"Are you ever going to tell me who marked you?" Luke strolls in my room as I lie in bed scrolling through Netflix.
"When satan himself sings hallelujah." I say unamused.
"I can play the forth, the fifth, let the minor fall and the major lift." He jokes.
"Go away." I groan.
"No." He takes the remote from me.
"What do you want? I'm trying to relax." I whine.
"Are you talking to that guy you made out with? All you did was make out, right?" He ignores me.
"Yes, Luke. What's it to you?" I ask.
"To the talking part or the make out part?" he questioned.
"Making out." I bit my lip.
"Stop seeing the idiot. He didn't even give you a proper hickey." He scoffed.
"A proper hickey? There is such a thing?" I laugh.
"Yes." He said in a "duh" tone.
"I've never heard of one." I chuckled.
My laughter quieted and silence fell right before I was awe struck in shock. Luke looked at me strangely before pulling me closer and kissing me. I could not imagine him ever being pleasant, who knew he could do more than spew insults. His hand traveled up leg and to my bum, he soon pulled me into his lap and took my top off. Luke kissed down my neck before carefully lying me down and kissing me further. His lips traveled to a little bit above my bra. There he gave me a "proper hickey." When he was done he smiled up at me after he saw the mark, obnoxiously proud of himself.
"What the fuck?" I rush to the mirror to see the new hickey.
"It's not going to show in your stupid dress. Calm down." He rolled his eyes.
"Luke." I groan.
"You're welcome." He chuckles and walks out.
I fucking hate him.
