Mecca

linden blvd.

*Luke's POV*

Girls like you...How could I be so stupid? That was probably the dumbest thing I could possibly say. It had been about 12 hours since the concert and the only thing I could think about was Mecca. I kept repeating her name in my head and thinking about her soft smile and remembering how she smelled when she left the house. Like coconuts and fresh air (both of which were pretty hard to come by in Brooklyn.) And how her hips moved like honey when she danced with her friend. And the way her skin was glowing in the light from the window in the music room. And how her ass looked when she walked out of the music room. And the parts of tattoos that were exposed by her revealing top. I recognized the symbol on her sternum as an ankh with intricate wings stretching under her breasts. And a rose on her left shoulder. And her accent. Her accent was pretty fucking cute.

There was something comforting about replaying every detail I could remember about Mecca. It calmed down my adrenaline rush after the show. But thinking about her made me want to see her again, even though I was lowkey still really embarrassed about our first interaction. I desperately wanted to text her but it was only 9am, which is obviously way too early. Right?

...

*Mecca's POV*

I kept thinking about last night and the tall, lean blond singer. Yeah he was cute and talented and stuff but he just wasn't my type. I was always drawn to the more muscular and athletic guys whose skin tones strictly ranged from milky caramel to moonlight black. And I heard rumors that some of the boys on our school's track team were tryna get my number.  I have literally never thought about a white boy this much in my life, nor gotten this much attention from a white boy. So I was surprised when I felt butterflies after he gave me that Sade record and told me I'm beautiful.

I was even more surprised when I got out the shower to see I had a text from an unknown number. But I ignored the text for a second while I moisturized my skin with cocoa butter, touched my face up with a little matte BB cream, and knotted my dreads behind my head. I opened the message on my phone while I put on my favorite pair of knockoff Adidas leggings and my Obama 2008 campaign shirt.

unknown: hey Mecca its luke

My heartbeat raced as I read the message over again to make sure it was real. I completely forgot I gave him my number. Also my heart should not be racing. He's probably just gonna say something ignorant again anyway.

me: hi wassup

luke: about last night. sorry again for being so weird idk why i said what i said im really embarrassed still tbh

me: dont worry bout it 

luke: too late im already very worried i wanna make it up to you. can i meet you somewhere?

me: lol you already made it up to me with the record remember. it's really not that deep you can get on with your rockstar life or whatever

luke: it's not like that Mecca. at all. i haven't been able to stop thinking about you since last night

God his persistence was starting to annoy me, but I found out that there wasn't any food left at my house so I might as well go get breakfast.

me: fine i'll be at the diner on Linden Blvd at 11

luke: can't wait :)

I don't know why I even bothered to make an effort to see him again, but I figured since he's trying so hard I might as well humor him. But I swear to god if he tries to touch my hair I'm jetting. I slipped on some old white Pumas, grabbed my denim jacket, and left to catch a dollar cab.

*Luke's POV*

"Where are you headed so early?" one of my roommates/best friends, Calum asked curiously as I finished getting dressed. I was already really nervous about seeing Mecca again and the ambush of questions that I know he would ask would not help.