Oxford

fifteen

A/N: This story's a mess, isn't it?

Diana had a big exam today. At six in the morning, she was up and zooming around the loft in search for her notes, the location of which she couldn't exactly remember without her head throbbing. Her thoughts were still a little foggy, but as she'd checked awhile ago, she had no problem grasping all the things she had studied the previous nights. She had been out since 5 in the evening yesterday with Adam for dinner at this chic restaurant and another installation of the Taken movie, only to come home a little more drunk than she'd expected and with a story that she didn't waste time relaying to me as soon as she'd checked in and found me still wide awake. Fortunately for me, she was too drunk, I think, and too invested in looking at my face and stroking it to have noticed the lump of blankets breathing on the floor of my room at the other side of my bed. The story of her night with her boyfriend was an eventful one, and I'd shooed her away when it was getting a little TMI.

I liked Diana and Adam as a couple, and I would totally give Adam my blessing if he would ever decide he was the marrying type and wanted to ride into the sunset with my own sister. But I wasn't exactly keen on knowing every romantic thing they'd done, especially at three in the morning. Besides, I had a guest, who could hear everything.

From where I was at the kitchen, I could hear Diana's frustrated noises, the ruffling of papers and the occasional thud of an object that had fallen, while I was making egg sandwiches.

"Arden," Diana said, causing me to look up and find her opening and shaking all the magazines we had, "do you know where I'd place my—AHA!"

A folded sheet of paper fell out of a Vogue magazine with Emma Watson on the cover. Recognising it, Diana stuffed it inside her bag before grabbing her keys. She looked hungover, that's for sure, but as always, she was stunning, even in a simple pair of blue jeans and a red t-shirt. Right as she was walking by the kitchen, she looked over, eyes zeroing on the stack of sandwiches and a small carton of milk.

With an eyebrow quirked and an amused smile on her lips, she said, "Hungry, are we?"

I sighed, tearing a piece of one of the sandwiches. "Super."

"Clean up after yourself, alright? And your room!"

"My room is clean."

"It better be!" Diana shot me a warning look, as she pulled a jacket on. "Okay. Wish me luck!"

"Good luck!"

Diana had to shut the door twice (her hand slipped on the first try). I exhaled and carried the plate of sandwiches I made with one hand and the small carton of milk with the other to my room. I shut the door behind me with a push of my foot a little too loudly, inadvertently waking the lump underneath the mound of blankets on my floor. I caught a glimpse of the mop of hair on his head, as I climbed up my bed and set my acquisition on the bedside table.

"Good morning," Luca said, voice thick with sleep. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it further, before he rubbed his eyes.

The morning light slipping through the spaces of my dark curtains casted a subtle white light on the sharp angles and subtle slopes of Luca's face. It was eerily beautiful that I couldn't resist grabbing my camera and snapping a photo.

I heard Luca chuckle. "Guess you took my advice."

"Mhmm." I muttered distractedly, as I inspected the photo. Satisfied, I dropped my phone on my bed and said, "I have school in a few. So, get up. I made you breakfast; it's on the table. I'll go take a shower."

"Aw, Arden! Skip. Come on. Spend the day with me, instead." Luca whined, petulantly. He reached for the sandwiches on the table.

"We'll hang later after school."