The door opened to find a familiar, awkward looking teenage boy standing there. My mum just smiled and barged past him with a casual “Hi Luke,” walking straight for what I could guess was the kitchen.
“Sorry about her,” I muttered as he stepped aside to let me in. “Katelin by the way, call me Kat, it’s easier.”
“Luke, oh and don’t worry. My mum’s worse,” he replied closing the door once I was inside.
“I doubt it,” I laughed. “My mum’s insane.”
“So is mine, when I got my lip pierced I posted a picture on Twitter and well… my mum has Twitter so she saw it. Not even five minutes after I posted the picture she rang me and started yelling. ‘Take that thing out of your face Lucas.’ ‘What were you thinking?’”
“Well when I get things my mum won’t approve of I don’t get them on my face,” I snickered.
“Oh yeah and the tattoos on your shoulder, collar bone and wrist aren’t noticeable?” he teased, his blonde quiff protruding from underneath a black beanie, his famous Nirvana shirt had its sleeves amputated and it was now a tank top on top of his black skinny jeans and thongs.
“She doesn’t care about those ones. She said as long as they mean something to me than I do what I want. She doesn’t know about my other three. They’re a bit bigger and easier to cover up because of where they are.”
“Right…” he muttered as we lapsed into an awkward silence standing by the door.
I shuffled my feet uncomfortably and tried to start a new conversation.
“Mum tells me you’re in a band…”
“Yeah, the rest of the boys will be here later.”
“Cool, I mean I’ve known about your band for five years and have posters of you on my wall and yet my mum never mentioned you lived across the street,” I said quietly, a blush forming on my cheeks.
“How rude of her,” he chuckled and as if on cue mum came into the room and grabbed my arm dragging me into the kitchen with an excited look on her face.
“Someone’s been flirting,” she giggled.
“No I haven’t. I just found out I’m living across the street from one of the members from my favourite bands and my mother didn’t tell me. I mean it’s not like there are posters of Luke Hemmings on my wall or anything,” I hissed.
“Is that who they’re posters of?” she mused.
“Yeah mum, Jesus Christ. And besides, I’m not a Luke girl; I like the one you seem to hate.”
“What do you see in him anyway?” she asked shuddering at the thought of Michael Clifford.
“A lot more than you do obviously, is that all you wanted?” I asked exasperatedly.
“No, Liz needs help outside. Go give her a hand please,” she replied handing me a bowl of chips and a plate of crackers and cheese.
Oh hullo Lucas Hemmings, you awkward little shit.
Updates every Tuesday for you babes <3
((Depending on where you live it might be Monday))