university ☼ hemmings [a.u]

Seven ; This is Creative Writing, not Music Appreciation.

Luke woke up the next morning with his face smushed into his pillow. He groaned and rolled over slowly, his eyes closed. His head hurt like crap, but he managed to sit up and opened his eyes slightly.

He stood up slowly with shaky legs and walked out of his room to the kitchen. He glanced into Ashton's room, who had left the door wide open. He was asleep and shirtless, with an unfamiliar girl beside him.

Luke chuckled to himself and opened the cabinets of the kitchen in search for Advil. He finally found it and grabbed it quickly, but it was empty.

"For fuck's sake," he mumbled to himself and tossed the container towards the trashcan, but missing it by a few feet.

He opened the fridge to find a few beers, waters, and leftover pizza from a few weeks ago.

Luke shook his head and slammed it closed. He walked back to his room and fell back onto the bed. "This is going to be a hell of a day," he mumbled to himself as his headache continued to get worse.

His mind then shifted to last night and he groaned again. Last night wasn't one of the best parties for him. Usually, he'd easily get drunk and get girls, but he wasn't really feeling himself. He didn't expect to express his feelings to Quinn, either.

At the thought of the girl, a small grin made its way to Luke's lips. He remembered Creative Writing class and quickly sat up again. He usually just skipped that class, but today he felt a yearning to actually go. He probably wouldn't participate, but he knew Quinn would most likely show up.

As he slowly got up to get changed, he remembered that she seemed a little shocked that he knew they had a class together. Luke wasn't so oblivious; he would briefly remember the faces of the people in class with him. And somehow during his drunken state last night, he remembered Quinn's face.

She sat in the comfort of the back of the room by herself, content. She never raised her hand or spoke out, but the professor would always praise her on her spectacular writing.

Without even checking himself out in the mirror on the way out, Luke grabbed his bookbag and left the apartment.

***

Luke walked into the Creative Writing classroom and looked around. Not many people were there yet, but there in the back of the room in her usual seat sat Quinn. She was sitting cross legged with her phone in her lap. Her head was tilted forward and her brown hair was like a curtain around her face.

Luke sauntered up to her desk and with a smirk he said, "Long time no see."

Quinn let out a sigh and glanced up at him, then back at her phone. She did a double take and took in his appearance and snorted. Luke's smirk disappeared and he glanced down at himself. His flannel was all buttoned incorrectly and his hair fell down on half of his face.

"God. Sorry, I was a little distracted this morning," he grumbled and plopped down in the seat next to her.

She watched him with a raised eyebrow as he began to re-button his flannel. "What was distracting you?" Quinn asked curiously, her voice soft and croaky. Luke looked up from his flannel and looked her straight in the eyes. "You," he said simply, licking his lips.

Quinn narrowed her eyes slightly and turned back around so her attention was on her phone. Luke ran a hand through his blonde hair so it would stay up, but it kept falling in his face. He sighed and pushed it to the side, not in the mood to try and fix it into its usual quiff. "So, what's wrong with your voice?" Luke asked bluntly, trying to keep their conversation going. It wasn't much, but he wanted to do whatever it took to make her interested in him.