Scarred| luke hemmings

✄ two ✄

☹ Luke ☹

It had been almost 4 days since the roof incident, and I hadn't seen Agatha around. I'd hoped she hadn't done something she'd regret, I, myself, had a tendency to do that. I'd made mistakes and regrets throughout my entire life, and I still haven't learnt.

Homecoming Enthusiasts. I despised homecoming, and that wasn't just because I never got a date. I didn't see the point in it, we already had dances and prom, why the need for another excuse to dress up? My mum always made me wear a tux, the itchy kind. Somehow, there was always a problem with it each year; a hole in the trousers, the trouser leg was too short, the blazer was too small, or the shirt was missing a button. It wasn't my fault that I was tall, with broad shoulders, blame my mother and father for the grand job. Homecoming was in a matter of weeks, and the committee were at the top of their game (no surprise).

"Hey, Luke," Addison Clarke approached me. She was the co-leader of the committee, and she was decent looking, I guess, not really my type. "Have you got a date to the dance, yet?" She asked. I thought for a moment, I was debating whether to ask Agatha, but we'd only just met, and I wasn't even thinking of going.

"Not yet," I said, and her face somehow lit up. "I'm not sure if I'm even going to come this year."

"What? No, you have to, I haven't got a date either," she shrugged. "We could, you know," I knew exactly what she meant.

"I'm flattered but," easy or harsh? "you aren't really my type," she nodded, clutching her clipboard to her chest and then wandered off. Dick. After that, I made my way to my bike. My parents didn't trust me to drive, so they gave me a bike instead, but they promised if I looked after it for 2 years, I might get a car. In other words, you'll never drive your own car, and when you do it won't be far.

"Did you just turn down Addison Clarke?" An unfamiliar boy's voice piped up from behind me. I turned to see a tanned looking boy, a surprised expression on his face. I nodded, moving to follow his movements towards his own bike. "So she's, like, completely free?" I nodded again and he sighed. "I'm Calum, by the way," he held out a hand.

"Luke," I shook his hand before sorting the lock on my bike out. "So, do you like her or?" I trailed, he turned a crimson colour and shrugged. "Ask her, I'm pretty sure she'll say yes," I reassured him and he smiled, but it soon faded. He was clearly thinking more about the negatives than the positives. "Look," I placed a hand in his shoulder. "I've got regrets, wishing I'd done things differently, but one of them is not asking out a girl and finding out she actually liked me," he stared, listening intently.

"Did you end up with her?" He asked, treating me like a storyteller. I shook my head, frowning slightly.

"Nope," I breathed. "She fell for some dick," Calum laughed. "So, go ask her out, alright?" He nodded frantically and ran up to her. That was my queue to leave, before he'd follow me home and insist on me going to his house, and trying out his mums brownies. I was about half way home, before I accidentally hit into someone, causing the both of us to fly onto the sidewalk. I'd fallen off my bike and the girl lay at my side.

"Jackass," she muttered. She sat up, rubbing her forehead. I sat up beside her, staring at her face. "Is it really that bad?" She panicked. That's when her eyes widened, most likely only just noticing it was me.

"Sorry," I stood up and helped her to her feet. "I was listening to music," I shrugged. She laughed, brushing off her clothes.

"Calvin Harris isn't even that good," she said honestly, I nodded in agreement.

"I was actually listening to Blink," I corrected her. She looked impressed, smiling slightly. "I'm guessing you like them?"

"They're good," she stated. "But, I like a lot of bands."

"Me too," her smile grew.

"Are you still free to do that talking session thing?" She asked, I'd hoped she hadn't forgotten about our deal. I needed the person to talk to, and she just seemed to understand from the looks of it.

"Yeah, I'm practically always free," I joked. "Mine or yours?"

"I'd like you to meet my parents," she spoke emotionless. "My house."