Life In Different Colors (A Lashton Fic)

Chapter Seven

A/N Um, hello! If you're reading this because you've been here since literally almost a year ago when I started this fic then I just want to say you're the best person on this planet. I know I said I was taking a hiatus but I did promise I would finish this fic. I know this was a super short update and I've kept you all waiting for literally months but I am really starting to get into this story again so maybe some of you are actually going to read it who knows. Anyways...

When I wake up the next morning Luke isn't laying next to me like I half expected him to. I'm kind of relived that he isn't, but the feeling of nervousness still lingers.

I roll out of bed and walk into the kitchen to make coffee. I lean against the counter and wait for the machine to start working when I notice a figure on the side porch. I walk over to the sliding glass door.

"Hey." I say softly.

Luke is smoking a cigarette. His hair is messy and he looks tired.

"Hey." He still smiles at me though.

Seeing him I suddenly feel guilty and confused. Did we actually kiss or was that a dream? Does he remember it?

"How are you feeling?" I ask, knowing he probably has at least a headache.

"I've been better but I've also been a lot worse." He laughs at himself while blowing smoke from his lips. God Ashton, stop looking at a sixteen year olds mouth that way.

The mouth that kissed you last night, my subconscious adds.

"So last night..." I trail off, hoping Luke will say something and I'll know how much he remembers.

"I kissed you didn't I?" He asks.

Well, that answers my questions.

"Yeah, I'm re-" he starts to speak again but I cut him off.

"You're sixteen and I'm twenty two, I shouldn't have let that happen." My words come out more and rushed and less confident than I intended.

He starts laughing. "I'm not trying to date you. I was drunk. It was an accident." He shrugs.

"Oh." I say and sit down next to him. "Okay."

"Sorry for taking up your bed and causing you any trouble or whatever." He puts the cigarette out and throws it in the trees.

"You weren't to bad." I tease.

He lifts his middle finger to me with a grin and I laugh.

"I should go though." He stands up. "Work and all."

I don't stand up with him, just give him a smile and watch him leave.

I don't know why I feel like I was just ditched when the front door closes.

Later that day, when writing, my main character picks up a smoking habit.