Try Hard

2

"What to wear...what to wear..." I muttered to myself. I searched through my closet, feeling frustrated and annoyed.

Picking up my phone, I texted Ashton.

To Ashton:

What do I wear? Whose house?

From Ashton:'

Whatever. Causal. Michael Clifford's.

Letting out a groan, I flop backwards onto my bed.

Why did I ever agree to this?

**

Pulling a black t-shirt over my head, I don't bother looking in the mirror.

Black jeans. black pants. Black hightops. A gray beenie. Not much to see.

Grabbing my phone, I kissed my mum goodbye and waited on my front step for Ashton.

Eventually (within 7 minutes), he pulled up.

"Sorry dude. My mum went through curfew rules."

I roll my eyes, sitting down in the passenger seat. Typical Ashton. Late.

"Luke, aren't you pumped?" He asked as he screeched to stop at a stop sign.

I sigh. "Totally."

Ashton rolls his eyes. "Just let yourself be happy. For once."

"I'm happy!" I said defensively. "When I want to be."

"Exactly."

"When's your curfew anyway?"

"1 AM."

I grin. "Mines 2."

"Damn Liz. Here I was thinking she was the protective one."

"That's Mrs. Hemmings to you."

"Whatever man."

We sit in silence for a while as I stared out the window.

The outside zipped by, and soon was disturbed by loud music and chants of unruly teens.

"C'mon Luke. Do it for me, okay?" Ashton pleaded. "This may be it, let's just live a little."

I stared at Ashton, searching his face for any emotion other than irritation and hope.

Sighing, I unbuckled my seatbelt, opening the door.

Ashton stayed seated watching me intently.

I smirked, standing up. "Aren't you coming?"

He grinned, racing to get out and tripping in the process.

Laughing, we headed up to the door, waltzing in like we owned the place.

The music rattled my ribs, American Idiot was currently playing, as I hummed along.

Someone shoved a red solo cup at me, full of red liquid.

Ashton stared at me, nodding towards the cup. "You want that?"

I smiled.

" 'Course I do. Gotta live a little, right Ash?"