The Stepbrother // Luke Hemmings

"it's exactly like that"

31 | "it's exactly like that"

"You're cheating," I pant, as I watch Luke shoot the ball into the net, once again making it. So far, we're eight to fourteen, and I don't mean to be a sore loser but the dude has got to be doing something.

With a slight shrug, he leans down to grab the ball before turning to me, "Nah, you're just not as good as you think you are."

Rolling my eyes, I swipe sweaty hair off of my forehead and near him; bending my knees to form a defense position, "That's not it."

"Really? Then what is it?" He throws the ball to me, it bounces off the cement and I grab it.

Straightening up, I tuck the ball against my hip, and quip back, "Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you're a giant. Clearly you've  got me at a disadvantage."

"And clearly you're just being a sore loser," he rolls his eyes, "Can you just play the game, Annie?"

I huff, bounce the ball to him, and return to my previous stance in front of the hoop; mocking him. "Can you just play the game, Annie?" I frown, before whispering to myself, "I am playing."

The ball dribbles, and Luke raises an eyebrow at him, wordlessly asking if I'm ready. "Just go," I sigh, "You're gonna make it in anyway."

He nears me, effortlessly controlling the ball and I make a half effort to block his shot; lazily raising my arm. Luke pauses clutching the ball, "You know, the win is not as fun when there's no competition."

I blink at him and then I hold up both my hands. "Fine, whatever. Go again."

Luke smirks, and even with my attempt to jump up and knock the ball out of the way of the net, he shoots it and it goes through with ease. His mouth twists into a triumphant smile, that says 'take that' and he casually ambles around me to get the ball.

With his jacket blowing in the wind, his blonde hair beautifully tousled, and his shorts low on his hips he doesn't look a bit of seventeen. He looks older, maybe twenty. I don't know, but the fact that he looks like a fucking sexy sophomore in college annoys me.

"What are you gonna make me do if you win, anyway?" I mumble, carefully crossing my arms over my chest. There's still a dull aching in my shoulder, and I focus on ignoring it.

"Why?" He asks, tilting his head to the side while trying to hold back a grin, "Are you gonna be a brat about it?