His & Mine | Sequel to Make It Known | DISCONTINUED

Chapter Six: Love

Chapter Six: Love

***

Luke:

"Dad, what time are you guys gonna get back?"

"Midnight? Not sure, lad. Why?" He glances up from the kitchen island where he's busy sorting through today's mail.

"Uh, no reason."

He makes a small grumbling sound at the back of his throat, spears my eyes with his knowing, shrewd Dad-gaze. "Are you going out?"

"Nope."

A pause. He tears open a plain white envelope, not looking at me when he asks, "Having people over?"

"Uh. Ophelia might come by to watch a movie. I'll order a pizza or something."

A grunt of acknowledgement. Another brief pause before he asks, "Do her parents know that your mum and I aren't going to be home?"

I reach an arm to scratch the back of my neck, not meeting his eyes. "I told her, so, she probably mentioned it."

I'm trying to slowly edge my way out of the kitchen when Mum's voice says from behind me, half amused and half unimpressed, "Just be safe, okay, handsome? No drinking, because she's probably driving. And I know we haven't talked about it in a while, but make sure you use a con—"

"Mum! Jesus. We're not... Why does everyone think we're... We're not, okay?"

She laughs, ruffles my hair affectionately, walks past me to go sift through the mail with Dad. "Just saying. I remember how I was at your guys' age..."

"Gross. Didn't need to know that."

She winks at me, nudges Dad with her elbow. "Your father was worse."

That much I've learned.

I turn around, about to make an exit, when Dad says, "Don't mess the couch, yeah? Keep it in the bedroom."

"Dad!"

"I'm just teasing. Fee's only sixteen, Luke. Try to be responsible, yeah?"

"I know."

"Good."

***

Ophelia gets here just before six, a little while before my parents leave. I open the door for her, notice that her cheeks are pink from the cold. My heart beats a little faster, starts pounding a little harder at the sight of her, at the bright smile she gives me when she sees me.

"Hey, Luke."

"Hey, Feelz."

She pulls her jacket off, hangs it on the rack by the door. She's wearing a light grey dress, short sleeves, that hugs her waist and flows just to the middle of her thighs. She loves dresses.

I love them too.

She steps towards me, leans towards me, and I slip an arm around her, pull her against my chest, put my lips to her forehead. Damn, she feels good. And smells good. And I know she tastes good, too. "I'm gonna order a pizza. What kind do you want?"