the hating game ; lrh

eight

"AND THEN HE KISSED you on the cheek?" Anna leans forward on the kitchen counter, one of the many chips she was holding slipping from her grasp as the remainder hang in mid-air.

Typically during school Anna had band practice, or tutoring, or choir, or whatever other extracurriculars she was usually engaged with during lunch break, so we rarely got to see each other during the week. That was why, majority of the time, I sat with my brother and his friends, and why weekends were dedicated Anna and Rory time. More importantly, I could finally tell someone about my interactions with Ashton — god knows Calum wouldn't want to hear about it, and there wasn't really anyone else I could tell.

"Yep — in front of all of them!" I giggle, and Anna leans forward impossibly further as she laughs too.

"Oh god," Anna pauses to shove a handful of chips in her mouth, pointing her salt-coated finger at me as she chews. "What did Calum say?"

"Nothing! Not a word," I reveal, my brows raised to convey my surprise — even when we arrived home, Calum hadn't brought it up. "Luke looked kind of pissed off, though."

Anna wiggles her eyebrows, a smirk playing on her lips. "Maybe he's jealous."

I scoff, shaking my head and popping a chip into my own mouth. "God, no," I deny in a heartbeat. "He hates me — and Ashton, too. That must be why."

Anna hums suspiciously, her hand diving back into the plastic packet for more. "I'm not convinced," she admits devilishly.

"What do you mean?" I ask, though in the back of my mind I know exactly what she means — it was what she always meant. Anna has had this stupid little theory for years.

"You and Luke," she wiggles her perfectly-plucked eyebrows again. "You guys are so in love."

I scoff and roll my eyes, just as I always do when Anna brings this up, and walk around the island counter towards the fridge. It was Saturday night, and while Calum and Luke were out at Michael's house (again — where else would they be?) we had been watching movies and eating junk food.

"You're delusional if you think that's true," I fling open the freezer door and rifle around for a moment before finally pulling out a tub of Ben and Jerry's ice cream that I had hidden from Calum at the back of the fridge. I turn back to the counter and pull two silver spoons from the cutlery drawer, slamming them down either side of the ice cream tub.

"You're delusional if you think it's not true," Anna counters, plucking her spoon swiftly from the bench and ripping the lid of the tub off in an almost animalistic fashion.

"Whatever," I roll my eyes again and give up on the subject, stabbing the hard ice cream with my spoon.

Not a moment later, the front door swings open with a loud squeak and a slam as it hits the foyer wall. Calum stumbles into the house, a delusional Luke slung over his shoulders as he carries him in. Luke's blonde hair is matted in a mess across the front of his forehead as opposed to in its usually up-styled fashion, and his face looks almost as if it's drooping. His feet drag along the ground, barely functioning, and his head rolls back every few seconds. Calum huffs as he lugs him inside, plopping him down on a stool by the kitchen counter.

"What the hell happened to him?" I ask Calum, jabbing my spoon in Luke's direction.

"Michael raided his parents' liquor cabinet," Calum grunts, taking a seat beside Luke and tugging frustratedly at his own hair.

My heart stops for a moment, and I stare wide-eyed across the counter at my brother. "Cal, you didn't—"

"Of course I didn't drink and drive," Calum spits back almost instantly, seeming mildly offended by my moment of accusation. "I'm not an idiot."