Bro Code : Luke Hemmings IN EDITING

Chapter Twenty-Eight

200 VOTES + 75 COMMENTS = CHAPTER WHEN IT'S DONE

So I've decided not to get an editor. I had a super good way of picking the bext choice, but so many people wanted to do it that I might as well have just edited them all myself. Between my personal messages on here and tweets I got, about 25 of you wanted a try at being an editor. I bet one of you would be perfect, but I don't have the time to weed through the good and okay. But thank you all for wanting to do it!



THERE'S A PICTURE OF LOKEY IN THIS CHAPTER. if you read further, you'll see why! But if you forget how to view it in the app:

click your screen. Hit the black bar at the bottom (says the title and chapter). It'll go to another slide. Hit the fourth box in the line. You should get two pictures: Lokey and the cover.



ENJOYxx



Hope's POV



"You need to know what actually happened. Everything, not just things that will win you over, and if you don't forgive me, I will stop," he tells me. Everything? Is there really that much to tell? I don't know how my mother convinced me to come over here. 'Always two sides to every story, honey,' her stupid tone reminds me.

"So tell me," I say, bitch seeping through.

"When I first met you at the pool, I thought you were hot, but I knew Michael liked you, so I had no intentions of trying to do anything. Then, I saw you at the party. I know you don't remember that because when you text me for this whole "plan"," he air quotes, "you said you'd only seen me once. If you didn't remember seeing me, then you definitely don't remember the kiss," he says, his voice lowering, waiting for my reaction to the news.

"We kissed?" I think back to the night, a memory coming to my mind. I was falling and he caught me, but that wasn't it. "I kissed you," I tell him.

"Yeah, but then I kissed you again," his cheeks blush, and I can't help but to let a breathy laugh escape from between my lips.

"Is that what Michael would've wanted to talk to me about?" I ask myself aloud, remembering the following day, how mad he was when he came over to talk to me, but left without explaining anything. I knew I didn't believe him.

"What?" Luke asks, confused as to what I'm talking about. He moves from the other side of the tree house and sits next to me on the couch.

"The day after the party, Michael text me and demanded that we talk. So he came over, but as soon as I told him I didn't remember anything, he stopped. He made up some bullshit lie about Casey recording me falling," I tell him.

"Well, that same day, he called me and warned me. He told me that if I tried to talk to you or anything then he'd do shit to me. I told him that I wasn't going to let you just walk away, but at the same time, I knew that I wouldn't be that guy. I just wanted a rise out of Mikey. He kept talking about that stupid fucking bro code, and he said I wasn't a real friend if I did it," Luke tells me. I replay Michael's side of the phone conversation in my head and he seems to be matching up pretty well.

"If you knew you weren't going to do anything, then why would you chance him doing shit," I quote his words from moments ago. His hands move to the back of his neck as he musters up an answer.

"I don't know. If you knew Mike the way I do, you'd understand. I'm not done though," he smiles. "I got your text a little while later and I was geeked," he says.

"Geeked?" I laugh.

"It means I was really excited," I nod at him, understanding. "I thought it had to be a good sign. I knew you didn't know me, but it was my chance. I probably sound like a douche bag, but it's true. Some how, you captured my attention in a way that no other girl ever has. When we kiss, I know you can feel it too. That bubbling in the pit of your stomach, the feeling like you're going to explode, in a good way of course!" he fumbles over his words. I laugh at his attempt to pick himself up. His eyes are so honest and I know I feel it too. "Sorry, I'm shit at these things," he half smiles, embarrassed.

"I'm not much better," I assure him. "I felt it too. I feel it every time," I touch his hand that he's been using to express his words. His lips pull upward and his eyes fall to his feet to hide the slight blush that crept onto his cheeks.

"The first date at the fair was the first proper date I'd ever taken a girl on. I had so much fun and I was willing to stick to your plan if it meant that I could keep seeing you," butterflies flutter around my heart at his sweet words. "Fake date or not, I was bound to get you another night. Then the beach came and I was still enjoying the few laughs we shared. The movie at Casey's house, holy shit," he laughs, "I've never felt so awkward in my whole life. I could feel the tension between you and Mike; whatever you guys talked about during that ride over, must've been deep 'cause you were both pissed."

"He was such an asshole. So childish, but then he told me that he'd waited and all this other stuff. I felt like I broke him, but I knew I had to act okay because I didn't want you to feel weird at a strangers house," I tell him.

"Casey?" he asks, I nod.

"I've been going to her parties for a while, but I guess you wouldn't have known about me being there before," he tells me. "Anyways, that laser tag date was the end. I either had to have you stop calling them fake dates, or I was going to lose my mind. Who knew a photobooth would be one of the best parts of that day," he says, more to himself than me. "Ever since that day, I've been trying to get to know you more. I want to know about the skeletons in Hope Taylor's closet," he says.

"I don't have many," I tell him.

"Everyone's got a couple," he smiles.

"Is that all?" I ask.

"Basically, but you need to know that Michael is a good guy, and that he was only doing what he thought would help him. He's been in love with you for so long. If I didn't remind you of that, I don't think I would've put up a fair fight." I'm completely thrown off, but in awe at his remark. He didn't have to stand up for Michael. Hell! If I was him, I'd be throwing him completely under the bus and doing everything I could to make him look like an ass.

"I.. I don't know what to say," I stammer.

"Say you'll stay with me for a while," he says. "Let me be the one who asks you to stay this time," his eyes are gleaming and I can't find the words. Instead, I lean in and give him a light kiss on the cheek.

"Okay," I smile.

"Okay?" he asks, not expecting that answer.

"I believe you, but I also forgive you. I'm glad my mom convinced me to come. I guess there really is two sides to every story," I smile a crooked smile.

"Come here," he pulls me back in. His lips land on mine and my hand falls to his knee to keep myself upright. I laugh in the middle of the kiss, his hands had trailed down my side and tickled me.

"What's so funny?" he asks, pulling away.

"Nothing," I don't tell him because I don't know if it would cause him to do it more.

"All right, weirdo."

"Dude, play nice," I tell him in a joking tone.

"I might," he smirks. I don't say anything back, letting the air fill with silence. Moments pass as the silence remains comfortable. "So what now?" he asks.

"I don't know," I say.

"Let's play cards!"

"What card games do you have in mind?"

"We can play UNO or War. I have both the card sets from when I was younger," he stands and moves to a drawer in the corner.

"Let's make a car house! I've never made a real one!" I tell him.

"I got this," he says. He pulls out both sets of cards, figuring we could use both, and sits on the floor. I open the set of normal playing cards and sit across from him. "Do you have any music on your phone? Mines almost dead," he tells me.

"I do, but you can't judge me for what comes on. As a fair warning, I did just buy Midnight Memories by One Direction. It's in my favorite playlist, so you may have to deal with it," I tell him, shuffling through my apps to find my music.

"Would you judge me if I said I have it too?" he sheepishly smiles. I laugh when I realize he's not joking. My playlist consists of Demi, Ed, The Wanted, One Direction, Matchbox 20, Cody Simpson, Paramore, The Fray, The Script, Passenger, The Cab, Sleeping With Sirens, All Time Low, Imagine Dragons, Eminem, Green Day, Lorde, Miley, Goo Goo Dolls, and so many others. There's no way he won't like it.

I pick up the cards and start off with the typical tee-pee and try to build around it. My cards keep falling over and it's starting to frustrate me. I haven't been able to stand up more than six cards in a half hour. I look at Luke's in front of me. It's standing three stories tall and maybe ten cards wide. I'm so tempted to knock it over, just so I can say we both suck, but I don't.

His face is concentrated on the fragile paper he's working to build. His tongue peeks through his lips as his head stoops to the level of the cards, examining where to lay the next one. It's beyond adorable.

"You're staring again," he says, not laughing, but joking. Laughing would cause a flow of air. An air flow would cause his cards to teete- totter and fall.

"I can't help. You look like you're sculpting David," I reference the famous sculpture that took years to do and was originally supposed to be a work of art among another pieces, but it was eventually left alone and none of the other ones were made. See, I know a thing or two about art.

"It's a process, really. You could take a few pointers," he leans back and laughs.

"Keep talking and I'm going to breathe on your cards," I tempt him.

"Here, I'll talk you through it," he says. "Get both of your cars and make the little house thing," he picks up cards and demonstrates. I follow his lead. "Then you lean another two on the open sides, but let them fall to the other ones at the same time. You don't want to push it over," he says. "Then you add cards to those ends. So you should have a square with a tee-pee in the middle," he looks up at mind. Once again, my cards are in a flat pile on the wooden floor.

"I think my side of the tree house is broken.."

"I think you just suck at building card houses," he laughs.

"At least I didn't lose to a girl in laser tag," I playfully jab an insult his way.

"Do you want to fight?" he smirks.

"Maybe.." I fight off a laugh. He stands up, creeps around his cards, and walks intimidatingly slow in my direction. I get on my feet and attempt to back up, but the couch doesn't allow me any room. I sit down and bring my knees to my chest. I duck my head down and defend myself the best I can.

"What's wrong, Hopey? Afraid?" he taunts. I peek my eyes above my bony knees. "You look ridiculous," he laughs.

"Ridiculously cute?" I ask.

"Yeah, but mainly just ridiculous." His footsteps come closer and I can feel him next to me. He sits on me. I expected him to either tackle me or tickle me; not sit on me.

"Get off of me, fatty," I laugh.

"Hey! I'm not fat!" he pouts.

"You're on my head! I'm going to die!" I scream, but it's muffled due to his small, yet heavy ass on my head.

"Don't be such a drama queen," he laughs and moves off of me.

"Don't be such a bully," I smirk.

"Wow, you could really use that beanie now," he says. I reach up and feel my hair, it's a little messy.

"Thanks, jerk," I smile. I reach for my phone, I turn off the music and turn on my camera to check it for real. "It looks the same!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," he pretends to act apologetic. "Take a picture of us!" he says, moving in view on the screen. I smile and wait for Luke to put on a grin. I snap the picture, along with a few silly ones, and decide on my favorite to make my lock screen. I send them to Luke and put my phone back down on the ground.

"I brought my laptop out. We can watch a movie or something," he suggests.

"American Horror Story?"

"I've never seen it. Is it good?" he says, pulling the little table from the end of the couch in front of us.

"Fantastically freaky," I tell him as he types in his password.

"Can you get the pillow and blanket from inside the drawer over there?" he nods toward the small, white dresser covered in car stickers and colored marker. I slide open the old wood and reach for the heavy quilt inside. The second drawer has a puffy, small pillow in it. I bring them back over to the couch where Luke has taken it upon himself to lay down.

"I'm going to turn off these flashlights," I tell him, reaching up. I lay down as the show has already started and throw the blanket over the two of us. Luke sits up and I place the pillow behind us. I lay back and make myself comfortable with him; my back against his chest. I pull the blanket up to my chin and make sure I'm warm enough. Luke's arm wraps around my torso and pulls me a little closer. If the lights were on, he'd be able to see my blush. I love any time I get to be close to Luke. I can't describe the feeling.

The episodes pass by and I know I should get up and leave, but I'm too tired to move. I can hear soft snores coming from Luke, who's been asleep for about twenty minutes. Against my better judgment, I continue to watch my favorite series until I feel my eyes droop closed.





I feel the heat from the blanket and the bright lights of the morning as they beam into the tree house. I wish I could say that I woke up snuggled into Luke, but I didn't. Instead, he's laying on the floor, using a hoodie as a pillow. I can't believe he didn't stay up here with me. His gentleman-like things continue to surprise me day-in and day-out. His hair, which was in his usual quiff last night, is now a mess. His long body is even bigger in comparison to the small frame of the tree house.

I realize that my mom was expecting me home last night, and I never came. Staying with Michael is one thing, but staying with your boyf--Luke, is a completely different story. I frantically look for my phone and check my messages. My mother text me three times.

First asking when I would be home.

Second telling me that she wanted me home now.

Third saying that I should call her when I wake up because she assumes I've fallen asleep.

I call her and explain what happened, that it was an honest accident, even sharing that Luke is on the floor. She's not very happy about it, but she understands the situation. By the time the call with my mother ends, Luke is stirring on the floor. I'd covered him with the blanket I had while I talked with her. His eyes slowly open and he smiles.

"Good morning, beautiful," his tired voice rasps to life.

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