𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 → 𝐥𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

43. on your desk

friday,
november 26th, 2020

LUKE HEMMINGS

"Oh, jeez," Cal visibly winces as he eyes up the mess of purple and red on my chest, "That's gotta hurt."

I glare at him, "Well no shit, dumbass."

I toss my t-shirt aside, reluctantly allowing my friend to lather my chest in Vaseline — something that will help prevent my skin from splitting open. The petroleum also protects my current injuries, providing a jelly barrier between my opponent's knuckles and me. Calum smooths it across my torso too, knowing how prone I am to leaving that section of my body vulnerable during fights.

I never used to. I used to be better.

And I think there's a mutual, silent agreement between Cal and I that we don't discuss why I'm not as good as I used to be in the ring. Rocky knows why, I know why and Calum would be a fool not to realise too. I could blame it on my new lifestyle; how I'm busy now because I work five days a week and then am expected to fight every weekend.

I know better. That's not the reason. I'm distracted, unfocused and it's all my own fault. Well, not entirely mine... but Ezra's too. Unbeknownst to her, she occupies a large portion of my mind all the goddamn time and, unfortunately for me, that includes the time spent at Riverside.

"You've gotta cut things off with her," Rocky singlehandedly decides as he watches from the doorway of my dressing room — if you could even call it that.

I immediately scoff, snapping my gaze over to him, "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure I do," he cackles, sauntering further into the tiled room as Calum finishes up, "She's in your head, Hemmings," he whispers tauntingly, a growing smirk on his face.

Much to my dismay, he uses two fingers to tap the side of my head to enforce his point further. I slap his arm away from me, scowling.

"She has nothing to do with this shithole," I seethe, looking back at Cal as his presses his lips together tightly. "Well speak up if you want to input your opinion, Hood. Seems like now's the time to attack me for having a social life."

Rocky scoffs from behind me, "That's not what I was—"

"Shut up," I growl, cutting him off and refusing to take my eyes off of my brunette buddy, "Well?"

Calum clears his throat, dark eyes flickering between Rocky and myself, "Maybe you are allowing her to get to you a little..." he trails off, as if he's afraid of my reaction.

"Oh come on!" I groan, slumping my shoulders defeatedly.

"I'm not exactly opposed to it!" Calum defends himself, wary of me now when he has no reason to be, "I like Ezra. But, fuck man, she literally lives in your mind. Just find a balance. Block her out when you're here."

I sigh, considering what he's saying. Ezra is constantly on my mind. I can't help it, she fascinates me and intrigues me and I like being around her. She's different and new and a breath of fresh air. I don't see what's so wrong with that.

"Fine," I exhale finally, "I'll find a balance."

***

"Fuck!" I yell, scrambling through my gear bag and looking in every crevice of my car, "You've seen it, have you? Have you seen my book?"

Calum stands there, unfazed with his hands in the pockets of his loose joggers. I stare at him, my eyes blown as I anticipate an answer. My chest is heaving with adrenaline and stress. The former because I just won my fight and the latter because my leather bound journal is nowhere to be found.