~Luke~

“Knock, knock,” I whispered as I peered through the crack in Ava’s door. She lay on her bed, the covers pulled up to her chin, her hair a mess, all stringy and frizzy. Her nose was red and her eyes were watery, and I noticed a box of tissues next to her.

“Hi,” she mumbled, her voice extremely clouded. I grinned at her, “You sound horrible.”

“I feel horrible,” she answered, sighing and sinking even further down onto the bed.

I chuckled lightly and ran a hand through my hair, “Must’ve been the skinny dipping. I told you to put on a towel after.”

“Shut up,” she waved me away, but I just came closer, eventually sitting on the bed beside her. She covered up her face, “No, I’ll get you sick too.”

“I don’t care, Aves.”

“Go away Blondie.”

“You and I both know that that’s not going to happen.”

Ava sighed, lowering her hands, and pouted at me. I just pulled off my blue flannel, exposing my white t-shirt underneath, and crawled over to where she laid, the heavy blankets covering her body. I spread out my legs beside her and sighed lightly, extending my left arm and wrapping it around her shoulders. She leaned into me, her head now lying in the crook of my arm and my chest.

“You’re boiling,” I noted, gazing down at her. She shrugged, “I’m so fucking cold.”

I laughed at her use of the curse word and leaned down, pecking her forehead lightly. She hummed and nuzzled her face into my chest, one of her arms wrapping around my midsection.

“Thank you for coming,” she murmured.

I ran my fingers through her hair, finding the action soothing to the both of us, “No problem. You needed me—calculus can wait.”

“Jesus, Luke,” her head snapped up so quickly that it almost hit me in the nose, “You’re skipping calculus? You must really love me.”

I chuckled and she grinned, her nose still pink, but her eyes seemed a bit more alive now, brighter. I loved knowing that I was the reason for that glitter in her eyes, the reason for her laugh.

I wished I could tell her that I actually did love her. That I lived to see her almost every day. Calum, Mikey and Ash would tease me, tell me to quit being a pussy and just get it out there. They kept reassuring me that she would say it back, telling me that she was crazy about me—in between joking remarks and giggles.

But I was me, and Ava was Ava—completely, utterly perfect Ava.

And while we had some YouTube fans that may’ve disagreed with the fact that I was ugly as shit, nothing could change my views.

“You know it,” I agreed, and her cheeks flushed a light shade of pink. I smiled lightly, “I love how I’m the only one who can make you blush.”

In response, the rose-colour on her face darkened, and she brought her hands up to bury her face in her palms, “You need to shut up, Blondie. You’re embarrassing me.”

“Wouldn’t be a first,” I replied coolly, and she laughed, finally prying her hands away from her face and acquainting me with her lovely smile, her bright white teeth and her happy eyes, despite the state of her condition.

“Why are we dating?” she questioned teasingly. In response I scoffed, pretending to be offended, and flipped us over so that my knees were straddling her midsection.

I placed my hands on the pillow on either side of her head and she looked up at me incredulously, “Luke, my mum—”

“—is at work,” I finished off, smiling wryly at her, “You and I both know it.”

“You’ll get sick,” she whispered as a last resort, and I laughed at the pathetic excuse before leaning down and capturing her lips in a soft, meaningful kiss. She eventually sighed against my mouth and melted into me, folding under the feeling.

“How did I get so lucky?” I wondered as I pulled back, looking at her warmly.

A laugh fell past her lips, “I was just gutsy enough to introduce myself at the bus stop.”

“I guess so,” I agreed, nodding and reminiscing that day with a painfully accurate clarity, even though it had been five years ago.

I couldn’t describe how grateful I was to have met this girl, the one who had started out as an acquaintance and had quickly moulded into a best friend, transforming then into my girlfriend, whom my entire world revolved around. I could see myself five years in the future with Ava, sharing an apartment, cooking dinner together, passionate sex on every surface—the bed, the couch, the counter, the kitchen table—and I wanted it all.

Don’t get a boner Luke. Don’t you dare get turned on right now!

Shit, I was doing it again.

I groaned as I rolled off of Ava and we occupied our previous position, her head laying on my chest as I brushed her hair away, my fingers running along her scalp soothingly. She hummed appreciatively and pulled up my t-shirt in the slightest, slipping her fingers under and running her warm digits along my abdomen. I closed my eyes.

Suddenly Ava gasped and tensed. My eyes snapped open, afraid that something was wrong.

“Oh my god,” she hissed, sitting up straight and turning to me, “I forgot to tell you. I sent my application in to Beeline.”

“Seriously?” I asked her, breaking into a wide smile. She nodded, imitating me, and I wrapped my arms around her again, pulling her in for a hug, “Aves, that’s great! You’re going to get in, I know it.”

“Thank you,” she laughed; the sound of a tinkling bell. She buried her face into my neck and inhaled deeply, “Mm, you smell good today. Like cinnamon and Old Spice.”

“Cinnamon is a spice,” I joked, which earned me a light, half-hearted swat to my shoulder, her head never leaving the small burrow she’d created in my neck.

I sniffed her hair dramatically, “You smell like lavender. I like lavender.”

I could feel her grin, and she began to pepper small kisses along my collarbones, “I like you.”

“That’s a relief,” I feigned blowing out a sigh, and she just laughed silently. I grinned, loving everything about her. My right hand was on her back, drawing imaginary doodles, and my left hand was tucking her hair behind her ear. Ava let out a small breath of air.

“You’re the best boyfriend in the world, Blondie,” she told me, picking her head up and out of the crook of my throat, “And as cheesy as it sounds, I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

“Luke!” someone tapped the glass pane in front of me. I blinked quickly, looking up to see our recording producer, John. He was staring at me, and I couldn’t decide whether his expression reflected amusement or annoyance.

I gazed at him blankly, and he picked up the microphone next to him, speaking into it, “You missed your cue!”

I then realised that the rest of my bandmates were looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to come back down to Earth. I sighed, rubbing my eyes with my left hand, taking it off of the acoustic guitar currently nestled in my lap.

“Fuck, sorry guys,” I apologised, “I’m all over the place today.”

“No worries,” Ashton spoke up from beside me, and I looked down at him, only to see that he was sitting on his box drum, his knees spread apart and his eyes staring intensely at me, like he knew exactly what had distracted me. I dropped my gaze quickly.

“Let’s try this again,” Michael suggested, balancing his own acoustic guitar on his lap. He gripped the neck of the instrument, his fingers plucking loosely at the strings and emitting a jumbled, broken melody. I nodded, hoping to stray away from my embarrassment.

“Alright,” John sounded skeptical though, and eyed me, almost as though he was asking me if I’d be able to continue.

I gave the smallest, most curt nod possible, and John sat back down in his chair, adjusting a few knobs on the soundboard and speaking into his microphone, “Luke, Michael, you guys play the melody first. Then you’re finished. Calum, you’ll start with the bass chords after.”

“Sure thing,” Calum chirped, flashing him a smile. I couldn’t help but to watch my mate in awe, amazed at how he could be so cheerful towards other people, but how he would constantly manage to shut Ava out and be a rude asshole.

But she deserves it.

No she doesn’t.

As much as I wish it were true, I could see that Ava was really trying to get close to us again. I didn’t know why—maybe she’d had a change of heart, maybe she’d missed us. I definitely knew that we’d all been missing her—even Calum.

But I didn’t want to be missing her. I shouldn’t have been missing her—she’d left me, her own decision, and I’d tried convincing myself that I was fine, that I’d blocked her out for the most part. But it was hard to do that when two of my bandmates were now getting all chummy with her again, and when I saw her every few days.

The situation at the club flashed in my mind a few nights ago. She’d looked completely broken when she’d perceived me making out with the raven-haired girl. And my heart had been wrenched out of my chest at the sight of her puffy cheeks, red nose, and wet eyes.

I was such a fucking idiot.

I was an idiot for feeling bad, an idiot for letting the guilt eat at me, an idiot for running after her, apologising to the girl and sprinting away before she could say anything else. I was an idiot for letting her grab my wrist and see how much of an effect her absence had really had on me.

I was an idiot for wanting—wishing—that I could’ve kissed her right then and there, wiped away her tears and brought her back to our hotel room. What the hell was wrong with me? Why did I feel these cravings when I knew that she didn’t want me that way? She’d left me. I should’ve told her that I was done with her as soon as she’d traipsed back into my life.

But I hadn’t, and now, I had been sucked too far in to pull out, to do anything about the fact that all I wanted to do when I saw her was scream at her and fuck the living daylights out of her at the same time.

“Lucas, c’mon,” Michael groaned as I missed my cue yet again.

I swore under my breath, “Sorry, sorry. I’m ready, I promise.”

Looking out through the glass pane, I saw John roll his eyes lightly but press a button nonetheless. He held up three fingers and then began to count down. I readied my fingers on the chords of my guitar and glanced at the notes in front of me.

Once our cue arrived, Michael and I strummed for a solid minute before John sliced his hand through the air and pressed another button simultaneously, alerting us to stop.

My shoulders dropped from their hunched position—I hadn’t even realised I’d been tensed up.

John blew out what looked to be a sigh before picking up his microphone and speaking into it yet again, “Good. Luke and Michael, take a break. Cal, let’s work on that bass.”

“I’m all about that bass,” Calum teased, causing me to crack a smile, Ashton to giggle, and Michael to shake his head at the horrible joke. Even John looked to be smirking slightly, and he shooed Mikey and I away.

I slid off my stool and set my guitar against the wall.

“Let’s go Luke,” Michael said, throwing and arm around my shoulder as we exited the recording booth. I shot him a weak smile as we passed John, who mumbled something about calling if he needed us. Michael and I both walked out the room and down the hall, turning right into a smaller room with a vending machine and a minifridge, a couch and a circular table with five chairs.

Mikey walked over to the fridge and opened it, while I walked over to the dark green couch and fell onto it. Michael pulled out two water bottles and tossed me one.

We both unscrewed the caps simultaneously as he walked over to me and sat down beside me, looking at me expectantly. “Ava’s on your mind?”

“How’d you know?” I answered dryly, not even bothering to deny it anymore.

I was done with denying the fact that this girl had my head spinning and my heart racing whenever I was in a short vicinity of her. I was done with pretending that being around her didn’t affect me anymore, because anyone with eyes could see that it did. I wish I could’ve been done with the millions of emotions swirling through me whenever I saw her, but nothing was ever that easy.

“Luke,” Mikey sighed, running a hand through his newly dyed blue hair. It was odd seeing him with a new colour—I’d grown accustomed to his bright, flaming fringe.

“Gordon,” I imitated him, and he just smirked, rolling his eyes. I hoped that it would be enough to derive from the topic, but of course not—this was Michael we were talking about.

“She’s fucking you up, isn’t she?” he guessed.

How was he so damn good at this? In response, I merely shrugged, but that was just as powerful as a nod. I took another swig of my water, letting the refreshing cool substance run down my throat and relishing in the cold sensation now mingling in my chest.

“Of course she is,” I replied hollowly. Mikey turned to his left, facing me. I shot him a sideways glance, not bothering to return the action and give him my full attention.

“Talk,” my friend demanded.

And I did.

I talked until I literally ran out of breath, until I was blue in the face, until I had to repeatedly take large gulps of water to soothe my dry and itchy throat. I talked until I was tired and my shoulders were sagging with every word emerging past my lips. I hated this—I hated being so powerless over my own emotions, I hated how she could influence me with a snap of her fingers.

I wanted to hate Ava Summers. I wanted to be able to say that I was over her. I wanted to be able to not give a shit about her, to let her do whatever the fuck she wanted without feeling something.

But I couldn’t. Because I was me.

And Ava was Ava—completely, utterly perfect Ava.

Notes

First, let me apologise for the long wait. I had a bit of writer's block, so I hope this chapter wasn't too bad. Also, school's kicking my ass, and it's 9 p.m., and I still have homework. I literally typed this entire chapter up right now, because I wanted to give you guys something.

Please VOTE, COMMENT, and SUBSCRIBE. I love the comments, and I love you. You guys are the best readers ever, and I love how far we've gotten with this story.

~Love you, just thought I'd let you know~