player ♚ lrh

17 - admit it

Luke was really close to punching Ashton in the face.

Which is saying something, considering the boy was always hovering on the edge of losing his cool. It was a defense mechanism, and a fairly good one at that, in Luke's opinion.

But it was also sort of a cover up, because the real person Luke wanted to hit was the same one staring back at him in the mirror. Unfortunately, Luke couldn't do that to himself without the uninvited guest hovering in his bathroom doorway deeming him as some kind of crazy person.

Was he crazy? He felt like it. He felt like he was going insane, and he wished he could say the source wasn't a little brunette who slept with way too many blankets and liked to use pinky promises as her primary basis of trust.

But it was. And he couldn't stop thinking about her.

"So, where were you the other night?"

Luke spit out the toothpaste in his mouth, turning to glare at the boy with light brown curls and smug grin that he wished he could wipe off. "Just because you keep asking doesn't mean you're getting closer to an answer,"

Ashton grinned. "I'll try my luck,"

"The only thing you're trying is my goddamn patience," Luke muttered, rinsing his mouth and brushing harshly past the boy in the doorway.

Rolling his eyes, Ashton followed the blond into his bedroom. "Right," he snorted. "I forgot how notoriously patient you are."

"Ashton?"

"Hmm?"

"Fuck off."

The boy shook his head, watching as a shirtless Luke fumbled impatiently with the expensive shirts and button ups in his closet. He was amused; he has been ever since he showed up to the penthouse with a crooked grin, a boatload of questions, and a quick foot wedging between the door that a scowling Luke tried immediately to shut.

It didn't work, clearly, seeing as the boy has been following a bitter Luke from room to room, prodding him with questions that the blond tried desperately to ignore. In reality, all it did was cement a certain girl even further into his thoughts.

"You're getting a little defensive, Luke," Ashton mocked, cocking his head to the side. "Something you wanna get off your chest?"

Yes. "No. Fuck you."

Luke couldn't even pick out a goddamn shirt without the girl coming to mind. He found himself wondering what she'd look like wearing the material under his fingertips, paired with his jacket that she already had.

Pretty, he thought. She'd look really fucking pretty.

It's never been something he bothered to picture, girls wearing his clothes, that is. Yet, as he slipped a pricey, white, collared shirt off its hanger, all he could think about was draping it delicately over Elise's shoulders, crouching down and slowly—so slowly—pushing the buttons into place for her, one by one. And maybe he'd let his fingers wander on her skin just to hear her gasp, and maybe she wouldn't be wearing anything underneath—

Stop.

He shut his eyes tightly for a moment, suppressing a groan. This is why he hadn't let himself think about her, or let his thoughts run wild, ever since he'd met her. It's the reason he was going insane, because now he had no choice. She was already in his head, comfortably perched in his thoughts, probably surrounded by too many blankets and probably doing that thing where she smiles but tries to hide it by pursing her lips and—fucking hell, you really need to stop.