𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 → 𝐥𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

15. i'll kiss you when you're sober

friday,
october 8th, 2020

EZRA GREYSTONE

"I think you look perfect, Ezra."

He says it with such affirmation, so matter-of-factly that I actually kind of believe him.

Of course, I feel an all too familiar heat crawl up my neck and blossom across my cheeks. I can't control my smile really, so I look up at Luke once more and am almost startled by how his bright blue eyes glisten. I scrunch my nose, glancing down at my attire and shrugging.

"Thanks, Luke," I whisper, meeting his gaze and he showcases a little smirk.

"I made us tea," he replies, nodding to the two steaming mugs behind him, "I wasn't sure how you take it so I said I'd wait for you to pour your own milk and sugar."

I grin in thanks and join him by the counter. As he retrieves the milk from the fridge and the sugar from the cupboard, I look around his flat again.

It's actually really beautiful— kind of industrial and sleek, but also very cosy. The brick walls compliment the dark furniture well and the London skyline completes the place. Luke has three huge windows on the back wall, kitchen to the left as you enter. There's a small wall which separates the lounge from the kitchen, but it's all very open planned. To the right of the L-shaped couch is a four seater dining table, and further right of that is his en-suite bedroom, around the corner from the kitchen, where we stand now. He has three guitars on show, each leaning against the brick wall of the living area. Two acoustic and an electric.

I was wary of getting changed in his room, what with the glass doors and all, but once Luke disappeared around the corner I trusted him not to invade my privacy.

My daydream is broken when the milk is placed in front of me. I silently pour a splash into my mug, following up with half a teaspoon of sugar. I'm not surprised when Luke disregards the sugar and only adds a small drop of milk.

He eyes up my cup, "You have quite the sweet tooth, hm?" he teases me while I blush.

God, am I ever gonna stop doing that around him?

"Maybe I do," I respond, looking up at him while I bring the mug to my lips. "Is that such a bad thing?"

He visibly gulps, "I don't think it is."

I blink, sipping my tea and watching his hands ball at his sides. He clears his throat, picking up his own mug and nodding in the direction of his couch. "Why don't you grab the vinyl from your bag, hm?"

He gently takes my mug from me, our fingers brushing causing my heart rate to elevate slightly. I elicit a tiny gasp, unsure if he even heard it, but when a smirk crawls across his lips I know he has. I distract myself by retrieving the Hozier vinyl from my bag, which sits on a barstool by the counter. Luke disappears around the dividing wall and I cautiously follow. He sets our cups of hot tea on the wooden coffee table and looks over at me.

"Are you nervous?" he questions, approaching me. His eye contact sort of intimidates me, and he doesn't break it.

I inhale slowly, "No," I state, feigning confidence.

Maybe Luke senses my false bravery, because I think him licking his lips was a method of hiding his grin, "Don't be."

"Why would I be?" I stutter out, knowing full well why I would be — and am — so fucking nervous.

I'll kiss you when you're sober.

Luke takes another step forward, so that our chests graze one another's when we inhale. He looks down on me, piercing blue eyes so pretty in the afternoon sunshine that strains through his windows. My lips seal shut, breath faltering as his hand comes up to softly tuck a slither of hair behind my ear. It must have slipped from my bun. I clear my throat as his hand lingers, and I swear his eyes flutter towards my lips, but maybe I am imagining it.