"RORY, WE'RE NOT WAITING for you," Calum says, shaking his head as we exit the classroom, books and pencil cases in hand.
After the ruckus that Luke caused during class, I had asked Calum ever-so-kindly to wait for me after school until my detention finished to drive home, so that I wouldn't have to walk. Upon influence from Luke (AKA the bane of my existence), Calum decided that he would be an awful brother today and leave me stranded at the high school.
"Calum, please!" I groan, tugging on his arm annoyingly as we walk to our lockers, ready to finish up the day along with the rest of the seniors. "I'll do your laundry for a month!"
"That's tempting..." Calum trails off, and he gazes questioningly at Luke, who simply shakes his head. Calum turns back to me instantly and repeats the action, shaking his head firmly. "No, sorry. We have rehearsals with Michael today."
"You're so whipped," I groan, shaking my head at my brother's codependence. I let out a frustrated sigh and run a hand through my long, dark hair, trying to think of other options. "Can't you just delay rehearsals?"
"No," Calum and Luke answer simultaneously, both of their gazes snapping towards me, stern looks on their faces.
"Okay, okay," I raise my hands in defence, my brown eyes wide. Calum and Luke were both a part of a band-type-trio, in which they played at different venues across the coast and occasionally recorded an acoustic cover for YouTube. "How about you pick me up after detention's over?"
We arrive at our lockers, which are (not so) conveniently set very close together. The lockers were set in alphabetical order, so, naturally, because Calum and I were twins, our lockers sat right beside one another. Luke, having been born with a last name that also began with the letter 'H', had a locker a few spots to the left of Calum and I.
Luke and Calum share a glance, and Calum looks back at me uneasily. "I don't know..." he says, tugging his plump lower lip back into his mouth with his teeth as he thought on the topic.
"Please, Cal?" I beg, pressing my hands together in a prayer sign. I jut out my lower lip, widening my eyes and raising my brows. "Please? You can't leave me stranded at this hellhole, I'm your sister."
"Stop trying to do the puppy-dog face," Luke snaps, frowning at me as he throws his books carelessly into his locker. "It doesn't work on you."
"Shut up," I rebut weakly, my attempt at a pleading face dropping momentarily as I insult the boy.
"Well, I could pick you up afterwards," Calum says slowly, letting out an unsure sigh. "But you'd have to come to practice."
"Yes!" I cry out in a cheer, clapping my hands together. I step forward and throw my arms around my brother, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek. Calum winces, attempting to pull away, but failing. I step back and pull my bag from my locker, sliding some books into it for the homework that I would complete later that night. "Thankyou, Callie!"
Luke snickers from his locker at the nickname for my brother, as a red blush creeps up Calum's neck and taints his cheeks red.
"Yeah, Callie," Luke sneers, rustling my brother's dark curls. "You're such a good big brother!"
I roll my eyes at the sarcasm that slips easily off of Luke's tongue. I swing the door of my locker shut, twisting the lock closed and hooking my bag over my shoulder. I punch Luke in the shoulder, to which he winces and rubs the spot painfully, and wave goodbye carelessly over my shoulder.
"I'll see you at four!" I call back over my shoulder, and make my way into detention.
×××
After one hour of the horrifyingly boring act of sitting in a room in silence and completing work, I was finally permitted to leave detention and wait out the front of the school for my brother to pick me up.
It was nearly four-thirty, and I sat outside Oak High School on the dirty concrete sidewalk, waiting patiently for Calum to drive by. I check the time on my phone, groaning loudly when I realise that he's most likely forgotten about me; it wouldn't be the first time, unfortunately. With a quiet groan of annoyance, I unlock my phone and dial Calum's number, pressing the device to my ear and letting it ring.
One ring.
Two rings.
Three rings.
Four rings.
A loud, ear-piercing beep sounds, followed by my brother's overly-cheery voice, "Hi, it's Calum! I can't get to the phone right now, so leave me a message and I'll probably call you back! Bye!"
I let out a groan and call the number again, refusing to accept the fact that my brother simply won't answer, only to receive the exact same response; his voicemail. I scroll through my contact list, looking for somebody, anybody else that I can call; but there's no one. I can't call my mother, because she's in the middle of a shift at the hospital, which means that I have nobody else but Calum, who simply won't pick up.
I stand up straight, accepting my current fate of having to walk all the way home in the heat, and hook the strap of my bag over my shoulder. However, before I can head away in the direction of my house, a car rolls to a stop beside me.
At first I think that it's Calum finally coming to get me, but upon closer inspection I realise that it's not my brother at all. I squint my brown eyes in an attempt to see through the tinted windows of the car and identify the driver, when the window rolls down and reveals a smiling Ashton Irwin.
"Oh, Ashton," I step back, thoroughly surprised. What was he doing here? "Hi."
"Hi!" Ashton grins back, giggling slightly. He waves slightly, the car engine humming softly. "You look a little lost."
I let out a frustrated sigh and run a hand through my long, brown locks. "Yeah, Calum was supposed to pick me up after detention but he's not answering his stupid phone," I groan, shaking my head at my brother's stupidity despite the fact that he wasn't there to view the insult.
"Oh," Ashton pokes his head slightly out the window, his light brown locks shining golden in the sunlight. He squints his left eye as a ray of sun shoots across his vision, blinding him temporarily. "Well, do you need a ride?"
"Well, I," I internally curse myself for stumbling over my words, and let a cough before starting my sentence over. "I mean, if you're offering then that'd be great."
"Great!" Ashton responds, his smile impossibly growing. He flicks his head to the side, gesturing to the other door, his hair bouncing back luxuriously. "Hop on in."
I quickly dash around to the other side of the car and swing the door open, swiftly plopping inside onto the leather seat and dropping my bag down to sit in the legspace. I let out a puff of air, the force blowing a few strands of hair from in front of my eyes. I quickly tuck the pieces behind my ear to stop them from blocking my vision, and turn to face Ashton with a smile.
Ashton starts up the engine once again, and pulls out into the street. "So," he says, flicking the volume down on the radio. He gives me a quick sideways glance, that broad smile still plastered across his face. "Where to?"
I had two options; have Ashton drop me straight home so that I could wallow in my anger, or intrude on my brother's band practice so that I could confront him. I could have simply let the fact go and arrive home to a relaxing new episode of one of the many television shows that I had invested myself in -- but I wasn't going to.
"Do you know where Michael Clifford lives?"
×××
The car ride with Ashton consists of talking about nonsense, singing loudly (and off-key, might I add) to various All Time Low songs, and giggling radically over some awfully lame jokes that Ashton feels the need to tell.
When we finally arrive at Michael's house, I almost don't want to get out of the car. Ashton is so happy, lively and fun to be around; he's a person that you could spend hours talking to and never get bored. My mind drifts back to what Anna had said at lunch that day -- that Ashton likes me -- and I find myself wondering how much truth the statement held.
"Well," I let out a sigh, hiccuping every few seconds from laughing so hard. There is a grin plastered across my face, and I can't seem to shake it. "Thanks so much for offering to drive me; I had fun."
"Anytime," Ashton answer simply, dimples drilling into his cheeks as he smiles. His hazel eyes flick down to my lips, and my heart stops altogether; does he want to... kiss me?
"Well, it was nice seeing you," I blurt out hurriedly, pushing open the door and jumping out of the car. Ashton sits in the driver's seat, a look of pure shock and confusion on his face. "Thanks!" I call out, before I slam the door and dash to Michael's patio.
I press on the doorbell as fast as I can, glancing back at Ashton's car. The black vehicle remains still for a moment, the engine still humming softly, before Ashton pulls out of the driveway and speeds off down the street. When I turn back to the door in relief, about to pull my hand away from it, the wooden structure swings open suddenly, revealing a thoroughly annoyed-looking Luke.
"Jesus, Rory," Luke groans loudly, shaking his head, his blue eyes wide. He stands in the doorway, leaning against the door as he lectures me. "I think you broke the damn thing."
"Sorry," I apologise quickly, pushing my way past Luke and into the house, earning a groan from the boy.
Michael's house is a cute, two-storey place, with blue-painted weatherboards and a white-picket fence. Though it was only occupied by himself and his parents, Michael's house was quite spacious. He often spoke about how ridiculous it was that his parents had moved them from a small apartment in Seattle to an enormous house in California, and said that the place was too big for only the three of them.
"Yeah, that's fine," Luke rolls his eyes sarcastically as he pushes the front door shut behind him. "Just walk right in; make yourself at home."
I ignore is sarcastic comment and continue walking into the house, stopping briefly before the door to the basement. I flick my head over my shoulder quickly, an inquisitive look on my face. "Is everyone downstairs?"
"Yeah," Luke sighs, giving up on trying to be annoying (not that he had to try hard, anyway). A hand raises to his fluffy blonde hair and runs through it, ruffling the tufts messily. "I'm just getting some snacks, I'll be down in a minute."
"Whatever," I respond, not caring enough to be openly nice to the boy. I turn away from him and push open the basement stairs, making my way down to where Calum and Michael were bound to be.
Michael's basement was a thing of dreams. The spiral stairs descended to a fairly open room, with wooden walls and an array of abstract paintings skillfully created by his mother adorning the walls. A navy-blue couch laid before a flat-screen television, with an X-Box and several wired controllers hooked up to the machine. Two black speakers sat tall on either side of the television, hooked up as a home cinema sound system. On the opposite side of the room sat a microphone held by a stand, two electric guitars, one acoustic guitar and a semi-drum kit -- the thing was made up of a bass, snare, one tom, hi-hat and a pathetic excuse for a cymbal -- all of which easily hooked up to one of the many amplifiers that sat on the ground before the array of instruments.
I made my way across the room and towards the couch where Michael and Calum sat, my knuckles clenching at my sides and my expression thoroughly unimpressed. As my sandals clap against the wooden floorboards, both Michael and Calum's heads shoot up to face the sounds. As soon as they do, Calum's eyes widen and he sits forward in his seat.
"Shit Rory, I--" he begins, but I quickly cut him off.
"Forgot about me? Yeah, I know," I interrupt angrily, my brown eyes narrowed as I stare accusingly at my older brother. Although he was older, I was always able to intimidate Calum; so, when he fearfully avoids eye contact with me, I'm not surprised.
"Did you walk here?" Calum asks quietly, as if he doesn't really want to hear the answer. Luckily, it's a no.
"No, Ashton was nice enough to drive me," I say with a frustrated sigh, running a hand through my hair. I plop down onto the couch, already tired of trying to be mad at Calum; it was too much effort to stay mad at the boy anyway.
"Ashton Irwin?" Calum sits forward, his brown eyes wide in shock -- as if his sister couldn't possibly have interacted with a member of the opposite sex.
"No, the other Ashton," I roll my eyes, sarcasm dripping easily off my tongue. "Yes, Ashton Irwin; why? Do you have a problem with that?"
"I don't know, I think you should stay away from him," Calum says uneasily, gnawing nervously on the corner of his lower lip. His brows are furrowed as he thinks deeply, the skin around them folding over with wrinkles. "He's kind of... bad news."
"How so?" I ask curiously, leaning forward slightly. Ashton had always seemed like the sweetest guy in the world to me, so I found it hard to believe that he could be any sort of 'bad news'.
Calum eyes me for a moment, as if weighing up whether or not he should spill his information, before shaking his head and taking a deep breath. "He's just a player, that's all."
I scoff and settle back against the couch, rolling my eyes. "I think I can handle that, Cal."
"If you say so."