The Popularity Project » l.h.

5. Party Virgin

S T E L L A

"Can you really swear in three different languages?"

"W-what?" My eyes catch Luke's as I glance at him from the opposite end of his desk.

I was catching up on work for Maths while I was staying in Luke's room as moral support until he really needed help. He insisted I do home tutoring with him after his soccer practices since he was falling behind. So for the past week, my afternoons have been filled with bad pronunciations and patience with Luke at his house. Ever since I became his tutor, he's been doing better academically but his attention span is as big as a peanut, making studying unnecessarily difficult.

Luke shows a hint of a smile, scribbling down mindless words into a notebook in front of him. It's not even his French homework, why am I still here?

"When you told off Calum, you said you could cuss at him in three languages." Luke waited for my response.

I pause, unconsciously creasing the corner of my statistic's work. "Yeah, I guess I did say that."

"What languages?" Luke calmly balls his fists together as he props his chin upon them, giving me his full attention. "Just curious."

I lean back into the desk chair, collecting my thoughts. "My favorite is French, but I also know some words in Italian and Japanese."

Luke only nods while his face expresses a mild sense of surprise and approval, giving a small smile. "I like that, a lot."

I could only shake my head with an awkward laugh, looking down at my fidgeting hands. There are certain times when I feel totally unfazed and confident when I'm around Luke, but most of the time I turn into this nervous wreck with a bouncing leg and busy hands. I keep telling myself that it's only because he's popular and totally out of my league. I want to believe that I'd be like this with any other person from school because I tend to be really anxious, but I'm beginning to disregard my own beliefs. Any time I hear something generally nice from Luke's mouth, it feels like I've been ran over by a bus.

"You should be doing your work, Hemmings." I mumble, motioning to his papers with a quick hand before I comb loose strands of hair behind my ear.

I take a quick look at him. Luke's curious eyes were still trained on me, accompanied by a goofy grin. Silence takes its role, as only the soft sound of Luke's scribbling pen fills the void for the next few minutes before his voices chimes at me.

"I wonder why I haven't I met you sooner." His words are soft but firm.

I tear my eyes away from my textbook, connecting them with Luke's once more as he twirls his pen between his narrow fingers. I didn't know how to reply to him because I didn't know exactly why he would slap me with a broad statement so out of the blue.

"I-I don't know." I give a light chuckle, biting the inside of my cheek as my leg begins bouncing up and down again. "I don't go out much?"

Gee Stella, maybe it's the fact that you're a loser who would rather babysit your neighbor's children than go to prom. 

Luke chuckles quietly, drawing mindless patterns on his worksheet. "I mean c'mon, everyone I hang out with are so boring. They're pretty stupid, too. They're just so- hm, what's the word?"

"Fake? " I suggest, earning a lighter expression from Luke.

"Yeah. Fake." He confirms as he crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair. "Fake, fake, fake."

Your girlfriend is the worst of them all.

"But you, Stella," Luke tilts his head at me, pointing a lazy finger in my direction, "you're anything but fake."