totally okay |lrh|

0.7

Indigo's POV,,

I park my truck and get out of the car early Saturday morning humming "Invisible" under my breath. I'll admit that I've never really cared for that particular 5SOS song—something about it has always irked me—but now I can't imagine why. The beat, the rhythm, the backing vocals, the melody, the lyrics...all of it's beautiful. And, okay, I'll admit it, the song reminds me of Luke, of his left hand resting just above my hip; of his right hand clasped around mine; of my face pressed into his chest; of the sweet smell of the fabric of his t-shirt; of the warm sun seeping into my skin as we slowly danced in the middle of a crowded LA street; of how I forgot everything while he held me, even the possibility of my dad finding out about me and Luke, even the still-smarting bruises on my shoulder blades.

I'm still humming as I cross the street and walk into the Waffle, the restaurant Luke and I agreed to meet at for breakfast this morning, as a sort of make-up for our failed date last night. It's only 7:40; we decided to meet so early because the Waffle gets incredibly busy on weekends and we wanted to beat the rush. Plus, 5 Seconds of Summer's got interviews starting at 10 o'clock sharp, and they're expected to go until at least 8 tonight—early in the morning is the only time we've got today.

"Table for two, please," I say to the hostess.

"Outside or inside?" she asks as she picks up two menus from the stack beside her.

"Um. Inside, please," I say. The Waffle is right in the heart of Hollywood, across the street from Nickelodeon studios; the outside seats, though nice, are right on the street, in plain view of the sidewalk and the road. Luke and I are much more likely to be noticed if we sit outside than we are if we sit inside. I'd rather not take that chance.

"Right," says the hostess. She leads me to the closest available table—which isn't very far away, admittedly, it's a pretty small restaurant—and puts one menu down at each empty seat. "Your waiter should be by in a minute."

"Thank you," I say.

The hostess walks away. I sit down and pick up the menu, searching sadly through the long list of tantalizing breakfast options for something healthy to eat. Biscuits and gravy have never sounded so good. Same thing with the chocolate chip waffle, and the hash browns, and the pancakes, and—

"Indie, you look so depressed right now."

I look up, slightly alarmed, at the loud voice. My face relaxes into a grin when I see Luke walking across the restaurant towards me.

"This is not the restaurant to come when you're on a diet," I say as he sits down across from me. "My ballet teacher would have a heart attack just looking at most of the things on this menu."

Luke picks up his menu and flips through it. "You're probably right," he says, laughing. "You can't forget the diet just this once?"

"Only if I want to get skinned alive," I say. But my eyes fall on the words "biscuits and gravy" again and I feel my mouth start to water. Geez, I must be hungry. And really craving something fatty and salty.

"How's she gonna know?"

"She's got like a sixth sense or something. She can just tell."

Luke raises his eyebrows and looks up from his menu. "Oh yeah? How?"

"I don't know, she just does, okay?"

He shakes his head and returns his attention to his menu. "You ballerinas are crazy."

"You musicians are crazy," I say.

He grins. "Fine."

Silence falls between us as we read through the menu. I should just get scrambled eggs with fruit and multigrain toast, but my eyes keep falling on the biscuits and gravy again. Gosh darn it.