12. Chapter 11
I wake up to the sun streaming through the blinds and birds singing loudly outside my window. For a moment, i forget where i am and everything that happened last night with Luke and Calum and the wild party at the Hemmings house. But then i remember.
I quietly slide out of bed and tiptoe in the direction of the bathroom so as not to wake Luke, but when my hand touches the cool brass of the handle i notice that he isn't in bed. I strain my ears to listen and i discover that he's beat me to the shower.
I notice that all the towels that were given are still all folded neatly in the cubbord, meaning Luke doesn't have one. AND i have his shirt.
I tug a delicately folded white towel out from the heap of them and walk back to the door. Please don't be naked. I pray to myself, even though he's probably too hungover to notice me. I push the door slightly ajar and put his shirt, and a fluffy white towel on the counter. He didn't notice me.
“Madison.” Luke grumbles as if he's just been punched in the gut. Still facing outwards and away from Luke's bare body, i answer him.
“Hangover's a bitch isn't it? What do you need?” I joke, but i don't here laughing. None whatsoever.
“When i broke up you and Calum and picked you up, why didn't run the other way? Why'd you help me?” He oggles. He's right. Why didn't i run the other way? Why did i help him?
“Because even though i know your feelings of me were born from drunk lust, i guess i still find myself falling for you. And don't sigh like that, i don't need your pity, i'll get over you eventually.” Where the fuck did that speech come from?! I bite my lip when i realize what i just said. Part of me chastises myself, but another part of me.. Another part of me is ready to give some highfives- it's about time i grew some balls. Maybe Luke will remember this conversation, but then again, maybe he wont. He IS going through a killer hangover. I guess i can only cross my fingers.
So i do. I cross them tight.