The Mighty Fall // l.h.

Chapter 8 • 18

• Mimi •

"There's really no getting rid of you, is there?"

Calum glances up from tuning his bass to look at me, giving me one of the best bitch faces I've seen in awhile.

"I'm a bit like herpes — I'm pretty difficult to get rid of," I reply sharply, shifting my weight onto one hip.

"You would know, I'm sure," he snorts in reply.

"Are you suggesting that I'm a slut?"

"Your words, not mine."

I roll my eyes, knowing that this is not the kind of argument I want to waste my time on. "It's not just your venue, you know; I'm performing here tomorrow night, I just wanted to get familiar with the set up."

"Did you really need to do it right before our performance?" Calum tries to argue, but I ignore him, deciding to go elsewhere.

I wander through the backstage hallways, trying to find my way in the concrete maze. Calum had been in the backstage area with the tech crew, so I thought I would try to find the lounge where the rest of the band would most likely be. I pull down on the hem of my plain gray crop top in an attempt to line it up with the waistband of my high waisted black shorts, but it doesn't really help with covering up my stomach. My body is too long.

The rest of the band is not waiting in the lounge room as I had assumed they would be ... well, not all of the them, anyway.

Luke's lengthy figure is stretched out across the gray leather couch, his feet hanging off one armrest and his blonde head propped up against the other. He looks incredibly bored scrolling through his phone, so I'm not surprised when he looks up the minute I make my presence known. 

We meet eyes and he gives me a toothy grin. "Hello, gorgeous," he says, causing me to roll my eyes at him. "What are you doing here?"

"Just thought I'd come to check out the venue," I reply.

I approach the couch, pushing his legs off so I can sit down. He shifts to sit beside me while shoving his phone into the pocket of his skinny jeans.

At this point in time, I don't really know what to make of Luke. I like being around him; he makes me feel comfortable, like I can just be myself, which is something I haven't been able to do in a long time. I'd love to be able to call him my friend, if nothing else.

But I can't.

I can't call Luke Hemmings my friend for two reasons. For one thing, I'm supposed to be using him, which makes it difficult to actually consider him a friend. Friends should be able to be honest with each other and I know I can't do that. No matter how close we might become, I'll always feel wrong about it. It's a feeling I can't push away.

"Where are the other guys?" I ask, trying to fill the silence.

"Couldn't tell you," Luke replies. He stands up off the couch and turns to hold a hand out to me. I take it without asking questions and he leads me away from the lounge and down another hallway.

"Where are we going?" I finally ask.

"I don't know what I'm going to wear for the show tonight," he replies without turning around. "I need you to help me decide." 

I follow him into what I can only assume is his dressing room and he faces me, gesturing to the door behind me. "Could you close that?"

I nod and turn to pull the the handle, hearing the click when it shuts. I turn back around just in time to see Luke pulling off his plain black t-shirt.