eight

    In Maine now.

    I've never really been one for waking up early. I like my sleep, I cherish my sleep. If I could be a cat, I'd be that really lazy cat that sits on ones lap all day and all night, only moving for food (maybe some bird watching, too).

    We checked in around 1 in the morning, the receptionist said breakfast includes cinnamon rolls fresh and hot. Now, when someone has me choosing between food and sleep, I will almost always choose food.

    I love food, and I have no shame.

    It was twenty minutes past seven in the morning, and I was fully dressed. I had my usual dark jeans, my normal black tee shirt with a few holes over it. My high top Coverse were on, my hair was hair-sprayed into proper position. Everything was pretty good, I was feeling pretty good.

    I ignored my body begging me to sleep and grabbed my hotel key, shoving it into my wallet and heading out.

    I made sure the door locked before I began my walk down the hotel hallway.

    The hotel was glamorous, tall gold-colored walls held up with stone beams, the floors were a deep red carpet, it looked straight from a Sims game I used to play. I still play. I will never stop playing Sims with endless cheat codes.

    I got to the elevator, rolling on the balls of my feet as I waited for the glass elevator doors to open up to the cathedral-like eight-story foyer in front of us.

    I stepped in, finding the floor to the lobby. I could smell the hot cinnamon rolls, my body was ready.

    "Hold it!" A voice yelled behind me.

    I put my hand in front of the closing doors, causing them to open once more.    

    A fatigued Luke rushed in, his worn out blue eyes looking up at me. "Quickly!" He yelled, realizing I hadn't moved my hand yet.

    I retracted my limb, letting the doors close once more. As we began descending, I could see his security team walk by. "Are you hiding from them?" I asked.

    "Yeah," he responded, out of breath. He leant down on his bent knees, trying to catch air into his lungs. "I'm not in the mood to be captured in my hotel room."

    "Oh," I said, looking down at our feet on the ground.

    Luke stood up again, stretching out his back. "You wanna go on an adventure?" He asked.

    I looked up at him, questioning if I heard him correctly. "I'm sorry, what?"

    He pulled at the collar of the black hoodie around his shoulders, taking it off and putting it over his arm. He was left in an off-colored white tee shirt with a huge hole underneath the arm pit. He was wearing black jeans and I'm certain it's the only pair he's worn for a weak. "Either you're coming with me or you never saw me, alright? I have an Uber outside waiting to take me half an hour away, are you coming?" He asked again, slower this time.

    I'm sure his purposely slowed speech was a derogatory sign, but I couldn't possibly be offended. "I'll go with you. Can I get a cinnamon roll, though?"

    Luke rolled his eyes as the doors opened. "Make it fast."

    I grabbed the hot food I've been waiting hours for before finding him outside.

    I remember going on adventures with Ashton. Ash was always up for doing something stupid as long as he could bring his camera. When we were teenagers, we'd break into the run down factory down the street at least once a month back home. He'd take some candids of me, I'd tell him how ugly I felt, then we'd go home.

    I thought it was a pretty nice childhood. He and I saw our own city, we explored our own world. I'm not sure many people are able to say that, I'm not sure many people have hundreds of thousands of photos to prove it either.

    I have proof that I grew up.

    I squeezed next to Luke as he began a small conversation with our driver. I ate my cinnamon roll in silence, trying not to spill the sticky substance or crumbs over the seats.
     Luke didn't acknowledge me for half an hour. "You never asked where we were going," he told me, as if I didn't know.

    I shrugged my shoulders and licked my fingers. "What's your point?"

    "Why don't you care?"

    "What's the worst that can happen? We die? Okay." I sat back in my seat, my eyes trailing from his strong features to the window behind him. We were pulling off the highway and into a quiet city.

    The buildings looked old, the cars on the street were rusted. Everything looked a little vintage, like we left the year 2016 and did a stop in 1986, except I still had my iPhone and Luke still looked partially annoyed.

    Luke made sure our driver was paid correctly before stepping from his car. We said our farewells and looked out onto the Maine streets.

    "This is kind of cute," I said, walking to stare into a window of a vintage shop.

    "Everything opens in five minutes," Luke responded walking behind me. He grabbed onto the sleeve of my black tee shirt, pulling me from the window display and towards the next shop. "I read about this online. It's supposed to be one of the best second-hand strip malls out there." He let go of my shirt, walking briskly across the street.

    "I didn't know you read, or bought second-hand clothes." I jogged to catch up with his long legs.

    "I've read your shit and I enjoy putting my money else-wear." Luke's back faced me as he continued to walk down the street as if he knew exactly where he was going (I knew he was just as lost as me).

    "You've read my shit?" I repeated. When I hear something odd, I'm constantly sure I heard whomever wrong. I've attended too many concerts in my nineteen years of living and my hearing has definitely taken a toll.

    "Of course I have," he walked into a store on the corner the second they opened up their doors. He gave the cashier a smile and continued walking as if we weren't in the middle of a conversation.

    "Why?" My hands skidded across neatly hung items of clothing, all of them a different texture.

    "If you're garbage, I didn't want you writing about me." Luke pulled out a few shirts, lapping them over his arm to try on later.

    "Did you just compliment me?"

    "No." He turned around, giving me the brightest smirk I've ever seen show upon his face. As quickly as he faced me, he turned back around, strolling through the store.

    I couldn't help but laugh as I watched him walk away. Luke was an asshole, but he was the favorite asshole I've ever met.

    Luke bought a bit before leading me to the next store. He didn't turn around to see if I was following him, he just expected I'd be there.

    I could have probably been kidnapped by a gang of angry grandmothers and he would have never noticed. Luke is in Luke's world, he's in his head where everything revolves around him and only him.

    In the next store, he began talking to the owner, having a casual conversation as he walks around the tiny shop.

    I leant against the glass counter on the opposite side of the owner, both of us watching Luke roam around and pick up items of clothing or accessories. The owner headed to the back for restocking, leaving us in an empty, quiet shop.

    The blonde picked up a crop top, cut more for female anatomy than his. "What about this, Mike? I know you'd like this."

    "On me?" I asked with a laugh.

    "No, no, on me. It'd look good, right?"

    I bit on my bottom lip, not sure what he was trying to get out of me. "I mean, sure. Wear what you want."

    He put it back down, scuffing. "You sound like such a mother."

    "Did you want me to compliment you? Did you seriously set up an entire conversation on the hopes of me telling you that you're hot?" I asked, trying to tease him without hurting him.

    He shrugged his shoulders as he continued walking around. "You know how I am."

    "Do I?"

    "Of course you do, all you do is analyze my life for a living." Luke put his stuff on the counter, bumping hips with me as we waited for the owner to come back.

    I smiled, "Yeah, I guess you got me there." I looked up at him since he was already looking over at me.

    He had a content smile upon his lips that made me really glad I snuck out with him. His eyes were shining bright in ugly fluorescent lights, he looked at peace in that very moment.

    Do you know that scene in movie where they see the infamous hot boy smile and everything becomes in slow motion? That's kind of what I saw. All of his movements slowed with time as he smiled down towards the ground.

    I felt like the protagonist, the underdog. I haven't figured out what character he is, though.

    We headed down a few stores, continuing our shopping spree—mostly him shopping, me watching.

    Luke tried on some hats, extremely flamboyant for his taste. Flowers on the top, feathers hanging over the top. "I look great," he informed me, as if I didn't already know.

    I let out a laugh between words, "Yeah, you sure do."

    He reached over, placing a lilac church-type hat upon my head. "You know, you could look really good."

    "Wow, thanks. I'm really flattered right now." I pulled the rim down, shielding my eyes.

    "No, no, I mean you do look good, but you know what would look better?"

    I lifted the rim of the hat again, peaking out.

    He smiled again and the universe seemed to have become a little brighter. "You should dye your hair again. It's looking faded." He reached out a hand, pulling at the strands hanging over the left side of my face. "Like, this is pastel and punk or whatever, but, I don't know."

    Luke's hand doesn't leave my face and I'm not sure what to do.

    His thumb is on my cheekbone as he wiped back a few more pieces of faded hair. The atmosphere feels although it's choking in on me as I take a step back.

    "Maybe we should get back soon. I'm sure your management is about to call the police."

    Luke is looking at me and I'm sure his heart is beating as fast as mine. He takes his own step back, taking off the feminine hat. "Maybe later, I want them to sweat." His cocky persona is back as he travels around the store.

    I'm forced to remind myself that I am nothing special.

This just looks cute in my head, alright.

Can you believe that Luke actually has emotion? Feelings? He's a human? What?

Do you think Michael will stay the protagonist? What will Luke become?