BAD OMENS ✬ luke hemmings

5.4 | senior campout

"How the fuck do you set up a tent?" Michael huffs, tossing one of the poles on the ground and kicking the ground sheet away from his feet. He glances at the girls, Aria and Sade, who seem to be peacefully setting theirs up. "Jonah, the fuck? Why can't we figure this out?"

Jonah is currently trying to spread the tent, laying it flat on the grass, thinking it'll simplify the process. Neither of the boys has ever been camping, except for that one time in tenth grade when the entire grade went on some retreat—classroom without walls, the school called it—but even then, the ninth graders set them all up the night before.

"How can they expect us to know this?" Michael continues, preparing himself – and everyone within a seven-foot radius – for one of his infamous rants. "When will I need to know how to put a tent up? I don't even leave my room, let alone get the urge to go camping." He mutters, placing his hands on his hips and staring at all the items sprawled across the ground messily. "And why are there different coloured rods?"

"I think you've been spending too much time around Aria, Mike!" Calum calls out from a distance, Luke quietly chuckling beside him as he works on setting up their tent.

"No one was talking to you, Calum!" Aria yells back, looking past the rims of her comically oversized designer sunglasses gifted by her mother at the blond, "And why are you laughing? At least we know how to pitch a tent."

"I thought you were leaving me alone," Luke retorts. Even from where Aria stands, she can see the dimples on his cheeks and tell that he's pulling that lip ring between his teeth. "I'm harmless, remember?" He snorts, happily playing into the banter – or, to the others, an argument.

"Oh, but your idiocy just makes it so hard," she replies, helping hold the tent's flimsy material as Sade eases one of the poles through.

"Says the one with the sunnies," he quips, "did anyone tell you about your striking resemblance to Edna from the Incredibles?"

At that, Aria has to physically repress her smile and stop her cackle that would've echoed throughout the entire field. "It's Prada, dipshit!" She informs, her voice struggling to show masked animosity and hide the pure amusement she feels. "Yo! Calum, you better get that tent up soon; Luke will start burning out in the sun. He's looking a little red."

"Getting sloppy, Aria," Luke comments, "don't tell me you're out of one-liners?"

"Nah, I'm just sick of using them on you." She retorts, "Why? You miss me?" Aria tilts her head to the side and flashes a smile, tongue between her teeth.

The blond bites his tongue, opting not to respond, or he will say something he will regret. He can't exactly miss something, or well, someone he already has. He can't exactly miss the bickering or, now, maybe it's banter when he experiences it every day – over text, in person, in the private moments that are more frequent than before.

On the other hand, Sade sends a weird look toward the girl, stealing a curious glance back at the blond. She purses her lips and feeds one of the poles through the tent, "What was that?" She questions, keeping her voice soft and quiet so the boys beside them cannot overhear.

"What was what?" Aria asks, reaching for the fly sheet dumped on the ground. She can't deny that her heart has picked up its beating pace or that her thoughts instantly shift to a million and one excuses as alarm bells ring, begging her to pick 'flight ' and deny every accusation.

She might've been a bit too obvious. Anyone with a brain or decent critical thinking skills could interpret that interaction with Luke to be far too friendly, far too calm, instead of the usual shit storm of yelling and aggressive arguments most have come to familiarize themselves with. Maybe it won't be so bad to tell Sade; she won't tell Michael – who is still too busy muttering to himself and cursing out an inanimate object – and she honestly might not care.