16. luke's d.

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"Baby, you're gonna need to keep still," Dylan frowns, clipping my hair back in an awful hairstyle. "You look like a pineapple, stop moving!"

"Stop trying to change me!" I groan, messing up the sloppy braid and letting my hair hang loose down my back again.

"Sophie!" he whines.

"It's not like I'm going to an event, or whatever! Just his house."

"Mhm, and you're going to try not to get kicked out of his house by not looking like a damn fruit," he tells me, once again grabbing me by the shoulders. "Now stay still, and pretend like you don't want to kill me."

"I'm not that good of an actor, Dylan."

"Hush up. Have you got any hairspray?"

Just as I'm about to pull away again, I hear someone stumbling clumsily up the stairs. "Dyl, Dyl!"

"What?"

"He's here," Chase breathes, his voice accompanying a slight squeal. I compare it to my post fangirl stages, to thirteen year old Sophie Hayes, and can't help but laugh.

"What?!"

"Yeah, he's outs-"

"Our baby's baby is here!" Dylan shouts, running so quick out of the room that he slams his shoulder against the doorframe.

I don't even wince anymore, or feel the need to; sometime between now and yesterday's chaos, I've succumbed to it.

We make our way down the stairs and, through the small side-window, I make out Luke's tall figure. I pause for a second, just taking t all in.

A chill runs down my spine at how good he looks; black jeans, white shirt, leather jacket. Simple, but fucking beautiful.

"Do you want to open it, or shall I?" Chase asks, and for a moment I think he's talking to me. But then I see that he's looking at Dylan, and I raise an eyebrow.

"You do it. You've got more muscle,"

"What does that have to do with anything?" I pipe up.

He looks at me. "It's more intimidating that way."

I frown, but before I can even begin to object, the front door is wrenched open by the only person in the building as tall as Luke.

I'm face-to-face with the man himself, and the one rose clutched carefully in his hand. He has the other one in mid-rake through his blonde hair, smile widening once he sees me.

"Hey, So-"

"Step back, please," Chase says, his voice suddenly very deep and monotone.

He comes out from behind the door, side-stepping me before standing right in between us.

I'm unintentionally pushed back, my shoulders under the care of Dylan's hands as Chase speaks.

"Nice to meet you, Mr Huddings."

"It's, uh, Hemmings," Luke says, clearing his throat lightly. He shakes Chase's hand, frown wavering. Poor guy, I think. "And it's nice to meet you too..?"

"Chase," Chase replies. "But call me Mr Hayes."

Mr Hayes? "Oh?" Luke looks at him, just as confused as I am. "You're Sophie's father?"

"And I'm her mother," Dylan notes, from behind me. He oustretches his own hand, lips in a tight line. "Nice to meet you, Mr Band Member."

"Nice to meet you too... Mrs? Hayes,"

"Will you two cut it out?" I hiss slightly, having had enough the second a helpless look crossed Luke's face.

I nudge past Chase, rolling my eyes as the disappointed groan thats falls from his lips, before standing right next to Luke on the porch.

"Ignore them," I tell him. He looks more than relieved to. "They're just idiots,"

"Is that any way to speak to your mother?" Dylan glares.

"He's not my mother," I say to Luke, not moving my gaze as I refuse to acknowledge how strange that statement sounds. "These are my neighbours, Dylan and Chase."

"Hi," Dylan waves.

"'Sup," Chase nods.

"'Sup'?" his fiancé repeats, skeptically. "Since when did you start saying 'sup'?"

"What do you mean, dude?"

"Dude? Don't dude me," Dylan folds his arms. I resist the urge to sigh again, but judging by the amused twitch that pulls on Luke's lips, I can tell that he doesn't mind. "You're the bottom!"

"Dude, chill,"

"Chase, I swear to G-"

"I'm just kidding, baby."

This makes Dylan relax, and in turn, so do I. "Much better."

"Shall we go?" I turn to Luke, who rips his eyes away from the two. A smile returns to his face and he nods, sheepishly looking at the guys.

"Sure. If that's okay with them..."

"Have her back home by nine," Chase nods, his deep voice making an unsurprising comeback. I give him a look. "What?"

"Nine? It's eight-thirty," I frown.

"Alright, then," he turns to Luke. "Nine-o-five."

"I'll try, Mr Hayes," Luke says, though the chuckle at the end of his words allow me to relax, for I know he's joking. "You two have a lovely night, now."

"Will do," Dylan notes, as Luke and I start down the porch. The closer we get to his car, the giddier I feel. "Have a nice night, you two! And Soph, don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"What, get laid?" I quip back, and all Luke does is choke on a laugh next to me.

The two guys wait until we're in the car, only closing the door once Luke starts to pull out of the neighbourhood. I watch the house get further and further away with a small smile on my face; they may be idiots, but they're my idiots.

"Hey," Luke says, softly. His eyes are still on the road but his hand is outstretched. My gaze lands on the road. "You loved the last ones so much the last time. I got this for you,"

"You need to stop getting me things," I say, a slight playful tone to my voice as I takenit from him. "Or at least give me a warning. Just so I know what to get you,"

"Well, where's the fun in that?"

We get to his house in under twenty minutes, the entire car ride filled with a very comfortable silence. I try not to think too much about how my main motive was to get Luke to leave me alone, because what we're currently doing is the exact opposite.

"You want anything to drink?" he asks me, as he unlocks the door to his house and we step inside. My jaw practically falls to the floor; it's massive.

You know what else is massive? Luke's d-

"Water, please." I tell him, smiling as I attempt to surpress my inner 'freak'; which isn't really a secret at this point anymore, but still.

"You sure? No beer, no cider?" Luke suggests, opening the fridge as I trail behind him into the kitchen.

Like everything else in his house, it's very modernised and white all around; I think the only thing a different colour in here is the black marble of the kitchen island and the metal handles of the cabinets.

"I can't drink alcohol, Luke. I'm seventeen," I say.

"Bummer," he says, and he curves his lips upwards into a smile as he brings the rim of a beer bottle up to his mouth. "You're missing out,"

I roll my eyes, tempted to slap it out of his hand. "You're twenty, Luke."

"So?"

"Legal drinking age in LA is twenty-one," I take a seat on one of the stools, listening to his light laugh.

"I don't think anybody really lives by that," he says. "You don't live in LA until you go against that rule."

"Wow," I say, poker-faced. "Who knew Luke Hemmings was so into breaking the law?"

"Very funny," he chuckles, handing me my water. "And I actually don't drink that often,"

"Bullshit."

"Language," he raises an eyebrow.

"Seriously, though. Do they never ask you for ID when you try to buy all that stuff?" I gesture to the one part of his fridge, an entire section filled with alcohol.

"Nah. Most of the time I just tell them I'm Luke Hemmings, and they let me off," he winks. I scoff, shaking my head.

"You're not cocky at all, are you?" I ask him, sipping my water. "I really want to know what goes on in your head sometimes, Hemmings."

"Do you, now?"

"Mhm,"

"And why is that?"

"Because it'd probably be an experience."

"An experience, meaning..?"

"I'm just curious, that's all," I explain. "I mean, who wouldn't want to know the sort of stuff you think about daily?" I then joke, about to make some lame joke about going to the gym when my words are cut off completely.

"Oh, baby," he starts, and it all happens way too quickly- suddenly the beer bottle is slammed onto the table, my chair is spun around, and Luke's standing right in between my legs; smirking down at me, not giving me enough time to gather my thoughts.

Well, then. I gulp. That was fast.

His lips pull themselves into a smirk, and his blue eyes hold a glint that makes a shiver run down my spine, much like earlier. When he speaks, I swear his voice is much deeper than before, and it's wonderful.

"Want me to show you?"

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