the hating game ; lrh

seven

"GOOD NEWS, BOYS — I'VE solved all your problems," I announce as I approach the lunch table, slamming my tray down before sliding into the seat.

Luke, Calum and Michael stare back at me blankly, exchanging somewhat concerned looks. Since Saturday night, I had decided that I would, in fact, organise for Ashton to trial with the band — unbeknownst to the rest of the boys, I'd texted him the following day inviting him to the next rehearsal.

"I can't imagine you're even somewhat capable of that," Luke is the first to speak, and while his comment is more of an insult than an inquiry, I won't let it get me down — he will get what's coming to him, anyway.

"Well, specifically, your band problems," I clarify, mixing a salty French fry in a pool of tomato sauce and popping it into my mouth.

"We don't have—" Michael begins, but when I shoot him a glare that challenges everything he's just said, he sighs and begins again. "Go on."

"I've found your missing piece," I continue, hoping that one of the boys would fill in the gaps for dramatic effect — they only stare back with blank expressions. I should've expected nothing less. "A drummer!"

Both Calum and Michael almost jump out of their seats in excitement, thanking me and telling me they owed their careers to me. Luke, on the other hand, stares at me suspiciously.

"And who might this drummer be?" He asks, though by his expression I can tell that he already knows the answer.

"Ashton," I reveal, trying my best to prevent my mischievous smirk from emerging.

Michael and Calum's celebrations come to an abrupt end, and they both turn to me with unimpressed expressions. "Ashton Irwin?" Calum clarifies.

I don't answer, simply nod happily as I shove another couple of French fries in my mouth.

"The date clearly went well, then," Michael mumbles far too loudly, pushing his salad around his tray.

"He's not joining the band," Luke deadpans.

"Well, you don't really have a choice," I inform them, my heart racing happily in anticipation of the information I was about to reveal. "He's coming to practice today."

Luke slams his cutlery down on the table, making all of us jump and people from a few tables over cast a glance our direction. When I look up, his face his hard and angry. "You what!?" Luke is seething, and while I know I should be scared I feel nothing but satisfaction from this moment. Before I can respond, he turns to my brother. "Calum, you need to teach your pathetic excuse for a sister how to mind her own fucking business."

Calum frowns at Luke, but makes no attempt to defend me. "I actually agree with her on this one, mate," he admits, much to my surprise.

"What?"

Calum shrugs. "Why not? I've heard he's talented, and we do need a drummer. If it doesn't work out, we'll tell him no. It's just a trial?"

"Are you serious?" Luke is leaning forward now, palms face down on the table before him, eyes wide with surprise and anger.

"I agree," Michael finally speaks up, nodding at Calum.

"Michael—" Luke begins, his anger heightening, only to be cut off by Michael raising a hand to silence him.

"I don't want to hear it, Luke!" He instructs harshly, sending him a side glare. "You know we need a drummer, you just don't want to admit it because it means that Rory has been right all along."

Luke huffs and sinks into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Whatever," he grumbles, then looks up at me through those icy blue eyes. "But you'd better be prepared for your stupid little boyfriend to come crying to you when we tell him he's not allowed in the band."