player ♚ lrh

06 - guilt

Luke woke up the next morning feeling guilty.

For a couple reasons; one being his blatant lie to Ashton, of whom Luke knew wholeheartedly would've been disappointed to hear the truth. When they met at the club last night, Luke had lied straight through his teeth, telling his friend that he had, in fact, spoke to Cole. To which Ashton looked surprised, uttered a 'really?' and Luke could only nod tensely. He only added fuel to the lie by claiming that the talk went well, lying once more that he'd smoothed things over.

He had only wanted to get Ashton off his back, and maybe to buy himself some time without the threat of his friend's disappointment looming over his shoulder. But, as he does quite often, Luke had chosen instead to make things worse for himself.

The second reason was one Luke couldn't fathom; he didn't want to admit it, and he certainly didn't want to dwell on it. But it stuck—like a tick in the back of his brain—from the moment he walked out of the coffee shop.

He had been so rude to such a sweet girl.

And another thing, Luke also woke up angry—for the second this reality hit him it had undeniably pissed him off. He couldn't put his finger on why, exactly, but the interaction didn't sit well with him.

For one, she should've told him to fuck off. Or, at the very least, graced him with the same cold attitude that he'd brought in to the warm atmosphere. But she hadn't—and a small, minuscule part of Luke expected it from the start, despite the fact that her gentle nature left him utterly baffled. But of course he knew she wouldn't; he knew it the second his harsh eyes landed on her soft ones from where she stood in between Calum and Cole at the club.

And two, he knew she'd heard of him. From the moment he walked in, she had known who he was—at least, from whatever string of bullshit Calum had etched into her mind. She was too obvious, too nervous around him, and Luke caught on right away. He didn't know exactly to what extent Calum had told her about him, nor did he know if he'd been truthful with his words.

What he did know, is that he had an undying urge to beat the shit out of the boy.

He broke the rules. Luke justified his thoughts. He told her my name. Of course, he didn't know this for sure, but he'd had a sneaking suspicion from the second she'd innocently asked 'what's your name?' And judging by the way her eyes had widened and her lips had parted when he voiced this—he knew he'd been right from the start.

Scoffing to himself, he pulled his exhausted body from the shower. It was uncertain how long he'd been in there, but Luke would've been fine soaking under the hot streams for about 12 hours. It felt good; the slight burning sensation on his skin and the overwhelming feeling of his muscles relaxing for the first time in a long while. He was sore, pent up, and he was sleep deprived beyond repair.

And the moment he'd begun to relax, he worked himself up in his head all over again.

His phone had been going off all morning, at least until Luke made the executive decision to switch off the ringer and toss it across the room. He knew exactly who was calling, and he had no intention of speaking to the person unless he deemed it absolutely necessary. And right now, when Luke had a million things plaguing his mind, it simply wasn't the time.

There had also been someone knocking at his door since he'd first stepped into the shower, but Luke knew who that was too, and he couldn't care less about making them wait. So, with his jeans unzipped and his torso bare, he swung open his front door with a scowl.

"What?"

Ashton only rolled his eyes. "Already? You're already being a dickhole?"