Too Hot // Luke Hemmings A.U.

0.2

creds to Ambar ( Ambarishere) for helping me out, love you boo

"I knew you missed me." Luke said, a taunting tone overtaking his voice.

"Yeah right," I said, using my keys to open the door to the apartment I can't technically call mine anymore. "I just need a place to live and Isabel doesn't have room for me and you're the next best bet," I sighed. I glanced around the place. It wasn't too big. I could see my room and attached bathroom from the front door along with the kitchen and "living room."

"When do you need to move? I already have my shit there I just needed to wait for someone to claim the other half of the check, according to the landlord," he informed me.

"Well," I started as I glanced down at the evil paper in my hands, "I need to be out by Tuesday."

"So why don't you just come over today? It's only Saturday so we could get a big head start." He suggested. I nodded, even though he couldn't see me.

"I guess I could start packing. It's going to take me forever," I frowned.

"I could always come over and help, you know?" He offered. I silently thanked god for him and his generosity.

"Oh my God, are you serious? That'd be so great." I breathed a sigh of relief and headed towards my bedroom, which was a disaster, thanks to my co-worker and other best friend Ambar, who had torn apart my closet trying to find the "perfect army jacket" for a date she had the other night. I huffed, forgetting Luke was still on the phone as I started putting clothes in the hamper or in a pile on my closet floor. They'd all be in boxes anyways.

"You still there?" Luke hummed from the other end. I picked up a black lacy bra and flung it into the closet, praying that when Luke helped me pack he wouldn't stumble across it.

"Yeah! Sorry! Just trying to start some organizing here." I mentally facepalmed at how high my voice went. He chuckled.

"Text me the address and I'll head over now. Need me to pick up some boxes?" He asked.

"Pretty please?" We hung up and I texted him the address before hurrying back to trying to make my room less of a fashion-orientated disaster. Screw Ambar for talking me into buying most of these clothes. Half of which I never wear because they were either in her possession being "borrowed" AKA never to be seen again, or because they were more her taste and I was just in the mood to buy new clothes. We met at Vogue, the magazine we worked for. We both started off as the bottom of the chain interns, fetching coffee and buying lunches and quickly bonded over our then hatred for the job at the time, but she soon progressed into one of the official photographers for the company and now I'm one of the head editors who works on layouts and writing articles.

After about half an hour of more shoving clothes into random places and trying to clean the kitchen by ridding all the empty Starbucks cups, frappachino bottles, and empty salad containers, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in!" I yelled, presuming it was Luke. I heard the doorknob twist and I spotted him from my position at the tiny island where I was taking a break and scrolling through my Instagram feed. He walked in carrying a large armful of boxes. I raised an eyebrow.

"If that's all the boxes you go then you clearly underestimated how much shit I have," I said pointing at his loaded arms. He shook his head rapidly.

"Don't worry. I was at Michael's and he said to bring A LOT. There's probably twenty more in my car.

I grinned. "Clearly Isabel's told him about me."

"Or, he just has common sense of what to expect out of the average New Yorker girl who works at Vogue."

"Also very true," I nodded, "Where did you hear that? Michael?"

He shook his head. "I googled you." He then gave me another fucking smirk.

"Don't you think you're clever? How did you even know my last name? Let me guess. Now that was Michael?" I determined. He nodded.

Now obviously, Isabel had been with him more times than she'd let on because I'm pretty sure one doesn't just spill the last name of their best friend on the first night.

"Let's get started?" He put down the boxes. I nodded.

"I'll start putting these together, you go grab the other boxes." After he went downstairs, I dragged the boxes to my room and managed to assemble a few before he returned. As I was working on my third one, he stumbled into my room and dropped off even more than he came in with the first time. I giggled and went back to working on my box.

"Well you got quite far," he pointed at the two finished boxes.

"Hey. Shut up. Sorry I don't specialize in putting boxes together. I'm not that good with this stuff." He laughed at that and then walked over to me, taking the box out of my hand. He quickly folded it in the time it took me to even figure out which direction to stand the box up.

"Why don't you start putting the clothes in the boxes and I set them up. That'll probably be the fastest way to get things going because the way you fold, we'll be here for the next week." He teased, a dimple popping out. Without argument, I took a finished box into my closet and started pulling things off the rack and throwing them into the box. I finished the closet pretty quick since all I had to do was pull everything down or take things off the floor out of one pile and put it basically into another. It did take most of the boxes he brought up, however. As I was getting ready to go get a box for my shoes, I turned around and bumped straight into Luke, who was apparently standing behind me.

"How long have you been standing there?" I laughed.

"Long enough to notice that you have a tattoo on your back," he smirked. My eyes widened. "Your shirt goes up when you bend over by the way. Nice ass too"

"Listen, I was drunk, we were playing truth or dare and I'm not one to turn down a challenge."

"So they dared you to get a tattoo of a feather?" He asked, amused.

"Well, my friend Calum was the one who dared me and he has a matching one on his collar bone. He thought it would 'signify our friendship.'"

He snorted. "That's dumb."

I straightened out. "Listen you fucking breadstick, it's cute ok, screw off."

Luke laughed, his nose scrunching up. "Breadstick? Was that all you could think of, shortstack?" He challenged.

"I am 5'2, I will have you know." I folded my arms across my chest.

"5'2, my ass. You're probably not even 5 foot." Damn, of course he would would be the one to call me out. Everyone else in my life could just smile and nod when I told the lie, but of course he couldn't. Now all I could think about was how entertaining it would be living with him.

"Are we going to sit here and insult my height all day or can we finish packing? It's not a big apartment," I said, a sassy tone in my voice.

He held a box up and looked at me with a straight face. "Let's get this shit finished."

HI HI I'm in such a huge writing mood now and I had the help of Ambar which is incredible. We're even doing chapter 3 too?!?! Triple update?!