Men's Socks - Luke Hemmings

t e n [ p a r t t w o ]

Friday 9th November (still)

Knocking on Luke's door wasn't as hard as I'd expected. Normally I find doing this really hard because I don't know who's going to be behind the door: but I knew for certain it was Luke.

And I like Luke.

"Hey, Gee, come on in." He smiles as soon as he sees me standing there, "I like your clothes. I mean, I only ever see you in school uniform and that time in a Minnie Mouse dress."

"Thank you." I beam, even if all I was wearing was a pair of black leggings, an oversized sweater, a denim jacket and a pair of high top converse.

He lead me into the kitchen, where he offered me a drink of Coca-Cola, to which I said yes to. We then went to the living room next, where he'd set up FIFA and beanbags.

"So you've never played FIFA?" He asks, handing me a controller as I sit down onto the red beanbag, as he sits on to blue. I shake my head, "ok, so this button is to run. This one is to shoot, and etcetera. You'll pick it up."

"Great teaching, Luke." I laugh sarcastically as the game loads and I concentrate on the illuminated screen in front of me.

--

Halfway through the evening, I'd actually beaten Luke. As incredible and unimaginable as that may sound, it actually happened.

So, maybe he had beaten me at least thirty times, but on my first attempts I'd beaten him.

"Hah, Gee, you suck at this game!" He'd chuckle light heartedly.

"Excuse me, but I beat you."

"That was one time." And it'd continue like that for a while. Luke and I had decided to call it a night with the FIFA, and do something else.

"What should we do? You're the guest so you get to decide." Luke grinned.

"Hmm... What did you have in mind?" I honestly didn't mind, and even though everyone says that, it was true. Doing nothing with Luke would still probably be fun.

"We could watch a fil-" he was cut off by his phone ringing, and cringed when he saw the caller ID which made me curious, "hi, Chantelle.." He faked enthusiasm. I couldn't hear what 'Chantelle' was saying down the phone line, sadly, so I didn't know what the conversation was about. My mum always calls me nosy, to which I guess she is right. "No, you can't come round. I'm busy."

There's a pause, "I'm with a friend. And no, you don't know her."

I can hear a slightly raised voice, as Luke replies, sighing, "no, Chantelle, am I not allowed to have friends? Friends who are girls?" He grumbles, "you don't own me. So, for the last time, you can't come round and if you knock on my door I won't answer it."

He slams his iPhone onto the coffee table, his forehead creased, "I'm sorry." I say quietly.

"What for?" His irritated expression turns into a soft but confused one. I fiddled with my fingers, trying to occupy myself.

"Because I just stopped out from seeing your girlfriend, right?" I asked, looking to where he was stood in the middle of the room, "I can leave, it's okay, if you want your girlfriend here instead?"

"I don't want my girlfriend here: I want you."