Mrs All American ❅ Luke Hemmings

Old Friends

Chapter 7 - Old Friends

We were currently sitting on Michael's bed, eating popcorn and watching The Giver. I love that movie.

"Wait," Mikey said for the hundredth time. "I don't get it. Why did those police guys chase after Fiona? I thought they were supposed to get Jonas." He puzzled, tilting his head to the side.

I rolled my eyes. "She's distracting them."

He shook his head. "I still don't get it."

I grabbed a pizza pillow (this boy has like, ten round pillows with a pizza face on it and all ten has different toppings) and threw it at his face.

It hit him directly in the face. Score! Michael growled playfully. "Oh, its on!" he declared, grabbing a pillow with Hawaiian toppings. He threw it at me, I ducked, a maniacal laugh escaping me.

"You won't win this time, Clifford!" I jumped off the bed, retreating behind the couch he had in his room. I grabbed a nearby pillow (it had pepperoni toppings) and threw it. Michael dodged it and threw another pizza pillow my way. I yelped, ducking. The pillow flew over my head, hitting the wall. I poked my head back up. Mikey and I narrowed our eyes at each other.

"This means war." We spoke in unison.

Thus, how a pillow fight started in the Clifford household.

In ten minutes, we were still at war. Michael had moved his bed around a bit so that he could take cover between the bed and the bedroom wall.

"Give up?" He asked, smirking.

"Never!" I responded, throwing another pillow at his head.

The pillows flew back and forth until Michael's mom knocked on the door, walking in. "Hey, kids-" She froze when she saw our little 'battlefield'. A grin replaced her shocked face pretty quickly, "Having fun?"

"Mother!" Michael exclaimed, mocking shock. "We're in the middle of a war, this is no laughing matter!" He stated, thumping his fist on the bedsheets.

"Really? What countries are you portraying?" She grinned, glancing at me.

I stood up and saluted. "The Kingdom of Arendelle, ma'am! Queen Elsa salutes you!" I joked.

Mikey sent me a look. "Aren't you a little too old for Disney cartoons?"

I sent him another look back. "Aren't you a little too old for pizza pillows?" I retorted.

"Touché." He smirked.

"Oh! I just remembered. I came here to say, Luke is asking for you, Rose, dear. He said he needs to talk to you. He's waiting in the living room right now." Mrs. Clifford smiled kindly at me.

He needs to talk to me? Well, this should be awkward.

"Err, okay." I nodded numbly, dropped the pillow in my hand and headed downstairs.

I saw Luke sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. "Luke?" I called gently. He lifted his head to look at me.

"I-I'm sorry, Rose." He stuttered out, his blue eyes looking down at the floor. "I told you that I was going to take you out but instead, you see me kissing another girl. You must hate me right now."

I smiled weakly. "I don't hate you, and besides, she kissed you. I'm not stupid," A memory crossed my mind and I added, "Unlike some Wattpad characters . . . Always assuming things before asking the main character, geez." I mumbled.

Luke smiled, eyes on me once more

I frowned. "What?

"You look so cute when you say random shit."