Oblivion // Luke Hemmings

Prologue

Prologue

"You'll never know if you don't try," Kaytlyn sings, her hands clutching onto my wrists and attempting to pull me out of my bed. Key word being attempting.

"I don't party, Kaytlyn. Simple as that," I respond.

"Taylor, please," she whines, giving up and letting my hands drop, causing me to fall back onto my queen sized bed.

"I don't know," I sigh. "I don't even have anything to wear."

"It's a costume party. Put on a tight black dress, draw some whiskers on your cheeks, and BAM! You're a slutty cat," Kaytlyn concludes.

I shove a pillow onto my face and groan, knowing I'd give into my best friend sooner or later.

"Was that a yes I heard?" she speaks, poking my thigh with her acrylic nail.

"I guess so," I give up, tossing the pillow to the side.

"Yes!" she squeals, grabbing my feet and dragging me off the bed.

I fall with a thump! to the hardwood floor, scolding Kaytlyn as I sat up. I walked over to my tiny closet next, searching for a more appropriate outfit than what she described before.

"How about that red dress you wore to the formal dance last year," she suggests, already fixing her hair in my mirror.

"It's long," I remind her, pushing my clothes apart because they were so crammed in the tiny closet.

"Cut it." She shrugs.

"I spent six months allowance on that! Kaytlyn, I am not cutting my dress up," I chastise her.

"Okay, fair enough. But what about that one dress?" she asks, locking eyes with me in the mirror.

"No," I reply, because I knew exactly what dress she was thinking of.

"Taylor Tuom, you are most definitely getting your ass into that dress," Kaytlyn scolds.

"No, I am not," I scolded back.

"Taylor, please," she begs. "It looks so good on you."

"I look like a tramp in it," I remind her. "It was a mistake buying it in the first place."

"You're wearing it," she sings, pushing me aside to get into my closet.

"No, I am not," I tell her.

Long story short: I ended up wearing the dress.

🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉

"You're kidding me, right?" I ask as I pull up to the loud party house. "Luke Hemmings? This is Luke Hemmings' house."

"I knew that if you knew we were going to a party at your crush's house that you wouldn't come," Kaytlyn says as she gets out of my car after I park.

"I'm going to regret this," I mutter to myself as I open the car door.

I follow Kaytlyn up the cobblestone to the house of the most popular and hottest guy in school (and, admittedly, my crush). There were teenagers on either side of the sidewalk with drinks or cigarettes or joints in their hands. The girls looked sloppy and the guys were acting sloppy. Typical teenage party in Sydney.

"Dude, it reeks in here," I comment as we enter the large house.

"Ah, that's the smell of teenage rebellion, Taylor," says a voice I knew all too well.

"Michael, what're you doing here?" I ask. "You don't party. And you most definitely do not party at Luke Hemmings' house."

Michael is my neighbor and our mothers are best friends. So, of course, Michael became my best friend. We aren't as close now as we were in our childhood, but we were still good friends who texted regularly and hung out once a week. He has his guy friends and I have my girl friends. It happens.