Stay (Punk Luke Hemmings)

Chapter 8

My fingers spasm in my lap, almost knocking the camera on my lap onto the floor. Each breath feels forced, as if breathing has become second to the anger and humiliation I’m feeling.

“You know, for a journalist, you’re taking this article kinda seriously.” Niall observes through a mouth full of food, gesturing to the magazine innocently lying in front of me.

“I honestly thought you knew, I didn’t mean to start anything, I just-“ Louis rubs the back of his head sheepishly, not happy to be the bearer of bad news.

“You didn’t do anything, Lou, I’m glad you showed me. Better from you than him.” I hiss out through my teeth, the pizza in front of me now looking about as appetizing as cardboard.

It was one of the rare nights Chris had assigned me an article on One Direction, so I’d been hanging out with the boys on one of the scarce Friday nights there wasn’t a concert, taking photos and jotting down notes occasionally. It’d been a week and a half since the night of the first concert when Luke and I had lost it, and since then, it had been calm, both of us avoiding the other, doing our jobs separately. Or so I had thought.

Its not that I cared that Luke was having sex with someone other than me. It would have surprised me if he hadn’t. What I cared about was being compared to these other rumored one-night stands or brief girlfriends, our pictures splashed across the bright pages of a trashy teen magazine, surrounding a picture of Luke smirking. I was definitely not fucking him at the moment. The magazine article had come out yesterday, and apparently everyone knew about it but me. When Louis had chortled something about me and Luke and a magazine, I’d been confused. With a flourish, he had presented me with the article, thinking I’d already seen it.

I hadn’t.

And being called the least of Luke’s conquests, a blast from the past, as if it was a competition for him, from the last 2 week was grating. The picture of us fighting in the rain last week took up almost a whole page, a smaller picture of us from 2 years ago that I didn’t even know existed in the corner. Opposite those were pictures of Luke kissing the neck of a pretty youtuber who came to the concert the day after our fight, a guitar player in an up and coming girl punk band that had been in the same hotel as us 4 days ago, and a ballerina he’d met in the bar across the street 6 days ago. All kissing, but in none of the pictures was Luke kissing their lips. The article went over all of us, wondering which one of us was the ‘best in the sack.’

If I hadn’t been so angry, I would’ve started crying. Hard and ugly crying. Or laughing. Or both.

Concerned at my silence, Niall hesitantly reaches out a hand and places it on my shoulder, my eyes still fixed upon the words blurring in front of me.

“C’mon, Andy, you know that article is bullshit, a trashy magazine made to make everything look bad. You’re a journalist, you should know that.”

I shake off his hand, rising to my feet, and starting to pace in the limited space of the hotel room. “It is. But its still offensive. If Luke wants to get some, more power to him, but he doesn’t have to drag me in too. I don’t want to be known as Luke Hemmings’ conquest of last week, because I’m not.”

“Love, no one is going to take the article seriously.” Louis placates.

“That’s not the point. Goddamit, I need to clear my head.” I make for the door, leaving the camera and notes on the table, but my way is blocked by a quick moving Niall.

“Hell no, you’re not going out for a run in this weather. Its pouring and its cold. If you start sneezing, I can’t be around you. Do something else. Go lift some weights in the weight room, or go swimming, or something. Just don’t go outside, okay? Clear your head or whatever. By the way, you should stop letting Luke get to you so much, I thought you said you were over him.”