✔ DRUNK words, SOBER thoughts ✖ hemmings au

28: A Suspicion & A Chassé

ARI.

As the days went by, paranoia was less prevalent. I didn't need to look over my shoulder as I poured cereal into my bowl; I didn't need Luke to sit outside of the bathroom to talk to me as I showered; and I definitely didn't jump out of my skin every time a little sound trickled into my ears. I hated being scared. It was frustrating and it made me so angry to know that fear had the ability to drive me mad. But I couldn't let it control me; not if I wanted to live my life with a smile on my face.

"Luke, slower!" I bellowed, looking at the blonde boy through the mirror of my vanity.

"Don't yell at me! I've never flat ironed hair before," Luke laughed, as he pulled down the hair iron down my long locks.

Having Luke with me the entire weekend was comforting. I felt more protected when he was around; when I'd wake up in the morning and he was next to me watching TV or playing games on his phone. It was a sleepover with my best friend for the past couple of nights and I couldn't be any more happy than sharing tubs of ice cream, boxes of pizza and watching movies than with Luke. He was the perfect distraction to that creepy ass text and while I still shuddered at the thought, I felt better knowing that Luke was around.

"Just don't burn your fingers. I don't want melted flesh on my hair," I teased, grabbing the mug off of the table top to take a sip of my morning coffee.

"Don't make fun of me. I'm the one with the hot-as-devil's-balls flat iron in my hand. I could accidentally burn your ear off," Luke threatened, raising a brow at me through the mirror.

I flashed him my middle finger, accompanied with a silly face. Luke let out a chuckle and continued to straighten my hair.

How we got to this point was of course derived from Luke snooping through all my things as I got ready for school Monday morning. Upon seeing my flat iron in the drawer while I was carefully winging out my eyeliner, Luke insisted on trying out the device. But instead of straightening out his own hair how Ashton used to do back in our Freshman year, Luke brought the scorching hot plates to my own hair.

As Luke finished channelling his inner Lou Teasdale, I contently drank my coffee. I couldn't help but to smile as I observed my bestest friend. He was in full concentration mode, biting onto his lip ring as if the gesture would aid in his flat ironing abilities. Before waking out the door with Luke, I had to make sure the entire house was sealed, double sealed, and empty of any other extra beings. Due to the paranoia that still remained in my body, I checked behind shower curtains, closets and beneath the beds to confirm that no one was in my home. Luke even played along to my craziness, helping me check every room. Whether he thought I was overreacting or not, I was just glad that he didn't say anything about it.

"Hey, I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of reminding everyone of tonight's dance practice on your cotillion court Facebook page," Luke mentioned as he drove the both of us to school. He reached over to rest a hand on my thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze as he continued, "I had a feeling that your mind was on other things."

"Oh whoa, I actually forgot about that," I looked at my phone to check the date on the calendar and Luke was indeed right: there was a dance practice tonight.

"I hope you don't think I was intruding or anything. I just wanted to take care of some things for you," he added and I smiled at his generosity.

"Thank you, for everything," I turned my head from the window before me to the boy sitting in the driver's seat. "Not just for reminding everyone about tonight's practice but for everything you've done for me this weekend."

"What did I say before? I adore you so much; what kind of bestest friend would I be if I left you all alone?" Luke moved his hand from my thigh to my hand, lacing our fingers together. I looked down at our intertwined hands, not sure what to make of it. But all I knew, was that I didn't want to let go.