the kink club • luke hemmings ✔️

43. the one where the kink club is finished.

chapter forty-three:
the one where the kink club is finished.

"Didn't she just hate him a couple of days ago?"

"I think so."

"You think so? You said she came home crying yesterday,"

"Oh Michael, leave it. They look so peaceful."

"Yeah, then wait 'til they wake up and listen to Soph scream about how he didn't use protection."

"She has a point. Wrap it before you tap it."

"Hey, isn't this a little weird?"

"What?"

"We're practically watching them sleep. It's a little creepy. And we're whispering,"

"Oh, right."

"You're not doing a very good job at it though, are you?" another voice interrupts them, groggily, and from the other side of the bed next to me, I feel the mattress rise. "Scream at us next time, why don't you?"

I lay where I am, too tired to peel my eyes open just to be greeted by the judging faces of my friends. Instead, I pull the covers up over my head, concealing the already muffled noise.

"We know you're awake, Soph." someone says, and strong hands rip the covers off of me. "Rise and shine, baby!"

"Baby?" Ashley raises a skeptical eyebrow at Michael, who just shrugs, before loosening his grip on the duvet.

"I was just trying to ease her into waking up. And it worked! Look, her eyes are open."

Groaning, I cover my head with my hands, not in the mood to face any one of my friends right now. I haven't really had a good amount of sleep lately and last night was- surprisingly- the only exception.

"Give her some time, you guys." Luke says, his own voice filtering into a tired yawn. For a split second, it soothes me, because I remember how calm and relaxed I felt the night before lying next to him. But then I remember how we still have to confront April, how Chase still has some explaining to do, and how we have yet to avoid directly accusing the girl of something she can't necessarily help.

Everyone leaves the room, Luke included. They should all know by now that I'm not a morning person, anyway. Coming within two feet of me when I've just been disturbed from sleep is a very dangerous thing to do.

I stand up, stretching, letting a slight yawn fall from my lips. I glance at the mirror, grimace at what I see, and duck my head down to avoid looking at any more.

My bedroom door is shut, adding to the long list of out-of-place things that have happened this morning. Apart from waking up to two of my best friends watching me sleep, and apart from waking up next to the one guy I'd have hated to wake up to just a day prior, my closed door is probably the strangest.

I fix my appearance within the span of a few minutes, knowing that there isn't much to do seeing as I have no solid plans for today. I have half the mind to march up to April's apartment and confront her about everything once and for all, but I know that probably won't end well; I'll say something, she'll snap at me, and I'll probably yell at her things I know I'll regret later on.

There's no use in making a rash decision when you're angry, because when the feeling fades and all the red disappears, you end up resenting what you did a whole lot more than when you actually did it. And after everything that's happened, resentment is definitely not what I need right now.