Foreign Exchange // Punk Luke Hemmings

Places

I slid a leg into my spandex shorts, then the other after it. I then pulled on my favorite skirt. It was about three or four inches shorter than my knees, and made of a soft, black material that flowed around when I moved. Of course I wore shorts under it, as well as any other dresses or skirts I wore, because I didn't feel like taking any chances.

I finished off the outfit with a simple short-sleeved baseball tee tucked into the skirt, as well as my white Vans. I then brushed out my knotted black hair and braided it, figuring that I wouldn't have enough to time to shower. I didn't pull very tight, as my head was pounding like crazy.

Ready for whatever hell awaited me downstairs, I made my way to the kitchen, which was surprisingly empty. I got a cup of water and two pain killers, swallowing them quickly and praying for the effects to kick in soon.

As I was pulling out my usual morning bagel, Luke entered the room. With it just being the two of us, my stomach grew tight and anxious. I glanced at the clock and fount it was almost noon. That meant the only other one home was Chandler. And he wouldn't be any help if something happened.

I looked intently at my food as I spread a layer of cream cheese on it. Luke opened the fridge to my left, and when I looked up at him for a moment, I was a bit taken aback.

Instead of his usual quiff, a SnapBack sat atop his head, and as usual, his tattooed arms shoes in his muscle tee. He retrieved the milk and an apple, then proceeded to get a cup, then replaced the carton and sat down.

"You took long enough to wake up," he complained. I clenched my jaw, staying silent. I'd learned over the years that if someone is teasing you and you don't react, they'll stop sooner. But that's apparently not the case with Luke...

"You gonna speak princess?" I glared at him, trying to ignore the smirk on his lips.

"Not to you I'm not," I muttered to myself.

He stood again, advancing toward me. I stood facing toward the table, with an island counter situated before me. Luke stepped around behind me, placing one hand on either side of me on the edge of the counter. I was caged, but I wouldn't look at him. That's what he wants.

"You need lessons on how to be nice, kitten," he purred from behind my head. His breath was warm on my hair and neck. "I could teach you."

I didn't say anything. I just stood there, trapped between a beautiful, messed up boy and a hard place. If I responded, is give him what he wanted. If I didn't, he'd just keep me stuck there all day.

"Why do you hate me Haylee?" Luke sounded genuinely curious for once. Like he actually wanted to know the answer, like it mattered.

"Because you're a complete dìck," I shrugged, not missing the chance to say it directly to him.

"That's it?" He placed his hands on my hips, twirling me to face him. My lower back pressed against the granite countertop, and I was definitely trapped. He stood mere inches away, staring down at me.

"Y-yeah-" I stuttered slightly.

"Am I making you nervous princess?" His voice was quiet as his hand brushed my own.

"Very nervous..." I whispered, feeling my face heat up.

"And why is that?"

"Because I don't know if your going to turn into that little ass you usually are. Because I don't know if this is just a trick. Because I don't want to associate myself with you but I'm slowly finding you everywhere. That's why. And it scares me, so if you'd please take a step back, I'd appreciate if I could think," I answered hurriedly. I then pushed out of his arms, just standing there not facing him.