mr. hemmings // l.h.

8 • madeline

((( Madeline's outfit change )))

Once I was changed and ready, we went back to his apartment.

As promised, he made us both some tea and we went back to his bedroom.

"Show me some of your college stuff." I insisted, scooting closer to him on his bed. "I showed you my schoolwork."

He smirked at me, "You have to. I grade it."

I rolled my eyes, "Well, I wanna see what you're up to. Show me some cool stuff."

"But, I'm lame." He laughed. "All I have here is an essay."
He pulled out his laptop, setting it up on the bed in front of us.

"About what?" I asked. I put my legs in his lap, and scooted closer once more, leaning my head against his shoulder. He tensed up at first, but then wrapped an arm around me, holding me in place.

"Parts of the brain." He explained, "For a psych class. It was required. I also have some notes, and a video lecture for my math class. I told you, nothing interesting."

"Well, then show me something interesting." I shrugged. "What do you like to do?"

He thought for a moment, tracing his fingers on my shoulder blades, "I like video games. I like history. I like music. I like movies."

"What kind of video games? And movies, and music, and stuff."
I liked getting to know him more.

"Action games, and horror games too. I like horror movies a lot. And comedies of course, and super hero's are cool too. I'm a bit of a nerd."

I giggled.

He continued, "I also like mysteries. I read a lot of those, along with some comics. And I like a lot of alternative music, mostly rock, and some underground rap. My favorite is the oldies, though."

"I see you have a guitar," I said, motioning to his open closet, "so you play?"

"I do," He said, moving his fingers from my shoulders to my hair, running them through, "acoustic and electric. My electric is in my trunk. Me and my buddies play together a lot. Just for fun, though."

"Do you sing?"

"A little."

"Sing for me."

He blushed, "Not right now. Hey, one day when I'm prepared, I'll sing and play for you. Deal?"

"Deal," I giggled, "so you think we'll hang out more?"

"Do you want to hang out more?"

"I asked first."

He laughed, "You're stubborn. Yeah, I think we will. I'd like to. I already told you I enjoy your company. What do you think?"

"I agree." I smiled.

He sighed, "You're going to get me in a whole lot of trouble, Madeline."

I smiled at him, and batted my eyes innocently. He chuckled.

"Don't do that." He pleaded, "Don't give me those eyes."

"Earlier in the car," I continued, ignoring him, "you told me I was beautiful. Did you mean that?"

"Madeline."

"Well, did you?"

"Of course I meant it. But you're also seventeen." He sighed, "You know just as well as I do why this won't work."

I frowned and looked away. I pulled away from him, sitting up on the bed now. He sighed, laying down on his side, and facing me.

"Stop," He said sadly, "that's not fair."

"What?"

"Stop looking so cute, and sad. Cheer up, will you?"

"I'm cheered. Perfectly cheered."

"No you're not."

"Well, what do you want Luke?"

He sighed again, "Come here."

He grabbed me by my forearm, pulling me to lay down beside him. I was facing him still, and he wrapped both arms around me. One caressed the back of my head, playing with my hair again, and the other strong and tight around my waist. I softly placed my head on his chest, wrapping both arms around his torso.

"This is trouble." He said softly.

"You started it." I scoffed.

"I know."

"Do you like me?"

"I think you're really special," He gushed, "and lovely. And you're intelligent, and kind, and adorable, and I like to be around you. Stop asking questions before I really dig myself a grave."

"Okay." I laughed.

"So what is it about boys your age that you are so against?"

"Everything," I grumbled, "they're immature, and selfish, and rude. And they all just want one thing."

"Have you ever had a boyfriend?" He asked, "Like, a serious one."

"Yeah," I nodded, "We dated from the beginning of my freshman year to the middle of my junior year, and it was horrible."

"Why?"

"He was mean."

"How so?"

"Well, he said mean things to me, all of the time. He was always putting me down and calling me names and making me feel like shit about myself. And he took advantage of me, and manipulated me, and other stuff."

"Did he ever put his hands on you?"

"Sometimes."

He looked at me, worriedly, "Did he really?"

My cheeks warmed up. "Yeah, but it's not a huge deal. We're not together anymore."

"Of course it is." He said sternly, "Madeline, don't you ever let a boy put his hands on you. They should never hurt you, ever. Of course it's a big deal, are you crazy?"

I shrugged, "Maybe a little."

"Madeline," he sighed, shaking his head, "I don't know what to do with you."

"Don't worry about it!" I groaned.

"I'm going to worry," he shot back, "because I care. I feel like I have to protect you. And you're not the best at defending yourself, I've noticed."

"Touché. Change the subject."

He sighed again.
"Do you want to watch a movie?"

"Can we keep cuddling?"

"Yes, Madeline, we can keep cuddling."

"Okay." I smiled.
He smiled, too. I knew what he wanted to say. Trouble.