Luke.
"C'mon, man," Michael begged, swatting my arm with the back of his hand multiple times. He had been invited to a New Year's Eve party by his friend Jace, I think, and after I kindly declined (not so much kindly, actually, now that I think about it I may have told him to fuck off like, four times), he still isn't taking no for an answer.
I haven't been to a party in such a long time. The last time I went to a house party, I recall, would be when I was early eighteen. I ran all the way home to my aunt after some random dude with red hair yelled at me in a drunken state, asking me if I wanted a drink or not. I couldn't stop myself from breathing so harshly, until I got in the shower, having the steam drown away the fear and anxiety.
"Why? Why s'it so important to attend anyways? Why can't we all just go out? You know, a night out on New Years Eve?" I complained, I really didn't want to remake what happened last time.
"But October's coming. Don't you want to be there with her? To kiss her when the clock strikes twelve? Besides, s'not that bad anymore, right man?" He was right, I never felt as anxious than I did before October came; before my muse walked into my life and instead of me being the artist, she took the brush right out of my hands and painted me, painted me with better colours and outlines, giving me a much better purpose that what I had been before.
I sighed, rubbing my forehead and crinkled my nose to one side. "Alright. But if you force me into doing anything stupid 'cause I know you'll try, I'm out." I warned, and he cheered, slapping me on the back and pumping his fists.
"C'mon, man, promise I won't. Scout's honour. Now, let's go look good, shall we?"
~~~
October.
The boys were all at Luke's apartment after I kicked Michael out so I could get ready myself. I stuck with a two piece black dress, the skirt's hem going about a few inches above my knee. I didn't want to dress too fancy, sparkles and glitter make-up and all, so I just stuck with a smokey eye look and some red lipstick. What a great way to start off 2015, too lazy to actually attempt to look good for the start of the year, who's with me?
Just as I finished getting my heels on (and not easily, at that), there was a knock on the door, signalling the boys were ready. I took one last look at my reflection, fixing my curls and straightening out my top, then walked to the door.
I opened it to an excited looking Ashton, whose eyes widened as the spotted me, eyeing me from my shoes to the top of my head and I blushed, looking away uncomfortably. He cleared his throat awkwardly, moving to the side to show Luke leaning against the railing. When his eyes met mine, his reaction was so similar to Ashton's, making me laugh inwardly.
"I- uhm, you- you look nice." He stuttered, still taking a good look at me and I giggled, taking a hold of his arm around mine and rolling my eyes. "You look nice too. The simple look is obviously the best," I beamed, admiring his black t-shirt hidden under a red flannel. I could tell by the look on his face he was hiding something, an emotion or some sort, I just couldn't figure it out.
"I would have to disagree on that, baby," he muttered into my ear, his hand trailing my lower back and I shivered at his touch. He seemed different tonight, and I liked it.
"Hands to yourself, Hemmings." Calum scolded, brushing passed us and grimacing. "Not until we get there, anyway." And with that, he rushed down the stairs and jumped off, skipping the last three steps, with a giddy Michael trailing after him.
