play the game | l.h [on hold]

15. concert time!

CONCERT TIME!

━

This must be a fucking joke. This must be a fucking joke. This must be a fuck—

"Um, hey." Luke's voice cut through the air and broke the silence, his tone wavering with notes of nervousness.

"Hi," Blake greeted with a small, friendly smile. The air surrounding the two adults was full of tension and discomfort, the hot coffee dripping from her hand only intensifying the overwhelming feeling.

Due to the sunglasses perched on the bridge of his perfectly pointed nose, she was unable to decipher where his eyes were focused.

Embarrassingly enough, hers were on his lips.

"Oh God, your hand, I'm so sorry." His words scrambled from his mouth as he used his free hand to grab a small stack of napkins from the table behind her.

"Oh, thanks," she said quietly.

The tips of his fingers gently grazed her soft skin as he took the mug from her, the trivial touch sending a chill up her spine. In replacement of the mug, he gave her the napkins, to which she muttered another soft spoken thank you.

After cleaning up the spill, she tossed the napkins in the trash bin beside them before turning back to Luke. "I can take the cup now," she spoke, gesturing to the mug in which he still held in one of his hands.

Luke was silent in response, his face almost expressionless. Her gaze flickered between his shielded eyes, looking for any indication that he had listened to the words she said. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Blake wanted to laugh, but her raging headache prohibited her from doing so. "I said I can take the cup now," she smiled in amusement.

"Oh, right! Of course, I'm sorry."

He handed her the cup, his actions slow and careful to ensure that there wouldn't be another accident. She gave him a tight smile before looking down at her hands, unsure of where to take this uncomfortably awkward encounter.

"This is—"

"I don't—"

The duo spoke simultaneously, cutting themselves off as quick as they started. "You go first," she beckoned him gently.

Luke laughed lightly. "This is so awkward, I'm sorry."

"It's only awkward if you make it awkward, Hemmings."

Despite her confident semblance, she was drowning in the unpleasantness of the entire morning; the painful hangover and now the even more painful run-in with the tall blond who left her alone in her hotel room before she woke up — she was bitter due to the fact but decided to leave well enough alone.

He brought his hand to scratch the back of his neck. "Yeah," he spoke in uncertainty.

"Do you wanna sit with me?" She asked, mentally slapping herself as soon as the words fell past her lips. "I — I'm having breakfast over there, if you wanna join," she gestured to the furthest booth where her plate resided.

Luke turned his attention to the table in question before looking back to her. "Yeah, sure."

"Cool." With a nod, she began to drag her feet toward the table, deeming the minuscule task to be more difficult than usual.

She took her place on one side of the booth, but Luke didn't follow. Instead, he placed the grocery bag on the table before pulling off his sunglasses with hesitation — she noticed him wince as soon as his eyes met the light, and immediately arrived at the conclusion that his hangover was just as bad as hers, if not worse.