Luke's POV:
Oh My God.
I was wearing this old bleach stained t-shirt and sweats and MY HAIR. OH MY GOD.
Shirt and pants and hair and girl coming up stairs OH MY GOD.
This was bad.
I ran to the bathroom where I put on some jeans and a gray tank top, and looked in the mirror to do my hair. Once I perfected it-- messy enough that it didn't look like I had only fixed it minutes ago, but not so messy that it looked like I hadn't showered in days-- She knocked on the door.
I ran across the room to my bookshelf and grabbed "Looking for Alaska" so it looked like I had just been reading it. I wanted to impress her.
I opened the door and looked at her confusingly.
I played it cool.
"Hey.. Um.. Who are you exactly?"
She walked in without being invited and looked curiously at my bookshelf.
"Don't act like you don't know me. By the way, I can smell your hair product, and I would have appreciated it a lot more if you had actually just been reading that." She looked at the book in my hand with a smirk. And then she looked up at me.
I don't have a clue as to what happened when she looked at me but she looked like a Goddess. Her beautiful green eyes seemed to stare right into my soul.
I pretended we hadn't just clearly had feelings for eachother,
"How did you know I just grabbed that book?"
"No bookmark, heard running before you answered the door, and your bookshelf is completely organized all except for right... here," she pointed to where the book had previously been, "where the books that we're next to "Looking for Alaska" are pushed outward, meaning when you grabbed the book, you were in a hurry."
"I like you."
"That's cool."
"How did you get my address?"
"Sources."
"Why did you need my address?"
"To make sure you weren't an idiot, I mean, if your okay with that."
"Sure, I mean this is pretty usual." She smiled and sat down at my desk in a spinning chair, and I sat down at the end of my bed. It really was a small apartment.
"So," I said, "on a scale of one to ten, how much of an idiot am I so far?"
"I'd say... a six point five."
"Aww. You don't like me."
"You're the good type of idiot."
"What does that mean?"
She laughed, "It means that every time you do something idiotic like do your hair right before I walk in or grab a book I like to impress me I find it cute. Really cute."
Delilah's POV:
I wrote down his address on a post it, grabbed "An Abundance of Katherines", and headed out of my apartment.
"Where ya goin'?" Asked Emma, lying on the couch watching some documentary on a famous tattoo artist.
"A place, with a dude."
"K. Be back in a couple hours, I'm ordering Chinese."
"I have a time limit? God, how are you not my older sister?"
"Eh, it's close enough. See ya later!"
Emma really was a sister to me. She got me to where I am today.
At fourteen and sixteen, Emma being the oldest, we ran away from our homes, and got an apartment together (we had been saving money for years). We ate apples for like the first month away from home. It sorta sucked.
Then she got a job as a waitress and I started babysitting and we got more money. Eventually we saved up enough to do fun stuff, and when your a teenager, fun is equal to rebellion. We got piercings and dyed our hair and got matching tattoos from her cousin. It was like we were adults. And now, three years later, here we are.
Anyways, I left the apartment with my book and post it, and walked.
I knew the city inside and out, I didn't even need to look where I was going.
I opened my book and walked like that, using my post it as a bookmark, and read for maybe twenty minutes. I was on July Avenue, so I looked at the address numbers on the buildings. The building on my left had the numbers "1996" in metal attached to the brick wall.
This was the one.
I opened the door and walked up the stairs until I got to his apartment.
I knocked and heard running in the opposite direction of the door, and then steady footsteps towards the door.
Once the door was open he tried to make it look like he didn't know me. It was cute.
And then I walked inside and I proved him wrong. He was surprised. It was cute.
And at some point we looked at each other and he smiled because he knew I liked him. It was cute.
I like Luke. He may be sixty five percent idiot but Luke is one hundred percent cute.
