Bro Code : Luke Hemmings IN EDITING

Chapter Twenty-Three

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Hello! Thanks for reading last chapter. Share this story on twitter, because it's becoming less popular. :( :( 

Today is a short one, just going to finish up the date! I accidentally overslept and now I have little time to write. UNEDITED

ENJOYxx

Hope's POV

The little woman pulls me in for a short hug. "Yes, and you must be his mom," I smile. She lets me out of her arms and I look over to Luke. I half expect him to be somewhat embarrassed by her friendly welcoming, but he's wearing a cute, endearing smile. 

"You can call me, Liz," she smiles and opens the door for us to walk through. Luke let's me in first and follows immediately after. His mother pulls the door closed as we head into the small front room. 

"Are you still making dinner?" Luke asks from beside me. I look to Liz, who has taken over the kitchen and is fluttering from side to side.

"Yes, are you kids hungry?" she asks.

"I am," Luke says. "Hope?"

"Yeah, starving actually," I admit.

"Perfect! I'll set an extra spot at the table," she smiles and opens a cabinet door. I take in the inside of the house. It's just as cute on the inside as it is on the outside.

The dark hardwood floors make a perfect contrast to the red furniture; the beige walls make you feel comforted. Usually, hardwood floors give a cold feeling--like it's not a home, but the color scheme fixes that. The walls have tall windows and picture frames of the family holding different memories. I see that Luke is an only child and his family is clearly photogenic. There are stairs tucked away in the far corner; one set goes up and the other goes down. I assume the bedrooms and such are on those levels. The main floor consists of a little entrance way, which leads into the living room, then off the living room, is the kitchen. 

The kitchen is old school; red, black, and white. The refrigerator, microwave, and oven are all retro looking. This house is what I want to live in. Screw my house. This is a home. It's made for a family to make memories in. Out of the windows, you can see the trees and the yard. An old swing-set is stationary in the middle with a shed off to the side. I can only envy Luke at this point.

"Come on," Luke says, taking my hand and pulling me up the stairs. 

"Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes!" Liz yells after us. We go up the stair and into a tiny room. The walls are plastered with pictures and posters. The bed is made sloppily and the dresser has a few shirts hanging out of it. There's a guitar and other music related things in the corner of the room. It's probably a third the size of mine. 

"This is my room, if you couldn't tell," Luke says, shyly. He flops onto his bed, but stays sitting up right. "Sorry about my mom. I didn't know she was planning on bear hugging you," he jokes.

"It's okay. She's cute," I assure him. "What's all this stuff?" I say, walking over to the music instruments.

"That's what helps me record the music, it helps to make it sound professional," he tells me. I nod. 

"Is this yours?" I pick up his guitar.

"Yeah, I got it when I turned eleven," he gets up and walks to where I'm standing.