life where I really liked ninjas, and I wanted to be one so bad. This tattoo is as close as I got though," he explains, shrugging.
"Hm, that's pretty cool," I admit, resting back against the door. "So much dedication."
He grins, "You think?"
I nod.
"Well, what if I told you that that was yet another joke?" He cocks his head to side, smirks, then he bursts into laughter and hops down the steps, "Come on guys, let's go."
Wow. And to think that earlier while in the pool, I actually thought Michael wasn't as mean as I set him out to be. Taylor jumps up and fixes her fedora on her head, before interlocking their arms and heading down the walkway.
"No, thanks?" I mumble to myself.
Ashton stands up next, Chelsea with him and he motions for her to give him a second before walking up to me. His hair is dry now, and curls hang around his face. Reaching out, he hesitantly takes my hand, "Are you alright?"
The palm of his hands are smooth, his fingertips calloused and when I look down I notice that he has two yellow band-aids wrapped around his ring and pointer finger; I realize, Ashton has drummer hands.
I let him weave his fingers through mine, and I sigh, nodding, "Yep, just tired."
"Or, just tired of us?" When I look up, there's a soft smile on his face and I know he's just teasing. So, I roll my eyes playfully.
"You think?"
Ashton laughs, and then glances back over his shoulder at his friends, before turning back to me, "Next time we hangout, it'll be at my house. Whatever you want, on me."
Raising an eyebrow, I say, "Are you offering me slave services?"
He nods, "For an entire day. Just to you know, say thanks."
After a minute, I shrug, "Alright, deal. Next week, and you'd better have your moms brownies."
He smiles, backing up towards the stairs again. But before he can start to walk down, I have to ask, "Ashton, hey. Um, what does Michael's tattoo really mean?"
He turns, and rolls his eyes jokingly, "It's the Final Fantasy symbol."
I raise an eyebrow; confused.
"It's a video game," Ashton clarifies, "Michael's kind of a video game fanatic."
"Oh, um, I guess I can see that."
"Yeah? Well -- what can you see in me?" His lips twitch into a broad smile, and he nears me again. I pretend like I don't hear Chelsea groaning behind him.
Tilting my head, I say, "You're a drummer."
"Well, I know that you already knew that. Tell me something else."
Immediately, I start to rack my mind. Ashton is definitely cute, and he has this crazy amazing smile that I love, with the most cheerful personality. But, I mean, that's all I really know about him. I need to buy myself some time, so smiling, I gently bite down on my lip, the way Luke does, and I say, "Why don't I tell you next week?"
I mentally cross my fingers, hoping it'll work. I mean, Luke's lip bite will make a girl do almost anything, but it's no telling that mine will.
Fortunately, Ashton's grin tells all and I know I'm in the safe zone.
"Alright," he nods and then he steps forward and grips my chin before lifting and turning my head to the side; kissing my cheek, once then twice, "Next week, my place. See ya, Annie."
"Bye." I smile, trying to keep my composure; flushing. Ashton turns to go, his arm draping over Chelsea's once again.
I turn to head back inside, but not before hearing her mutter, "Ew, you like her?", and him laughing and saying back, "Yeah, so what?"
Grinning, I close the door.
---
"Mom, I'm not cleaning this entire closet. No, no way, that's not fair." It's been almost two hours since Ashton plus four left, and just when I thought that I might actually escape my mother I ended up being called downstairs.
We're standing in the hallway, peering into the closet and I swear if I had seen this before the rest of Andrew's house, I would've thought I was actually experiencing a live episode of Hoarders on TLC. There's literally everything from board games to snowsuits to clothes that look like they could've once belonged to a twelve year old, Luke, and in complete honesty I'm horrified.
Leaning forward, I grab a t-shirt between my thumb and my index and hold it up. It's a Marvel t-shirt, incredibly small and I roll my eyes, "This should've been thrown away ages ago. Who knows what else is lurking around in here."
At the thought, I drop the shirt and wipe my hand on my sweatpants.
My mom sighs, and lifts her glasses up on her head, "Which is exactly why you're cleaning it out. Clothes go in these boxes and set aside for Goodwill, and board games over there. Coats and snowsuits go in these plastic bags. You know what to do, right? Use the vacuum to take the air out so it'll shrink."
Her head tilts to side, thinking, "There was something else ... Oh, yeah and Andrew said if you find a purple marble colored bowling ball, set it aside. I don't know, he says it's a keepsake from the 80s."
I blink at her, irritated, "Why do I have to do this? None of this is mine!"
"Anastasia, I seriously don't want to have this fight with you. You did something wrong, y-"
"I invited some friends over, what's the big deal!" I practically shout, almost on the verge of screaming at her. Lowering my voice, I try to remain calm. Which is impossible, but nevertheless, "I bet if Luke had friends over it would no problem."
She stares at me, completely unbothered. "Clean it up, and then clean the kitchen, and then when you're done you're gonna help get the wedding invitations together. And not because I'm punishing you, but because you're my maid of honor."
"Well, if that's the case I don't want to be you're maid of honor anymore. I quit." I glare at her, "You hear that, Mom? I quit."
"Stop being dramatic and hurry and get started," she looks at the closet and scrunches her face up, "When you're done put moth balls in the corners, and then spray some air freshener."
And with that, she swipes hair behind her ear and nods before turning and walking down the hallway towards the living room. I can't help myself, "Those jeans look gross on you!"
"I love you too, Annie doll. Be done by dinner."
--
I think I sit in the hallway for at least thirty minutes, drawing shapes on the inside of my yoga pant clad thigh, before deciding that I should probably get started. I know my mom, and she'll literally make me stay here all night until I actually finish.
So, with that I grab a garbage bag and get to work.
---
Half an hour later, I'm onto my third garbage bag and I mean it when I say it, I officially hate the Hemmings. I mean, honestly, who the hell keeps all this stuff? I swear there's everything under the blue moon in here.
I bet, if I looked hard enough I could probably find everyone and everything that ever mysteriously disappeared in the Bermuda Triangle. Hell -- Houdini is probably in here somewhere, waiting to greet me personally.
Annoyed, I stand on my tip toes and reach up on the shelf to pull down another stack of books. Only, it's stuck and after another tug, fed up I snatch it. And it does come down, but unfortunately with everything else on the top shelf.
"Ah!" I scream, as blankets and toys and books topple down over my head. Something hard and heavy hits me in the shoulder, and I hiss in pain before stumbling back out into the hallway.
"For fucks sake," I groan, yanking down my shirt to see the damage. It's not bleeding or anything, just red and I slide down onto the floor; kicking a pair of roller skates out of my way.
"Hey, watch it. I won my year five talent show with those things."
I know who it is before I even look up, and I roll my eyes before grumbling, "Did you?"
Luke nods, and takes a sip from a cup he's holding. "Yeah, me and a friend. We skated to this song, by um -- who was it?" He tilts his head to the side, "Aw shit, who was it?" With a shrug, Luke shakes his head, "I forgot. I'll ask him, he'll know."
I want to tell him, that I could honestly care less but I don't. I look away from him, leaning my head back against the wall, "So you're talking to me now?"
"Nope," then he walks over to the closet and looks in, "Doing this all by yourself, huh? That's gonna take forever, do you need help?"
"Yes," I admit, sighing. "Please, that would be great."
Luke nods, and takes another sip from his cup. I watch as he pulls his phone from his jean pocket, turning on the screen and nodding, "It's only eight now, so maybe if you call your friend Ashely, he can get here in enough time to help you out. Yeah, that way he won't have to ride his ride his bike home in the dark, alone. Wouldn't want anything crazy to happen to the poor kid. I mean, especially since he's your boyfriend, now."
I huff, irritated. "Get out of my face, Luke."
"Gladly," he smiles. Then before he starts down the hall, if stops and says, "And um, if you happen to find these two pink speakers, put them aside, will you? I threw them in there a long time ago when I had a girl over for a project. It was sorta embarrassing back then, but I kinda want them back now."
"Whatever."
Then without another word, he leaves me alone.
---
Much later that night, after I've literally cleaned the entire closet, sorted and boxed clothes for Goodwill, alphabetized Andrew's bored game collection and licked and stamped every single wedding invitation for my mom, I spot Luke in the driveway, playing basketball by himself while I'm taking out the garbage.
He's wearing a black jacket, that's unzipped and underneath it he's shirtless; there's no way I can pass up an opportunity to stop at the top of the stairs for a minute to watch him.
Basketball looks almost as if it's second nature to Luke, from the way he effortlessly swipes it between his long legs; shooting and making it in the basket. Luke turns around to gather the ball, and immediately our eyes lock. I quickly glance away from him, embarrassingly flushing before snatching the garbage bags and hauling them down the steps.
My shoulder still hurts, badly, and I wince as I drag them downstairs. Luke doesn't say anything to me as I throw them out, probably because according to him, he's still not talking to me. Even so, I can feel him watching me when I pull the cans to the front of the driveway. When I'm all done, I ignore him, heading back up the walkway.
"What are you doing?" Luke mutters, dribbling a ball in his hand, "It's my job to take out the garbage."
"Who cares?" I sigh. I'm tired, and I just want to take a shower and lay down. I learned my lesson, and I definitely not be inviting anyone over without my moms consent.
It's cooled down a bit since earlier, and I roll my neck to the side. The cool, summer wind blows through my hair and I sigh. I don't want to go in just yet.
Sitting down on the porch stairs, I fold my legs up underneath me and pull my sleeves of shirt down over my hand. Luke rolls his blue eyes at me and then jumps up, shooting the basketball into the net. He runs to get it, glancing at me. "What now? Do you need something?"
"Wow" I say, "I can't just sit here and watch?"
"No, you're distracting me." He shoots the ball again, and this time it bounces off the backboard. "See?"
"You did that on purpose," I stare at him, blankly. "I seriously don't get why you're being so mean to me."
With an annoyed roll of his eyes, Luke tucks the ball under his arm and picks up a water bottle from the side before walking over to me. He sits down, on the stair below me, one knee up and his other stretched out. He tosses the ball to me, and uncaps his bottle before taking a long drink.
I clutch the ball in my lap and I watch as his Adam's apple bobs underneath his pale skin, when he swallows. Luke doesn't stop until he's finished the entire thing and I look away just as he swipes his tongue over his lips.
Sighing, he says, "So, did you have fun babysitting?"
"What?" I mumble.
"Earlier. I could hear you all the way in my room, screaming at them to stop touching stuff every five minutes. It was funny for the first ten minutes, listening to you whine," he looks up at me, nodding, "But then after a while I can't lie and say that I didn't envision myself going down there and kicking every single one them the fuck out."
"Oh, that." I shrug, moving a strand of hair from my eyes. It's no point in lying, "Not really, no."
"Sounds unfortunate." Luke whispers, his teeth capturing his lip ring in a way that makes it impossible to think. Fingers drum themselves against his knee, and he looks up at me, shrugging. "You could've just hung out with me, instead of running off on me."
Blue eyes stare sadly at me, and I realize that that's why he's been acting so moody; because I left him to hang out with Ashton.
"I um, I--I didn't realize I did that," I whisper, meaning it. "I'm sorry."
"Whatever, it's cool." He leans his head back against the railing and stares up at me with those soft blue eyes.
I stare back down at him, neither of us saying anything and after a long, long, minute I look down at me lap. I can't sit there any longer, without feeling like I might die.
"I bet I'm better than you." Clutching the ball between both hands, I push Luke's leg off the stair and stand up. "Come on, let's play."
Luke doesn't say anything, and after a minute or two of silence, he caves and follows me back over to the driveway. He puts his hands on his knees, and looks up at me through long, blonde eyelashes. "I doubt it, let's see what you got."
I dribble the ball, smirking. Little does Luke know, I'm actually pretty good at basketball. With no siblings or friends in the year eight, joining an after school sports club was the only thing keeping me from succumbing to my mother's pleads for us to take a cake decorating class at the YMCA.
Bending down a bit, I swipe the ball between my legs before watching as a grin threatens to spread across Luke's pink lips. I quickly dodge around him and then bend my legs before slightly jumping up to shoot the ball into the net. It makes a quiet swoosh as it goes in, and I turn to Luke, "What I tell you?"
He runs both his hands through his hair, and then shrugs, "Not impressed." Grabbing the ball, Luke throws it to me, and leans over; slightly lifting the bottom of his shorts over his knees, "Go again."
I catch the ball, dribble it twice, and then throw it at him. "Let's start a game."
Luke nods, dribbles the ball, and throws it back at me. "Alright, one on one. Loser does whatever winner wants. Got it?"
"Got it."
---
AN -
This is not the end of this scene, granted, here lies yet another filler. It's officially Christmas Eve, and also Louis Tomlinson's birthday. Happy birthday, love. Let us all rejoice.
Don't be a silent reader, vote and comment lovelies. I'm gonna post again tonight or sometime tomorrow just to get it out of the way so I won't have to on Christmas day.
And with that being said, thank you all for reading! We're nearly at 1M reads!!! I could die of happiness right now.