alumni ➢ luke hemmings [DISCONTINUED]

1.5 ➢ Smirking.

"Will you calm down?! I didn't look through it, I swear!"

"How the fuck do you have this?"

"Listen, I-"

"Don't lie to me, Sophie, I swear to God,"

My lips fall shut. I'm torn between telling on Ashton and saving myself; either way, I doubt any of my answers are about to put a positive spin on Luke's mood.

He doesn't look bad or anything, for I'm pretty sure that not even a walking ball of stress such as Luke Hemmings could look anywhere near that proposition. But he does look exhausted; worn beyond belief and disturbingly restless for somebody awake at midnight, somebody who's probably been awake the entire day looking for the one thing he's lost. I feel nothing but awful.

Not to mention, it's very odd seeing him pace around the commodity of my dorm room. It's not small or unwelcoming or anything, not even untidy nor unpleasant; Luke just looks very out of place when he's somewhere that doesn't have a crystal chandelier looming above the ceiling and three pretty models lounging about in silk nightgowns. It sounds like an exaggeration, but it's really not— I've seen them milling around almost all of the parties he hosts.

"Talk to me," Luke demands, interrogation in his tone. He sounds so perplexed that being speechless somehow seems like a bad idea and a good idea at the same time.

He hasn't laid a finger on me, hasn't even come near to doing so; but his face is so close to mine that I can practically smell the mint in his breath and the sharp scent of his cologne.

One more step forward and we'd end up bopping noses- an experience I don't particularly want to endure with, again, somebody like Luke Hemmings.

"Sophie fucking Ha-"

"I-I found it!" is what I manage to blurt out, wanting to stop him and put an overall end to my panic.

A hesitant breath has long since hitched in my throat and I watch as he watches me watching him, anticipating his next move, not keen to hear his next words but also not being able to help the fact that I'm eager to do so.

Deep breaths.

"You... you left it. In the coffee shop,"

Lie. Don't get Ashton into trouble. Lie.

"You forgot to pick it up before leaving,"

Deep. Breaths.

"Bullshit," he spits, venom lacing every word. I swallow the lump in my throat, attempting to force it back down under his steely gaze.

Don't panic.

"Sadie got a hold of it, and asked me if I could give it back to you," I ramble. Somehow, I fail remember how Sadie's his cousin- somebody much closer to the man that I am- and my plan falls through completely. It wouldn't make sense for her to entrust me with something that means so much to him.

Whatever you do, don't panic.

Before Luke can question me any further, I gulp again, "I didn't look in it, I swear. I never even turned any of the pages or flipped through the content. I promise, I... I wouldn't... I would never-"

You're panicking.

"What did you see?" he ignores my entire statement, his eyes glaring at every terrified feature on my face. I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other.