Bro Code : Luke Hemmings IN EDITING

Chapter Nine

I text Michael once I get home and ask him to come over tomorrow evening to hang out. He agrees and says he's just gotten a couple new movies. We plan for one of our famous movie nights. As I come  into my room from my shower, I see that my phone screen is lit up. I'm mainly expecting it to be from Michael, but when I see Luke's name flash across the screen, I wonder what he could want or need. My question is answered when he asks me if I want to do anything specific for the date.

I'm glad he's not being weird about the fact that I barely know him and asked him to do this. I wonder what made him agree to it. Maybe he enjoys making Mikey mad.. Oh well. Revenge is always sweet. I'm not sure what Saturday's plans will include, but I'm not expecting much due to the fact that it's a fake date. I'm hoping that we find things to talk about..

I put my phone up and go bed. It's around midnight, which isn't late, but I'm still falling into my school schedule; it feels like it's two in the morning. I listen to the frogs and bugs outside of my window, growing louder with every silent second passing inside. I grab my phone and turn on my favorite 8track playlist, All Time Low + The Cab. It's the perfect remedy for a good night's sleep. A few songs in, I feel my eyes getting heavy. I don't remember hearing after awhile. Sleep takes over.

I wake up the next morning and think of every excuse to stay in bed. I grab my phone and check my messages: there aren't many. My mom text me around six and said she was going into the office today because her boss needs her to do some things before the weekend and she can't do them from home. She expects the house to be clean when she gets home later as well. It's not too much though. Our house is usually clean.

I get up and head down stairs in my pajamas. I pour myself a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice. I scroll through twitter as I eat; it's lie my morning newspaper. Nothing unusual, girls indirect tweeting about their boyfriends who are "perfect" or who are complete pigs. I keep scrolling until I get bored but just as I go to exit the app, I see one tweet that catches my eye.

"@MichaelGClifford: tonighht.. ;) guess who's winning.. me."  I am dumbfounded, yet find it amusing because if he really knew what tonight was about, he'd be just as mad as I am. Of course, I have to reply.. 

"@HopeTaylor: @MichaelGClifford what's that mean? You're not winning anything.. lol.."  I smirk as I press send. Not even a whole minute later, it gets a favorite. I refresh my mentions to see who it is: @Hemmo1996, Luke. He knows the truth which is why he favorited it. I follow him and refresh again to see a tweet from Michael.

"@MichaelGClifford: @HopeTaylor it's a joke between me and one of my friends. hah"  I read in my head. Yeah, it's not a joke. He just looks stupid going on with it, maybe if I didn't know he wouldn't look stupid, but I do.

"@HopeTaylor: @MichaelGClifford oh okay lol. Come over earlier. I need your help.. ;)"  False hopes. That's what's going to happen. No winning. A couple seconds later, the tweet gets a favorite from Luke once again.

"@MichaelGClifford: @HopeTaylor sounds good. See you around 5?"

"@HopeTaylor: @MichaelGClifford sounds like a date. :) " 

I feel a slight ping of regret. I mean, Michael is my best friend and obviously I thought we were close enough for him to not do this. For him to let things go with the flow. I almost question why I'm so upset by it, but it boils my blood and I can't do anything about it. Talking to him about it isn't good enough. He'll keep trying and then I'll be put in the awkward position to choose, and I couldn't do that. I can't choose between my best friend and my best friend becoming my boyfriend. It's awkward and makes me uncomfortable to think about, honestly.

I decide I've done enough damage for the day and close out of twitter. I put my bowl in the sink and realize there's quite a few dirty dishes accompanied by it. I open the dishwasher and see a load full of clean dishes, I put them away before loading the dirty ones. I wipe the counters and table and straighten the papers on the corner of the desk. I go to the laundry room and find a load of towels in a basket, waiting to be folded. After the few simple tasks, the house looks clean enough to pass my mother's standards.