~Luke~

“What about ‘wishing you could stay’?” I suggested a few days later. Ashton and I sat in the studio, Ash seated on his box drum, an acoustic guitar in my lap. I was strumming a few chords mindlessly and proceeding to jot small notes down on the paper on the table next to me.

Ashton shrugged, thinking the lyric through in his head, “Yeah that sounds pretty good.”

I grinned at him and scribbled down the four words.

Ashton and I had arrived at the studio a few hours ago, and we had just been brainstorming song ideas and lyrics for new tunes, tweaking things here and there and getting an overall sense of what we wanted our next album to sound like. Calum and Michael were talking with management, unable to make the session today, but I didn’t mind.

“Okay, next I was thinking we have a quarter note pulse,” Ashton played the beats against the front of the box he was sitting on, nodding his head along to the sounds.

I grinned at him, liking the sound, “Yeah. I like that.”

“Or we could have each pulse divided into two eighth notes,” Ash suggested. That was where I lost him.

I shook my head, “English, Ashton.”

“Sorry,” he smiled sheepishly at me, forgetting that I played guitar—he was the drum master here, and I didn’t always catch onto the lingo he never failed to use while we wrote together.

“Let me just play it for you,” Ash concluded. I nodded, and he proceeded to make small taps on the box. I played with my lip ring, listening to the tune, contemplating.

“I kind of liked the first one, to be honest,” I admitted. Ashton made a face, “Same here—I thought this would sound better, but it’s shit.”

I laughed.

“Okay,” I said, “A lyric then? What about ‘to hold you one last time’?” Ashton nodded, but then he smirked. I looked at him, slightly confused as to what was so funny.

“What’s up?” I asked, grabbing the neck of my acoustic guitar and setting it down, the guitar leaning against my knee.

Ash just shook his head, but he was still smiling lightly, “Nothing. It’s just—I noticed something about all of your lyrics today.”

“They’re all exceptionally good?” I asked, smiling smugly. He gave me an ‘as if” look and just shook his head. “What is it then?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he told me, “They’re all referring to Ava.”

What he said caught me a bit off-guard. But it was my turn to shake my head and give him a quizzical look, “You’re clearly reading way too much into this, mate.”

“I’m not,” Ashton returned my look, staring at me evenly—he was stubborn as hell, there was no way he’d back down from a point he was trying to make of this size. I rolled my eyes, “They’re not about Aves, Ash. I’ve already told you—I’m over her.”

“Luke, if I’m honest,” Ashton told me, interlocking his fingers and leaning forward, “I don’t think you are. I mean—yeah she’s back in our lives now—I think you’re just all over the place, bro.”

“She’s not back in our lives,” I corrected him—Ava could easily walk back out just as quickly as she’d come in. She was unpredictable that way, and I wasn’t ready to trust her—to even think about liking her.

“Why not?” Ashton shot back, “She seemed genuine. I know you missed her, Lucas. For fuck’s sake, she was your girlfriend, and I get that. But you clearly still have feelings for her.”

“I don’t think so, Ash,” I told him, shrugging. He just sat back, not exactly dejectedly, just as if to show that I’d realise it sooner or later. But I wouldn’t. Because I didn’t have feelings for Ava, and she didn’t have feelings for me. It was evident that we were being civil, but I couldn’t picture anything else for us anymore.

“Happy birthday!” I yelled as I paraded through the door. Ava giggled and her jaw dropped when I handed her a large bouquet of lilies.

“Holy shit, Blondie,” she gasped, and then she tackled me in a hug, “Thanks! You didn’t have to get me flowers, dipshit.”

I just grinned at her, “I wanted to. Because you deserve to have the best fifteenth birthday in the whole wide world,” as I spoke the last three words, my voice hit a higher octave and I spread my arms teasingly.

Ava laughed and led me into the kitchen. There, her mum was standing beside the stove, a large spoon in her hand, stirring the contents of a pot.

“Luke!” Ms. Summers smiled warmly at me, “Afternoon, handsome.”

“Good afternoon,” I smiled back at her. Ava’s mum was pretty; with red hair so dark you could only see the auburn tint in the light. Ava had inherited her eyes—wide, innocent brown eyes. It was understandable how Ava’s dad had managed to fall in love with her mum.

It was the same way I’d fallen in love with Ava.

But Ava’s father wasn’t around anymore—I hated him. There were photos of him—a tall, lanky man with messy brown hair and green eyes, a bit of stubble along his jawline. Ava had simply told me that when she was six, he’d left them—simply packed up and moved to America.

He’d hurt Ava—to this day, she was still distraught about it whenever someone brought it up, and I despised him for having such an effect on her, the fact that the mere memory of him could bring her to tears. All I could think about was to kiss her better, but of course, we were best friends, and that wasn’t allowed.

“I’ve got to go to the bathroom,” I said.

Ava had grabbed a vase and was setting the bouquet of flowers into the glass container, “Alright, you know where it is.”

She shot me a small smile, something I returned, only a bit wider. I wasn’t supposed to have a crush on her, I wasn’t supposed to love her, but I did.

I loved everything about her. I loved how frustrated she got when she couldn’t understand our maths homework, the little concentrated crease that appeared between her brows. I loved that the stress would nearly bring her to tears—Ava always seemed to have an anxiety problem.

She’d even been prescribed pills once, to control her cortisol levels, and they seemed to have helped a bit.

I loved that she would plead for help, and that I’d explain everything to her—and if she still didn’t understand it after that; she would ask me to cuddle her, which I did without any complaints. We would fall back on her bed, the textbooks and pencils completely forgotten, and spend the rest of the night talking—when she was stressed, she couldn’t sleep.

I made my way through the halls of her house and entered her washroom.

I loved how she hated the small bump on her fingers from gripping a pen or pencil too hard—even though I’d tried to explain to her many times that everyone had it, she was still so self-conscious about it, claiming that she would be so embarrassed if she ever got a boyfriend and he noticed whilst they held hands.

If I was her boyfriend, I’d think every crevice, every bump and bruise on her body was perfect, only adding to her beauty. She managed to make bedhead look adorable; to make frowns look happy, if that was even possible.

I flushed the toilet and turned to the sink, rinsing off my hands.

I loved how she was so grumpy whenever she was on her period. She would cross her arms and pout whenever I told her to get up off the couch, claiming that she was ‘tired because she’d lost a lot of blood’—and I’d retort by telling her that she wasn’t some sort of operating patient.

Once I closed the taps on the sink, I looked into the mirror, trying to fix my blonde hair—it was swept to the side, off my forehead, my blue eyes bright and alert. There was a tiny sprinkle of acne along my jaw, and I sighed.

Would Ava ever go for me?

Quietly, I opened the door and padded back down the halls, turning round a corner. I paused when I heard Ava laughing with her mum from the kitchen—I loved her laugh.

“Mum, keep your voice down!” she hissed, but I could tell that she was smiling.

“I’m just saying, baby,” her mum noted, “That boy likes you. A lot.”

“He does not!” Ava countered, and I heard Ms. Summers let out a laugh, “Please. Isn’t that what you want, anyways?”

“Yeah,” Ava admitted, and my lips parted, my eyes widening.

My heart began hammering in my chest and I couldn’t stop a small, subtle smile from appearing on my face. Slowly, my brain processed what that meant, and I stood there, frozen, clenching my hands together in hopes of trying to let some excitement out.

“Can we please talk about something else?” Ava said exasperatedly.

Her mum just clucked her tongue and sighed, “Fine—nice weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

“Mum,” Ava deadpanned before letting out a laugh, in which her mother joined. I took that as a cue to walk in, “Hey Aves.”

“Blondie!” Ava’s eyes widened, “Hey! Um—thanks for the flowers, again.”

“You already said that,” I laughed, trying to play it off as though I hadn’t heard the previous conversations. Ava’s mum just watched us, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

“Do you want to go now?” I asked Ava, looking at her innocently. She nodded, relaxing when she realised that I hadn’t heard what she and her mother had been talking about—or so she thought.

“Sure,” she pursed her lips, “Let me just get my swimsuit.”

I nodded and said goodbye to Ms. Summers, who shot me an amused smile, like she knew exactly what our situation was. Ava and I walked down the hall, and I waited at her front entrance while she ran upstairs to change, pulling my phone out of my pocket, only to see a text from Calum.

Use protection.

Fuck off, I typed back, and hit send, smirking lightly.

So maybe my friends knew about my little crush. They’d purposely declined Ava’s invitation to go to the creek just to give us some time alone—they’d be coming to her party tonight, but they claimed that this was for us to ‘get to know each other a little better’—as if we weren’t best friends.

“Alright,” Ava came down a few minutes later, looking out of breath, “Ready?”

“Yeah,” I bit my lip and grinned at her, “Let’s go.”

“Luke!” Ashton snapped his fingers in front of my face. I looked at him, my lips pursed; my eyes widened harmlessly, “Hm?”

“You were thinking about her again, weren’t you?” Ashton laughed, slouching on his box drum, his dimple and bright white teeth appearing as he chuckled.

“No,” I argued, even though we both knew that I was lying.

Ashton just shook his head and rolled his eyes playfully, “Luke, you are so fucked. You know that, right?”

“I know,” I sighed, running my right hand through my hair anxiously—there was no use in denying anything, but I was just as damn confused, just as oblivious to my own feelings as a stranger would be. It was almost like Ashton knew what I was feeling better than I did myself.

“I just feel so torn, Ash,” I admitted, “When I saw her—when I actually spoke to her, it was like part of me wanted to punch a wall, and the other wanted to kiss her. I’m so mad that I can’t get my shit together.”

“I can’t say that I understand, bro,” Ashton confessed, “But I know what it feels like to be confused like that. Just—I don’t know—see where things go. I’m shit at giving advice, you know that.”

“You’re awesome at giving advice,” I scoffed.

He smiled apologetically, “I know—but I’m just as clueless. You and Ava—you guys have always been a special case. You mystify me.” His eyes got wide with the last sentence, and I just laughed.

“It’s just like—,” I began, “—a part of me wants to like her, to see where things go, but I keep telling myself that she doesn’t deserve another chance. She left us, you know? I’m just so angry at her, but at the same time, I just want to—”

“I don’t need the details,” Ashton held up his hand to cut me off, and I grinned at him.

I shook my head, “We should probably get back to writing the song.”

“Fine. Just no more sappy lyrics please,” Ash groaned and sat up straight, his posture growing slightly.

I stuck my tongue out at him, “I make no promises.”

As we continued, I could only focus on Ava. I could only remember her appearance from a few days ago, checking off the things I’d even loved about her then. I loved the way her flannel had clung slightly to her figure, acquainting me with the curves that my eyes hadn’t been met with for two years.

I loved the way she’d developed an American accent, the only lingering pieces of her old voice being heard on a few words—like ‘Blondie’. I loved the way she smiled up tentatively at me when I’d told her that I could get someone to drive her, the way she’d stood up for herself and ordered a cab nonetheless—I’d missed her stubbornness.

I just wasn’t sure if I loved her again—she’d broken my heart, and I was trying to convince myself that she didn’t deserve to be forgiven. She didn’t even look like she wanted to be forgiven, like my pardon meant nothing to her.

But then I flashed back to that day, where I’d found out that she liked me. She’d hidden it so well, the feelings swirling around under the expert façade she’d put up.

And it made me think—what if she was doing this again? There was so much more than meets the eye.

Especially with Ava Summers.

Notes

HEY GUYS! <<< a bit of Ashton Irwin for ya right there ;)

Hope you liked this chapter! I got major Luke feels, like excuse me for a moment while I go cry...

Anywho, let's keep up the comments! They make me smile! I got a new banner, as some of you have noticed! Huge thank you to @Perla1D, because it's pretty awesome :) Keep voting! Let's reach 50 votes? Please?

~Y'all are perfect~