alumni ➢ luke hemmings [DISCONTINUED]

2.7 ➢ The F Word.

SOPHIE HAYES

Luke wants to meet me for lunch and I'm trying to think of the many different ways I can get out of it. I'm not stupid, I know how it'll go; I'll accuse him of going through my phone, he'll deny it, I'll bring up Michael, and he won't be happy. The night will probably end in him storming off or me doing the exact same; I just know it won't end well. And I'm not brave enough to lose whatever Luke and I already have- whether it be a friendship, or less than that.

I skulk around New York, absolutely freezing regardless of my coat, my frozen fingers soaking up my body heat through the plush fabric. In the distance, Christmas music; ballads of chestnuts roasting and sleigh rides and Santa, the melodies equal to the imagery of red velvet dresses and silver and white pom poms and ice skaters beneath a dim, glowing street lamp.

Back in England I used to visit the Christmas markets with my mother, especially around this time; a good few weeks before Christmas itself, just to avoid the festive version of rush hour. We'd go around the stalls, filling up on gingerbread and cinnamon hot chocolate and buying endless Santa hats to bring back for the rest of the family- which used to only be my father, who could never come with us due to the work load, but still. It was the feeling of being so close to them both that mattered.

Now, however, I don't have any of that. Christmas will feel empty without them and I'm guessing it's the same vice versa- this'll be my first unhappy holiday without my parents. There's only so much I can do to make it feel like it did back home and still, it will never be enough. I was sort of counting on Michael to take my mind off of it all- just for this year, at least. But now I'm not so sure we'll ever get back to that level.

"You want one?"

Startled slightly, I snap my head to the side, completely unaware of how I'd been gazing at a stall of light-up reindeer antlers for a while now and the person beside me seems to be more than amused.

I'm about to move and apologise for standing in the way, but then I catch a glimpse of tuft blonde hair shoved underneath a black beanie, and I stop.

"Luke."

"Sophie," Luke nods, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, his smirk barely noticeable but present. In the cold November air, where fog and snow seem to work together to amplify the dim glow of the streetlights, he almost looks angelic. Almost. Just don't take into consideration the fact that he's dressed in all black and that a couple of hours prior, I was convinced he was the devil incarnate.

"What are you doing here?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" he raises an eyebrow, turning to start walking away from the stall. And because I'm stupid, I follow him. "I've been calling you since last night,"

"I know," I note, "I watched the phone ring."

"Ouch," Luke says, looking at me from the corner of his eye. I don't react.

"Yeah,"

"Any particular reason?"

I think about what would happen if I just didn't bring it up. What I wouldn't lose and what I'd actually gain. I could nudge his arm lightly, laugh, say that I'm kidding and that nothing's going on. But I know that'd be wrong.

"I talked to Michael the other day," I finally say.

"Right," he puffs his cheeks out, as if expecting the answer already. Then he takes a seat on a spare bench and nods at me to do the same, "That's the reason."

"Yeah." not just that, I want to say, but I don't. He's staring at me now, but not in the hard, focused way that he usually does. He's just looking at me and I'm staring at the floor.