play the game | l.h [on hold]

20. don't have sex!

DON'T HAVE SEX!

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"Oh, fuck me," Luke groaned, falling back onto the bed with his eyes clenched shut.

Giggling, Blake lightly hit his knee with the back of her hand as she sent him a cheeky grin. "I think you forgot how good I was."

The boy rolled his blue eyes with an exaggerated scoff before sitting up. "Hardly. You're good but you're not that good," he teased.

Quirking an eyebrow at his challenging words, she smirked. "Another round, then?"

"We still have..." he trailed off as he briefly looked at his phone to check the time. "Twenty minutes before you need to leave. That's more than enough time."

"Just don't be too loud. I don't want another noise complaint."

"You?" He asked incredulously. "This is my room. I'm the one who's gonna get in trouble."

"Then stop yelling," she laughed, holding out the black controller that he'd thoughtlessly tossed onto the bed amidst his juvenile fit. "Okay; Infection or Hunted?"

"Hunted, one hundred percent," he nodded eagerly, taking the controller from her. "Infection sucks."

"I don't think it sucks, Hunted is just better," she countered with a shrug, turning her attention to the television screen.

The boy shook his head. "Hunted is the best."

A week and a half have passed since Luke gave her the gifts he'd been overly insistent on buying. The days following consisted of the two playing split screen with one another whenever time and space permitted -- it was aggravatingly difficult to do while on a tour bus with four other people breathing down their neck, but they made do.

As soon as Myles figured out what was going on, he began to relentlessly tease her about it. She was sure that the band was doing the same to Luke, yet neither one of them mentioned a thing about it.

The two were currently sitting on the queen sized bed in the boy's hotel room in Brussels, playing Black Ops 3. It was their travel day, and although they only flew the short one hour flight from Plymouth, Blake was still rather tired. Despite her fatigue, she'd made an effort to hang out with Luke for at least a little while. While their jobs required them to spend quite a bit of time together, playing Xbox was the only time they truly hung out -- neither one of them initiated anything more.

"You're fucking cheating," Luke complained childishly.

"You know, you keep saying that, yet you still have no proof."

Shaking his head, his eyes were still focused on the screen as the match was still going. "You're just getting so many kills." Blake noticed the slightest pout on his face and couldn't decipher if it was from the deep concentration, or the fact that she was beating him by a long shot. Either way, she thought it was unbelievably adorable.

"We're on the same team, Luke. That's a good thing," she laughed.

The round ended soon thereafter, their team winning by a total of thirty four points. "Damn," Luke sighed, exiting out of the match. He placed the controller on the bed in between him and Blake, before slowly laying back on the duvet with his hands behind his head.

She knew that he was tired — there was no way he wasn't. Touring was exhausting; spending almost every night in a new city and working nonstop. Sure, she was doing the same, but her work wasn't nearly as strenuous as his and she couldn't help but feel sympathetic when it began to take its physical toll on the boy.