~Ava~

“I’m just going to change really quickly,” I threw my thumb over my shoulder as I looked back at Luke. He was removing his dark Converse, and he looked up at me, nodding curtly. I studied him for a moment.

He wore a plain black tank top—which seemed to make his shoulders look even broader—along with his black skinny jeans. His maroon snapback was seated backwards on his head, the smallest tuft of soft blonde hair peeking out of the front. He’d replaced his constant lip ring with a simple black stud—which looked just as good. A silver chain hung from his neck, and he towered over me; as usual.

“Sure,” he said simply, and I chewed on my bottom lip, trying in vain to tear my gaze away from him. He stood back up straightly, dropping his Converse onto the floor of my entrance hall, his blue eyes bright and piercing.

“Okay,” I murmured before whipping around on my heel. I jogged down the hall and came to the door that led off into my bedroom, and I pushed through.

My room was nothing too special. Light green walls and a white bedspread, matching the white furniture. In the corner was a light desk, equipped with a cushiony chair, where I spent most of my time brainstorming.

I walked over to my tall dresser and opened the drawer, pulling out a baggy t-shirt and a light blue flannel. I quickly coated the space under my arms with deodorant and even spritzed a bit of perfume, not wanting to smell as though I’d just emerged from the sewers. As bottoms, I picked out a pair of tight black cotton shorts, pulling them on hastily.

My hair was still messy, but this was Luke—and even though we’d spent the last two years apart, I knew that it wasn’t required for me to look my best around him; no matter how much I may’ve wanted to.

I walked back into the hall, my face free of any makeup, and traipsed into my lounge, taking a breath, ready to confront the boy I’d been so wound up about.

I smiled lightly as I saw him sitting down on one of the stools at the bar of my plain countertop. His hands were folded in his lap as he stared down at them meaninglessly, his feet pushing off the ground and spinning the stool slightly. He blew out a breath, and I cleared my throat.

“Having fun?” I asked, unable to fight a smirk. He looked up at me with pursed lips, but when he saw my teasing expression, he chuckled lowly, “Loads.”

“Mhm,” I hummed and I walked over to where he was, but instead I situated myself on the other side of the counter, wanting to busy myself with something, “Do you want something to eat?”

In all honesty, I was trying to avoid conversation. I knew that things would be awkward. And after what had just happened in the elevator, I knew that we were nearing a whole new level of uncertainty. I hadn’t meant to grab his hand, or to stare into his eyes for as long as I had.

It had just…happened.

And then I’d had to go ahead and be a complete fucktard by practically running away from him—it was like the part of my brain responsible for common sense had finally snapped back into action after a long season of hibernation. I had a job to do. I was lying to Luke. Flirting subtly with him and having mixed feelings would only result in unnecessary drama, and I couldn’t afford that.

But I hated lying to him. I hated it so damn much. I was a horrible liar—and I was shocked that he hadn’t been able to see through the façade I’d been putting up for the past several weeks. I was impressed with myself, but at the same time, I was absolutely horrified at my cruelty and brutality.

These were real people with real emotions.

They’d begun to trust me again, to let me into their inner circle, and I was going to break that trust. I was going to hurt them—I could only hope that they never found out, or at least, by the time they did, I’d be long gone, out of their lives forever. This was physically exhausting—I couldn’t handle the guilt.

“Could I have a banana?” Luke ventured shyly, and I just grinned widely, pulling my head out of the cupboard to laugh at him. He returned it, and I opened my average-sized fridge, reaching in.

I finally pulled out a banana and tossed it at him, “Catch.”

“Oh no,” Luke mumbled in that voice he always used whenever he was trying to mimic an American accent. I laughed as the banana slipped through his fingers and his arms shot out, trying to catch it. He ended up in some odd position, clutching the yellow fruit to his chest while his arms crossed uncomfortably and his shoulders hunched, and I giggled.

“Still no coordination, I see?” I joked. His eyes widened and he shook his head vigorously, making me smile.

And then things turned awkward.

“Is that my shirt?” Luke blurted suddenly, setting his fruit down. I paused, looking down, a bit confused as to what he was referring to. And then I noticed him staring at the blue flannel draped over my shoulders.

I fingered the hem of the worn-out material, realising that—indeed—it was his flannel from three years ago; he’d gotten it when he was sixteen, but he’d never been able to wear it out, because as soon as he’d snuck into my room, I’d taken it from him and I’d never given it back. I almost smiled at the memory before realising that I wasn’t alone.

“Oh,” I said dumbly before cursing myself mentally, “Uh—yeah, I guess it is. I never really noticed.” I looked up at him, only to find that he was wearing an expression of pure shock.

Suddenly I felt extremely self-conscious. I grabbed the collar of the blue flannel, beginning to pull it off hastily, “Sorry—I’ll take it off; it’s no big—”

“No,” Luke cut me off, his right hand coming up to cross over his body; his fingers played with the thick black strap of his tank top resting on his left shoulder, “You can leave it on. You’ve always looked better in it anyways.”

He chuckled lightly at the end of his statement. He looked so awkward, but I felt even more uncomfortable.

“Oh, okay,” I said, staring down at the ground.

“Huh,” Luke simply replied with, and I looked up at him, nibbling on my bottom lip nervously. I walked over to the counter and put my palms on the surface, using it as leverage to hoist myself up. I sat on the counter delicately, my short legs dangling off, contrasting greatly to Luke’s lanky, jean-clad legs.

“Eat your banana,” I simply said, gesturing with my chin to the boy in front of me. I slid the fruit towards him and he chuckled, “I can still hear a bit of your old voice when you say that.”

“What?” I asked, “Banana?”

“Yeah,” he nodded sheepishly, his left hand coming up to scratch at the stubble tinting his jawline. I found the gesture extremely charming for no reason and all, and I scolded myself immediately. I wasn’t supposed to be thinking that, yet I did. It had become second nature to drink in every little thing Luke did.

“Banana,” I repeated, smiling at him.

“Curly fries,” he shot back in his best American accent.

My jaw went slack and my eyes widened, and before I knew it I was clutching my stomach in laughter. He giggled along with me, and I rubbed my face with my hands. It suddenly felt very odd to be so friendly with him after all we’d done for the past month had been ignoring one another.

“This is weird right?” I questioned once I’d calmed down, “You think so too?”

“It’s fucking insane,” Luke agreed, and I smiled at him.

I sighed as he finally peeled his banana and took a bite. I watched him chew with rapt attention, watching how the muscles in his jaw flexed and how his jugular jumped when he swallowed—it was attractive.

What the fucking fuck, Ava?

“Do you remember—?” I began, smiling fondly at the memory, “When we were fifteen, you tried to force-feed yourself three bananas all at once? And then your mum walked in and started ranting about how you were going to choke yourself?”

Luke’s eyes lit up as he reminisced exactly what I was going on about. He swallowed another bite of his fruit before clearing his throat, laughing: “I remember that! I tried so hard to impress you with that. It was stupid,” he added at the end, shaking his head and chuckling at his former self.

“You were trying to impress me?” I asked; my brow furrowed as the second phrase processed through my mind. This was the first I’d ever heard of something like this.

Luke stared at me as though I was dumb, “Uh, yeah. Everything I did back then was—it was to impress you.” He chuckled embarrassedly and I soon realised that he was blushing fiercely. I smiled down at him gently, liking the way that we were talking and being civil. I enjoyed Luke’s company—I always had.

“Do you remember when we played Twister with the guys?” Luke piped up, looking at me while biting into the banana again, and I had to pull my eyes away quickly.

I laughed weakly, “Yeah. Michael kept complaining that my butt was in his face.”

“You always won,” Luke reminisced, “I tried so hard to beat you at least once, but I never could.”

“It’s because you were too lanky,” I grinned at him, and I looked at him with raised eyebrows, “You still are.”

Luke shot me a smirk, “Have you been checking me out, Ava Summers?”

I stuck out my tongue, “Only in your dreams, Luke Hemmings.” Luke stuck out his bottom lip in an adorable pout. I made an ‘aw’ sound and before I knew it, I leaned forward and poked his cheek playfully.

His gaze snapped up to mine, his crystal eyes piercing me and practically staring into my soul. I gulped subtly and scratched the back of my neck sheepishly, “Sorry. Did I make things awkward?”

“No, no,” he said quickly, hasty to shake his head and clear up any miscommunications. I just nodded, licking my lips anxiously.

“Um,” Luke began, looking up at me. I shifted uncomfortably on the counter, my hands wedged under my thighs so that he wouldn’t see how nervous he was really making me. Our playful moments had come to an end, it seemed. I had ruined it, as I always did. In front of me, Luke began:

“So, do those panic attacks still happen?”

I was caught a bit off-guard with the sudden shift of topic. I nodded ashamedly, “Yeah. They got worse after—after I left.”

I let that hang in the air, knowing that he would figure out exactly what I was referring to. He just bit at his bottom lip, his tongue swiping out to brush over the curt black stud on the left side of his mouth. I stared at his tongue greedily before realising exactly what I was doing and snapping away abruptly.

“Why?” he questioned, looking up at me with curious eyes. I just shrugged—but I knew exactly why. It was because the one person who always had a knack for calming me down wasn’t within my reach anymore. They were on the other side of the planet, furthering their music career and being the amazing person that I knew they’d amount to be.

Finally, I grew some balls, and I murmured out, “You weren’t there.”

I honestly expected him to look at me as though I was some disgusting piece of trash, as though I couldn’t fend for myself. I expected him to shoot off on this long rant about how I should’ve been stronger and not let it affect me; I should’ve been better, always striving to be better and not settle for anything less than one-hundred percent. Because that’s what I’d been told my entire life.

I’d been told by my teachers in school—all of them. At first, I’d been happy that they’d recognized that I was a hard worker, but then they kept pushing me. And you can only do so well before you reach a limit.

Even after I’d left Sydney and travelled here, I’d been pounded down by Elise, who was constantly looking for the best of the best. I’d always felt uncomfortable around her; she analyzed every little thing, and I was always on my toes, hoping that I wouldn’t slip up and ruin absolutely everything.

Even Jay—who had never really realised it, who had only done it subconsciously and without meaning to—had put pressure on me, letting me know constantly that this was the only opportunity we’d get to prove ourselves. So I had to be at my best, and I had to be perfect.

But I wasn’t at my best. Anyone could see that. And now it was time for Luke to push me towards goals that I wasn’t even sure I wanted to reach anymore.

But when I looked up at the boy I used to love, I saw his blue eyes holding sympathy for me. He nodded knowingly, and he sighed, “I know. And you weren’t either.”

“I know,” I said quietly.

Suddenly I was so angry at myself for leaving Luke all alone. I’d thought that abandoning them would take a huge weight off their shoulders and let them be free to do whatever they wanted. But instead, I’d simply given them more to bear, more secrets to hold, something else to weigh them down.

“I’m sorry, Luke,” I told him, my vision snapping up at him. He smiled lightly, “I accept your apology. And I’m sorry too—especially for that whole bathroom fiasco a few days ago.”

“Let’s just forget about that,” I said briskly, not wanting to remember it, even though it had been the only thing on my mind since it had happened, “Let’s forget about the whole elevator thing too.”

Something flashed in his eyes—disappointment? Just a twinge—but he quickly shook it off and nodded half-heartedly, “Okay. Uh—sure.” I cocked my head, questioning him silently, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Can I—?” I hesitated, “Can I see your wrist?”

He looked like he wanted to object, and his mouth opened, no doubt to spit out a ‘no’. I knew it was risky to ask—it was there because of me. But my curiosity had overpowered every other emotion in my body, and all the common sense I housed. I wanted to see it—it was living proof, an actual piece of evidence that this whole thing wasn’t a dream.

I wasn’t going to wake up in my childhood bed back in Australia with Luke’s arm wrapped around me—this was real.

I could see the gears in Luke’s head clicking and whirring. His mouth closed and his right hand flew to his left wrist, which was decked with woven and plastic, rubbery bracelets, hiding the single scar.

I realised with a jolt that that was why he’d suddenly begun wearing them as soon as the band gained popularity. He’d never really worn them before I’d left. He’d done such a good job of pretending that everything was okay, of smiling and being crazy with his bandmates, dressing up in kooky costumes and pretending that he was having the time of his life. He’d done such a good job of grinning at interviews and acting as though everything was alright.

“Sure,” Luke’s small voice brought me out of my rapid thoughts. He lifted up his left arm, his fingers fiddling with the bracelets, but I stopped him, “Let me.”

He just shrugged and held out his hand. I grabbed it and set it down in my lap, moving over to the left so that I was now sitting on the counter directly in front of him. He looked up at me, gulping heavily, and I shot him a tiny, reassuring smile.

I turned his arm over and got to work, slipping a few large, rubber bracelets off of his wrist swiftly. The other, tighter bands I simply pushed aside, revealing the small pink scar that had mostly healed, but was still visible if you looked hard enough.

“Has anyone else noticed it?” I asked him quietly, and he shook his head.

And then, in the back of my head, my subconscious snapped into action.

This is perfect! You can include this in your article! It’s something no one’s ever seen before, something that is completely original and has never been done.

I was immediately horrified with myself; so horrified that I almost dropped his hand back into my lap. What the fuck was wrong with me? How could I possibly even fathom doing that? Yeah, it was something new, and it would put me on top…

Shut the fuck up Ava!

“I’m so sorry Luke,” I breathed, the pink scar on his wrist seeming surreal. Tears pricked at my eyes as I realised what a horrible person I really was. I’d caused this—I’d left them—and now I had no choice but to continue hurting them, building up their trust only to demolish it once again.

“Aves, it’s alright, seriously,” Luke insisted, sighing lightly.

I felt the force of his arm being tugged back, and I let it go, watching helplessly. Suddenly, all I wanted to do was kiss him and tell him that I was never going to leave him, even though I knew it was a lie.

I wiped at a rogue tear that had escaped the confinement of my waterline. “Hey,” Luke said quietly. He stood up, towering over me, and I looked up at him with parted lips.

He’d grown into such a fine man. His arms were muscular when he flexed them unknowingly; his jawline was chiseled and shadowed with light stubble. His shoulders were broad and masculine, something that attracted me more than I’d thought it would. His hair was tucked away behind his boyish snapback, but it peeked through, the blonde strands curling elegantly and making me want to run my fingers through them.

His nose and his eyes were the only young features about him, the only things left of my Luke Hemmings, the one I’d known before the entire world his snatched him away. His nose was the same, straight and upturned a bit at the tip, making him look like one of the ‘Who’s in the Dr. Seuss tales.

His eyes were bright blue, yet they were ever-changing. Sometimes they were vibrant, like the blue you could only see in the sky on a cloudless day. Sometimes they were a bit darker, slightly dilated, like the time we’d had sex by the creek. And other times, they were so light they were almost gray, resembling cloudy skies and the taste of rain.

“Please don’t cry,” Luke begged quietly, looking down at me.

I inhaled sharply, the smell of Old Spice and home flooding my nostrils and making my nerves tingle, “I’m sorry. This is really pathetic and awkward, and I don’t even know what I’m crying about.”

There was silence. I stared at Luke’s chest, not wanting to meet his eyes. I took in how the black fabric of his top clung to his pectorals, my eyes sweeping over the broad span.

“Stop it,” Luke said.

He leaned down and wriggled his arms under mine, wrapping them around my waist tightly. He then buried his face into the crook of my neck, where my collarbone met my shoulder. I stiffened, unable to comprehend what was happening.

I felt Luke begin to pull back uncertainly, and I sensed my opportunity escaping. Quicker than a lightning strike, I flung my arms around Luke’s neck, pulling him back a bit and holding him close to me. I closed my eyes and breathed in his scent—wanted to get drunk off of it—along with the fact that I was touching him and that I didn’t mind it one bit.

“I missed you, Blondie,” I murmured before I could process the words. I felt Luke laugh against me, his entire body rumbling with the sound, and I smiled subconsciously.

“I missed you more, Aves.”

We pulled back at the same time, and I looked up at him hopefully, “So? Friends?”

That same emotion flashed behind Luke’s eyes, and for a moment, I could almost detect a sort of pain behind his forced smile, “Yeah. Uh, friends.”

Luke had forgiven me.

I was one giant step closer to completing this magazine article. We were ‘friends’ and I couldn’t wait to experience all the secrets he had for me, everything he would confide, everything I would know and put into writing. Luke was my one-way ticket to a bigger and better job, payment, and life.

And I tried to convince myself that that was all he was to me. A simple tool to be used for my own personal gain. It was what I needed, what had to happen. But did I simply want that? Or did I want more? Did I want a friend, a potential boyfriend? I didn’t know.

I wanted something more. I wanted Calum to make me laugh and smile at me. I wanted Ashton to crack jokes and give me advice. I wanted Mikey to confide everything in me and to treat me like his sister again.

And I wanted Luke. All of him. I didn’t know how, and I didn’t know when, but I knew I was craving him, wanting to see him all the time. I had missed Luke with every particle of my being.

I was just trying to convince myself otherwise.

Notes

Progress! They are now friends! I hope you guys enjoyed this extra-long chapter!

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