24. cheeto, toastie, daddy and baby.

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There are a lot of things that had the potential to happen today. I could have been struck by lightning. I could have gotten a call from Dylan telling me to scrap everything and come home because he'd just won the lottery. I could have even been taken out of school by Luke to have lunch. The simple, little things like that.

Or I could have been picked up from my school by a famous, blue-haired guitarist and his newly-made red-haired friend who has been my best friend for years. That could have happened, also. And it did.

I watch them both with a stunned expression on my face as the car zooms past our school. The back windows are tinted, but I can see every stare locked in our direction as we drive past mine and Ashley's shocked classmates- Beth included.

She watches, wide-eyed, as Michael honks the horn to get people to move out of the way. I have to surpress all of my excitement because I have half the mind to jump out and drag her towards the floor by the ear; I've decided that I'll do that some other time.

Right now, however, I'm focused on the two colourful saviours in front of me. And it's not until we're on the freeway that I lean forward, right in between the leather seats, confusion etched across my face.

"You good?" Ashley's the first one to speak as she looks at me, amused. My eyebrows raise.

"Explain?" I ask.

"Explain what?"

"What this is," I gesture between her and Michael. "And what that was," I gesture behind the car, to the building slowly disappearing out of sight. "Basically, all things that owe an explanation."

"Are you complaining?"

"I hope not," Michael chuckles.

"No. Just wanna know how this happened," I say, once again flicking my fingers between the two people in the front seat.

"That's what I was trying to tell you at lunch today," Ashley says, facing me. "Before Beth became her soul-sucking self and stared me down so I couldn't speak."

"What did you wanna tell me?"

"This," she nudges Michael, before turning to me again. "During Maths today I slid into his DMs and battle-cried when he read them,"

"She sent me a video of her screeching," Michael adds.

"And then I got sent out of lesson,"

"Is that why you had a detention slip today?"

"Three, actually. My screams were continuous," Ashley states, somewhat proudly, and I know that she's not lying because I probably heard her in the hall somewhere.

"Okay. That still doesn't explain how you got Michael Clifford to give us a ride home from school today, though," I say, and Michael chuckles.

"I don't know why you're acting like it's such a big deal. We've met before," he tells me, obviously entertained.

I shrug, and Ashley makes a disappointed smacking sound with her lips.

"Mhm. Without telling me," she states accusingly. I pause my movements, suddenly sheepish. "I wanted to fucking bash the calculator against my head once I said, 'hello you hot piece of Ass-tralia' and Papa Smurf over here went, 'oh, you know Sophie?',"

I look at Michael. "You said that?"

"It was the first thing that came to my head at the time," he replies honestly, turning the car down a street with much less traffic. "You're all Luke ever talks about."

This causes my heart to skip a beat, and if my organ had a fucking voicebox, it would no doubt be screaming; much like Ashley was throughout the entire afternoon at school today.

I have a lot of questions, and I ask them continuously, like a bored little kid on a seven hour roadtrip.

Why did he read my best friend's DM, out of all of them? Apparently Ashley slid in with a picture of toast, and for some ungodly reason, this caught Michael's attention. Simple, but cute, and it describes their humour perfectly.

The next one is why did she call him, out of all people? Chase and Dylan weren't working today- though after everything Beth had said back there, I wasn't about to ask either one of them to pick me up; I was far too afraid of the girl displaying her ignorance and hurting their feelings.

"Well, I did call Luke for starters," Ashley begins to tell me.

I rip my eyes away from the view outside of the window, attention caught by the mere sound of the guy's name.

"But Michael was on Luke's phone at the time, so he answered instead."

"And you said..?"

"I told him to get in his car and pick us the fuck up," she states, no remorse present in her tone. I surpress my laughter.

"What? A blood-sucking bitch was about to shove you on a bus, Soph. I was not about to let that happen."

"Did you not ask her why?" I ask Michael.

"She didn't give me much of a chance to," he laughs lightly. "Your friend's pretty persistent. She hung up after she said everything she needed to say, your school address and everything,"

"Were you not wondering what the hell was going on?" I ask him again.

He shrugs. "I was, but I was bored. And then she told me that she was the Toast Girl, and I was sold."

True love, I'm tempted to say, but I hold back, scared of freaking either one of them out.

When we get to our final destination, I'm surprised to see that it's not my house, or Ashley's. Not even Michael's, though I doubt he would have taken us there anyway; it's Luke's.

"Oh my god," Ashley mumbles, staring up at the chopped topiary and glass walls from the dashboard.

Michael just chuckles, unlocking the car doors. She continues to speak, jaw nearly hitting the floor.

"Does this man play in a band, or own a fucking drug cartel?"

"I'm pretty sure we're in a band. Though we're pretty addicted to pizza and beer so, it can go either way," Michael jokes. "I'll be right back. Just gotta open the front door,"

"Is Luke home?" I ask, possibly sounding a little more desperate than I'd hoped.

Although it's his house, I'm aware that he likes going out a lot, so it honestly wouldn't surprise me if he wasn't.

"He should be. Back in a bit," Michael replies, before slamming the door to the driver's side shut.

Ashley and I watch him cross over the bonnet of the car, sending a goofy wave our way, green eyes bright and teeth of full show because of his smile.

I'm just about to exit the vehicle myself when I feel a short, sharp slap land right on my left arm.

"Ow!" I yelp, retracting it to the side. Ashley just glares at me. "What the hell was that for?!"

"You know exactly what that was for!"

"No, I really don't!" I snap back, murmuring unhappily in pain straight after.

"For meeting Michael two times, and not telling me!"

"Seriously?!"

"Seriously!"

"I forgot," is all I have to say, and she narrows her eyes.

"You forgot?" she repeats, baffled, "What, like a normal person forgets their house keys, or their phone?"

But although she's yelling at me, and despite how the slap is slowly starting to sting, I can tell that she's not being serious by the way her voice goes up.

"Michael-motherfucking-Clifford, Sophie!"

"I'm sorry! Okay, I'm sorry," I say, rubbing the sore patch on my arm. "I swear, I forgot. So much stuff has been happening lately, it's hard to keep track,"

"And this is why you should keep a diary," she slaps me again, only much softer, and in a different place that avoids the initial red mark. This is how I know she's not truly angry.

"I'm your best friend, Soph! I'm supposed to know everything!"

"You don't even know my favourite colour!" I argue, knowing fully well that I've never told her. Simply because I can't choose.

Whenever she asks, I just say I don't care. Thankfully, carelessness isn't a colour, so she has no answer.

"Fuck you, yes I do,"

"Then what is it?"

"It's all of them, because you're extra and I'm colourblind," she states. The first half is actually correct now that I think about it, yet the second half just makes me question her logic.

"Right," I roll my eyes, choosing to dismiss it. "Look, I'm sorry I never told you. I was going to, I just didn't know when,"

"Mhm. Next thing you know, you'll be pregnant in the hospital with Luke's fucking quadtruplets and I wouldn't know because someone forgot to send me a text,"

"I'm-"

"You could have e-mailed me, at least!" she cries. "Or slipped me a note underneath the desk. Whatever happened to old-fashioned chivalry?"

"How many times am I going to have to apologise to you?" I ask, exasperated. "I said I was sorry,"

"Sorry doesn't fix the betrayal," she sighs, overly dramatic as her head falls back against the seat.

"Oh please, it was hardly betrayal,"

"Now you're questioning me? It's like I don't even know you anymore," if it wasn't for the fake gasps accompanying her every word, I probably would have left the car by now.

"I'm. Sorry. Okay?" I say again, slowing the words down even more.

Ashley just scoffs. "Bandaids don't fix bullet holes," she then says, in a wise tone. I groan.

"You did not just quote Taylor Swift,"

"You did not just meet Michael Clifford twice without telling me,"

"Jesus Christ," I sigh loudly, shifting my position and ending up with my back pressed flat against the leather seat. Then I yell, looking up at the car's ceiling because I doubt Ashley's even listening to me at this point, "How many times do you want me to apologise?"

"How many times have you met Michael Clifford without telling me?" she glances back, eyeing my awkward position.

"Just two."

"When was the first time you met him?"

"I don't know, a couple months ago?"

"How many weeks are in two months?"

I raise an eyebrow at her, but regardless, play along. "Eight,"

"What's eight multiplied by two?"

I sigh, "Sixteen."

"Then sixteen. You have to apologise to me sixteen times,"

Rolling my eyes again, I know deep down inside that I shouldn't be surprised. "And you call me extra,"

"Fuck it. Seventeen."

"Ashley!"

"I'll make it eighteen," she warns me.

Before I can say anything to her that'll hold my defense and spark an argument, and before I have the oppurtunity to even sit up, the door right in front of me yanks open.

The movement causes the car to jolt, and since my foot was resting against it, I unintentionally kick out at thin air.

I'm left in an even weirder position than the first time around; this time, my legs are wide open, gaze snapping up as Luke leans against the doorframe of the car- a look of utter amusement on his face.

"Oh," he smirks in surprise, blue eyes glinting in my direction as they score up and down my uncomfortable stance. "Hello."

"Don't get any funny ideas, Hemmings," I warn him already, holding a hand out.

Thankfully, he takes it, and he helps me out of the car as in the front seat, Michael helps Ashley do the same.

"Thanks, Cheeto." she says. Cheeto? I think. They already have inside jokes I don't know about?

"No problem, Toastie." he says back.

They're talking so casually that it's hard for me to believe that they only met this morning.

"Why don't we have cute nicknames like that?" Luke nudges my shoulder as we walk, though it's a little difficult seeing that he's much taller than me.

"Because we're normal,"

"Are we?"

"Kind of."

"Kind of, not really," he links his fingers with mine as we walk up the pathway, entering the gate to his house. "Our nicknames just can't be said in public, that's all."

"They can't?"

"At least your 'nickname' for me can't," he says.

"And why is that?" I ask, even though I think I already have a hint of the answer.

I watch as Ashley and Michael enter the house, about to follow after them when Luke spins me around by the waist.

"Because..." he lowers his voice, so quiet that I almost don't hear the rest of what he whispers into my ear, "I'd much rather hear you scream it when my head's between your legs."

As my mouth falls open, Luke is quick to drop his arms from around me; stuffing his hands back into the pockets of his ripped black skinny jeans, he bites his lip, acting like the most innocent person ever.

I'm utterly speechless as he sends me a wink, turns his heel, and begins to walk to the front door again.

He looks over his shoulder at me, smirking. "You coming, baby?"

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