try hard // luke hemmings

Chapter Nine

I wasn't sure how to feel about the whole ordeal with Luke. I sat in my room about an hour after Logan got home, mulling over the events and why Luke would come over in the light rain and expect me to let him in. Luke Hemmings was seriously more confusing than algebra back in 8th grade.

Hell, he could be saying that about me right now, what do I know?

I ran a hand through my hair and glanced over at my desk. My hardly-used iPhone blinked. I walked over to it uncertain. The lock screen was lit up with a message from a number I didn't recognize.

" let myself to your number babe ;) now you have mine "

It took all my willpower not to viciously attack my phone, throw it out the window, burn it, step on it, kick it, chuck it at the wall, hurl it halfway across the world. Instead, I let out a scream. "Hey!" Logan barked, "Keep it down up there."

I stride to my bed and clench the covers in my fists and pull. I pull until they're on the floor. I push the mattress hard, off of the bed. I grab the pillows and throw them across the room, where one crashes into my dresser. I kick at the bed frame, letting the tears splotch my vision.

Why was he so obsessed with me? I don't want to talk to him, be with him, listen to him. I don't want anything to do with him. He has the nerve to insert my number into his phone and text me about it like the cocky bastard that he is. I hate celebrities. They're all so arrogant and stuck up. Example A) Luke Fucking Hemmings.

I pick up my phone and glare at it, swipe the lock screen and glare at the offending message even more. " let myself to your number babe ;) now you have mine "

God. What a jerk.

My thumbs flutter over the keypad, unsure of what I should type back in reply. Maybe nothing? I put the phone down. I don't want to talk to anyone. I exit the messages and go to my contacts so I can scroll through those and feel even more miserable.

Grandma Levine, Grandpa Levine, Granny, Logan, Luke, Mom, Samuel.

Samuel? I scroll back up to his contact and click it. When did he have a hold of my phone? I flashback to Wendy's when I briefly went to the bathroom. Ah. Now, I'm okay with him having my number and vice versa.

A knock on the door frame startles me. I turn around, phone and hand. Margret stood there. "You got your homework done, Cheyanne?" Mom asked, in her Southern drawl that I wasn't lucky enough to inherit. Which was okay, because I don't like the drawl when it's causing me out as Logan beats me to a pulp.

"Of course," I lie. "I left it at school, in my locker, so it'll be ready tomorrow. I finished it at school." I clarify when she only stares at my blankly. Margret glances around my room. "Cheyanne, what the hell happened here? It looked like a tornado swept by."

I stammered for a good response. "Um, I lost one of my shirts and I was looking for it because I lost it and it was my favorite shirt and the mattress is like that because I was looking for a shirt I lost-"

Margret holds up a hand to stop me. "Yeah, I get that Chey. Just get this room cleaned up before Logan decides to do inventory."

Mom leaves and I slump in relief over a chair.

I go over to my bed and start fixing everything and putting back in its place. When I'm done, I start on the homework I had said I had done.

.

I don't go down for dinner. The history chapter was asking for too much attention. I held my head up with my hands and stared at the pages blankly. My phone vibrated, startling me and making me stab my palm. "Ow!" I reach for the phone and slide "Answer" without looking. "Hello?"