Meet the Billets [Luke Hemmings]

26. Benched

LUKE
     I'm officially the biggest asshole ever.

     I have no clue what went down between Ashton and Mila at the fundraiser, but I know it's because of me. I assumed it had something to do with our performance, because after Mila had composed herself after crying into my chest for a solid five minutes, she completely shut down. She then spent the rest of the evening closing out the otherwise successful event, not saying much of anything to anyone. Mila went home with her grandmother that evening and I haven't seen or heard from her once this past week.

I also haven't gotten the chance to talk to Ashton either, despite having our first practice back from holiday break yesterday. He wouldn't even look in my direction, let alone let me speak to him. To be fair, I wouldn't want to talk to me either.

I fucked up. Big time.

I let my feelings for Mila get in the way of being a good friend to not only her and Ash, but Calum as well. I must've put him in such an uncomfortable position making him keep secrets for me, and as I sit alone in my bedroom of the empty Young household, I couldn't help but get lost in my own thoughts about the mess I've made.

The worst part?

I still love Mila. It won't stop. And if anything, singing with her last week only solidified the perpetuating fondness I've found for the beautiful girl. Sitting there on stage with her felt so right, and maybe I'm crazy, but I could've sworn she was singing to me.

I know I was singing to her.

I just don't know when things got so complicated. I stood from my bed, deciding to get ready for our game early. It was just barely three in the afternoon, and I didn't have to be there until four-thirty, but my logic is that maybe if I'm the first one there, I can attempt to talk to Ashton the second he arrives.

It's our first game in the playoffs, and I couldn't be more nervous yet excited to officially be back on the ice. With Mila gone, that also meant I haven't really seen Calum or Michael either, so I've spent the past week at the rink more than usual, practicing extra hard for tonight.

I began to get dressed when I heard the front door open and close. Footsteps ascended the stairs, before Grayson appeared in my doorway.

"Hey man," I grinned, as I slipped on a sweatshirt.

"Hey 'sup?" he nodded, leaning against the wall.

"Just getting ready to head to the rink," I explained, gesturing to my equipment bag that was already packed and ready to go.

"Lucky," he huffed, referring to the fact his team hadn't made it to their own playoffs. Grayson invited himself in before taking a seat on the foot of my bed.

"I'm sorry man, but hey, as corny as it sounds, there's always next season," I tried to cheer him up.

"I know," he shrugged, running a hand through his floppy dark brown hair, "Just sucks," he added. I nodded sympathetically before taking a seat beside him.

"So you and my sister, huh?" he asked after a moment, turning to face me.

I chuckled dryly, "It's that obvious?"

"Duuude," he laughed. Like a genuine, loud, laugh.

"Alright, stupid question," I rolled my eyes playfully, "I thought I was being more subtle in my head," I let out a soft laugh of my own.

"I mean you had me going for the first bit, and maybe it's cause she's my sister and I just know her, but don't feel bad about it, man. She totally likes you too," he spoke as my heart fluttered at his bluntness.