"Do you understand me?"
"Yes."
"Yes what?"
"Yes, Mr. Hemmings."
• he thinks about her late at night in his apartment. she thinks about him while doodling he...
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(( a/n: Madeline's outfit above!!!))
School was hell on Friday. I missed Luke. He had texted me a couple times, but I was too hurt to think of a response.
from: luke good morning. I'm sorry for what I said yesterday.. it was mean.
from: luke I took my frustrations out on you. It was my fault. I'm sorry.
from: luke how's school? I miss you.
I kept looking at them, but I didn't respond. I liked knowing he was thinking about me but I still didn't understand what he was so frustrated about the day before.
And, it's never a fun time for your crush to call you a child. Ouch.
After school, me, Celia, and Trish got ready to go out. I put on a black off the shoulder top, my favorite denim skirt, and black converse. I curled my hair in soft waves, put on more makeup than usual, and lipgloss. Celia put on her favorite boyfriend jeans, a black camisole, and an oversized flannel with her brown boots. Trisha put on a maroon tee shirt dress with rolled up sleeves, and her white vans.
We all piled into Celia's car. I had a small backpack full of things to spend the night at Celia's, but it almost felt weird to not be going to Luke's. I was thinking about it a lot, and the girls noticed.
"Madeline, are you okay?" Trisha asked.
I faked a smile, "Yeah, I'm fine."
"I know that face," Celia pointed, "that's your thinking face."
I chuckled, "I'm okay."
"Okay, confession." Trish sighed. "Celia and I totally overheard you and Luke yelling at each other.
My face reddened. "Guys!"
"I'm sorry!" Celia laughed, "It's not that we were spying."
"No, no." Trish shook her head. "We were definitely spying. Come on, tell us. What happened?"
"Yeah, you barely talk about him to us. We're your best friends! You can tell us!"
I sighed, "I just don't want to get him into any trouble."
Celia gave me a look, "Mads, you know we won't say a word. Don't be dumb. You can trust us."
I thought for a moment, gathering my words. "Okay." I sighed, "It's weird, it feels weird. It's like, real."
"What do you mean?"
"It feels like its getting real." I said. "Like sometimes I forget that we aren't together. We kind of act like we are. Like, I stay the night with him, we cuddle, he asks about my life and he listens. He slow danced with me in his kitchen to Frank Sinatra."
