sexting ≫ l.h

fifteen

(EDITED) read note at the end

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me: let me think it over

me: idk if we should facetime

luke: no changing your mind babygirl

me: but i'm awkward and you're hot

me: soudhdkdkdid i meant hot

me: fUck i meANT NOT**** help

luke: you don't have to hide your feelings agnes, just say it

me: oh my god

luke: but i'm hot as fuck aren't i

me: i'M CALLING BYE SEE YOU

luke: NO I'M CALLING YOU SEE YOU

Okay, so the basics: don't embarrass yourself in front of him, just be yourself. That sounds like Eli is talking to me, but whatever, it sounds like it might help. Is he going to call me or should I call first? Wait, why does this feel like he is my third grade crush and I'm next to the house phone waiting for his call? It's just Luke Hemmings.

I don't know if that's the part that worries me or that calms me down, though. Interrupting my thoughts I glance up, noticing noises coming from my laptop and I open it in front of me, showing Luke's name on Facetime. I press on the green button and already feel a smile coming up as my cheeks warm up.

I giggle when his face is on the screen, his hair fixed in a messy way, but looking as if he did it on purpose. Definitely making him look hot.

"Hi," I say, sounding way too childish and I blush, glancing away to avoid him seeing me, in this embarassing state. My hair is french braided and probably even destroyed after laying down on my bed after coming from school, and I'm wearing basic black clothes while my makeup is only the remaining mascara and simple eyeliner from this morning. I look horrible compared to him.

He chuckles, "Hey, Agnes Louise Bloom," He smirks and I roll my eyes, "how are ya?"

"Hungry, and tired, but mostly hungry." I tell him, laying down on my stomach to be closer to my laptop, but not too close. "What about you?"

"Same and it's only six in LA," He cracks a grin and I chuckle lighty, watching his features slightly, like the blue in his eyes and the dimple that shows every time he grins and smiles, "Can I have a concert for myself?" He asks pouting like a little boy.

"It's late," I shrug, again looking away as I rub the back of my neck.

"Agnes, you play piano at midnight, I don't think it's late," He arches his eyebrows and I groan looking up in frustration. I sigh and get up from my bed, seeing a winning smirk on his face. I walk to the corner of my room where, beside the full-sized mirror, my guitar hangs on the wall. I take it delicate in my hands and walk back to my bed in front of the lap top.

"I don't like you anymore, you are forcing me." I tel him, positioning the guitar in place as I sit with my legs criss-crossed and I hear a giggle escape his lips.

"Come on, Agnes, you are probably the girl that wakes up and sings, sings in the shower, annoys everyone with their singing because they won't stop and sings when she can't sleep," He chuckles, his eyes glued on me as he talks. My screen shows his face perfectly, he looks like he is laying on a couch with his hands holding his phone right in front of his face.