Imagination || L.H.

Chapter 21

Ashton grins as he grabs a roll off the table, pointing towards an older lady who has a ginormous hat sitting on top of her head. "Watch me make this into her hat," he whispers, a mischievous gleam entering his hazel eyes.

Michael and Calum lean forward intently, excited to see this go down.

I try to suppress my smile, shaking my head from side to side. "Ash, you can't throw that piece of bread at that poor old lady. If we get kicked out, Luke will be so upset that we didn't watch him perform."

The low buzz of voices talking over one another drifts throughout the room as background noise. Oliver's is a peaceful setting and it's easy to get lost in the comforting sights and sounds. I take a sip of my water, which is the only thing I ordered since I'm not hungry but felt the need to buy something, my eyes traveling over the little restaurant. 

Setting my drink down and hitting the three boys seated beside me in the arm, I exclaim, "He's starting, shut up."

Luke waves nervously at us as he climbs the stage, adjusting the microphone and the stool someone left on the stage for him. All around us, people turn to face him, voices dying in anticipation of the live show.

"Hi," Luke says into the mic, running his fingers along the frets of the guitar lovingly. "How's everyone doing tonight? I'm gonna sing a few songs, if that's alright with you guys."

He ducks his head, playing with his lip ring anxiously as he raises his hand to strum the guitar. The chord fills the room as he takes a deep breath and begins to sing. 

Everything fades away and there's only him. His voice is loud and clear, hitting all of the notes smoothly. When he sings, his fingers expertly playing the guitar to back up his vocals, it's like he's transported somewhere else. There's no hesitation in his voice, no insecurities shining in his eyes.

I could watch him sing all day.

As he starts finishing up, I stand up from the table and move around the room to get closer to the stage. My eyes are on Luke as he stows his guitar inside its case, completely oblivious to the guy sidling up to me.

"Hey," he greets with a dazzling smile. "I went to the same high school as you, remember? My name's Noah Evans." 

He brushes a strand of golden brown hair from out of his eyes; he's quite good-looking, all chiseled angles and muscles.

"Oh right!" I exclaim, recognizing him finally. "You were in my history class in senior year. You were the one who covered Mr. Trowley's classroom in sticky notes." 

I giggle, just remembering the expression on our teacher's face when he walked in the next morning.

"Yes!" Noah confirms with a wide smile on his face. 

His laughter dying down, he asks, "So where do you go now?"

"UCLA. You?"

He shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "Stanford, actually. I'm in town for the summer to see my family."

"Wow, Stanford, that's amazing! What are you studying?" I inquire curiously. Stanford is one of the best colleges in the country; for a boy who covered a teacher's classroom entirely in sticky notes for a prank, he's done surprisingly well.

Before he can answer, Luke comes up behind me and throws an arm around my shoulders. He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. 

"Hey," he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek. "Who's this?"

"This is Noah," I explain. "He went to our high school, remember?"

Luke's blue eyes have bits of ice in them as they size up Noah. "Oh, yeah, hey, man, how's it going?"

"Good." Noah smiles politely at Luke. "You were amazing up there, by the way."

"Thanks," the other boy mumbles. Turning to me, he murmurs, "C'mon, let's go."

I smile at Noah as Luke starts to drag me away. "We're gonna head out now. It was great seeing you again!"

"You too," he says with a soft smile.

As soon as we're out of Noah's line of sight, I spin around to face Luke. "What was that all about?" I ask.

"I don't like you talking to him." Luke's voice is as hard as steel, making me flinch. I've never heard him sound so cold before.

"Since when did you dictate who I get to talk to?" I demand, crossing my arms defiantly over my chest. Anger and disbelief bubble up inside of me. "We were just talking, it wasn't like I was hitting on him."

Luke rakes a hand through his blond hair, scowling. "But he was hitting on you." 

At my surprised expression he adds, "C'mon, Kat, he obviously likes you. Do I not get to be just the least bit worried?"

I throw my arms up into the air in exasperation. "Of course you can be worried. But you can't tell me who I can hang out with and who I can't. If I want to talk to Noah, I'll talk to Noah. There's nothing you can do to stop me."

His jaw clenched, he whirls around, slamming his fist against the wall. His eyes blazing, he whips back around. "Fine, then, if you want to be with him, be with him."

I take a step back. "Maybe I will," I throw back venomously.

Luke turns away from me, but I see the heartbreak in his eyes. His hands clench into fists at his sides and his voice is colder than ice when he speaks. "Leave, then."

Shaking my head from side to side, anger the only thing fueling me, I turn around and stalk out of the little cafe. 

How dare he think that he can control every aspect of my life? In relationships you're supposed to support each other and be there for them. Not tell them who they can and can't hang out with. It's not a monarchy, it's a partnership. And if he can't see that... then maybe we weren't meant to be together.