5 Seconds Of Summer Imagines

Luke Imagine

I walk through the crowds of sweaty people, watching them gyrate upon one another, and I quickly try to find sanctuary in the overly crowded and loud house. I've never been here before. A friend dragged me - as always - and I have no idea where to go in this large house. It's like a manor house out of a classic novel, just not as beautiful. Which is a shame as it has so much potential.

"What?"

I turn on my heel to see a tall boy, blonde hair styled upwards, and wearing a lip ring that he plays with using his teeth. I've never seen him before and I have no idea if he is talking to me or not. Well, he must be, I'm alone on the veranda.

"Sorry?"

"You said the house isn't beautiful. Why?"

"Ummm," I stumble over my words, not sure how to structure a sentence without seeming like an arse, "Well, it is. Don't get me wrong, it's a beautiful house, but there's other houses that are better."

He leans against the wooden barrier, folding his arms, and looking at me in a way that makes me feel vulnerable. He's not just looking at me, but in me. Like he can see my mind, thoughts and soul.

"Like what?"

"What?"

He smirks slightly at my flustered and confused state. I can't even remember what we had been talking about. My mind keeps drifting just looking at him.

"What other houses are better than this house?" I chew my lip and look up at the house, the large expanse of white looking dull in the night sky. He chuckles and continues in a sarcastic manner, "Don't worry. It won't hear you, it won't get all insecure or think that you've hurt its feelings."

He holds a hand over his heart and continues to smirk at me. I narrow my eyes at him as he mocks me, not feeling like I want to be sticking around him much longer. He's beginning to annoy me.

"You read any Jane Austen?"

He raises one of his brows, looking at me as if I'm completely mental, and his jaw drops slightly as he shakes his head.

"You're comparing my house to a fictional house in some shitty romance?"

"Shitty romance?" I scoff loudly. He is more than annoying me now, "I'll have you know that the majority of Jane Austen's work is ranked as the best romance, best fictional, and best literature in the entire
world. It's not 'shitty' as you call it. It has depth, meaning and a purpose. Unlike this conversation."

I turn away, walking back into the house, and start to make my way back through the crowd in order to leave this godforsaken house. I have no idea where my friends are - not that I care - I just want to get home and out of here. Away from him.

I finally stumble out of the front door, screams and laughter heard back in the house, and I walk through the fresh, night air towards the end of the drive to walk to the bus stop.

"Hey, stop!"

I don't listen to the irritatingly familiar voice. Not wanting to jump into another discussion about tastes.

"Hey," a hand grabs my arm and spins me around to face them. Sure enough, the blonde haired, blue eyed, beautiful boy is in front of me, "I was shouting you as soon as you walked off."

"And I was ignoring you. Now that we have that covered, can I go?"

I smirk at him the same way that he was doing to me on the veranda. He looks slightly taken aback at my attitude, but I'm never one to shy away when it comes to being smart mouthed or stating my opinion.

"Err, no?"

"You not sure?" I challenge him, his refusal of letting me leave sounding more like a question, "Well, whilst you decide that, I'll keep walking."

He stops me again whilst saying no, grabbing my arm in a way that I hate, and I grumble under my breath and mutter a few swear words at the nameless boy that is pissing me off.

"You always this temperamental?"

"I'd prefer to call it passionate."

I shrug my shoulder as he finally lets me arm go, his falling down by
his side again, and he smiles down at me in a way where I feel insecure and vulnerable again. Like I'm naked and bare in front of him.

"Can you stop looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

I roll my eyes. There is no way he doesn't know what he's doing. He probably does it plenty of girls, all willing to jump into his bed, but I'm not one of them.

"Like you're looking into my soul and can read my damn mind."

"Far from it. You're like a closed book. It's bugging me, actually, not knowing anything about you." He chews on his lower lip as he observes me, my cheeks flushing under his gaze as he mutters, "People are usually so easy to read."

"Well, I'm sorry I'm not one of your usual phony lot that are predictable."

I gesture back to the house full of clones in designer clothing and overly fake tanned skin. He smiles at my thinly veiled insult, holding out his hand in between us.

"I'm Luke."

I put my hand into his hand, his large hand clasping my petite one, and the warmth is felt all the way to my bones.

"Hi Luke."

He raises his brows, not letting go of my hand.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"When you introduce yourself to someone, they tend to respond with their name as well."

I reluctantly remove my hand from his, shoving it back into my jacket pocket, and I shrug my shoulders.

"No can do."

"You're really not going to tell me your name?"

He laughs in disbelief as I slowly start stepping away from him, still looking at the shock written across his face. This must be the first time someone's ever put their foot down with him.

"No. Bye, Luke."