six

    Alex patted Luke on the shoulders as he came backstage. "Great show, Hemmo," the manager said.

    Luke shrugged without a response and collapsed on the seat next to me. He leant froward, going through a green cooler at his feet. That was the alcohol cooler, something I've never touched.    

    I'm a baby, not even able to [legally] drink in America.

    Luke had a stream of sweat dripping down the right side of his face. He titled his head back as his lips touched the opening of the beer bottle. He gulped down a third of it without taking a breath.

    I watched him swallow, weirdly finding it attractive. I never knew watching a human drink could be so attractive, but Luke sure made it happen.

    "Michael has to interview you in a few," Alex said, placing himself on top of the closed cooler.

    "Ugh," the star groaned. He turned to me, "No offense."

    "A little offended," I responded, trying to keep my temper cooled. I wasn't the one to get mad, I always tried my best to stay calm, I never raised my voice or anything. "It'll be real quick," I promised, "You can keep drinking or relaxing or whatever."

    He got up, placing his drink down on a coffee table. Luke took his shirt off, grabbing the back of his collar and pulling the fabric over his head. It was hard not to stare at his broad back, each vertebrate of his spine sticking out.

    He wasn't fit, in all honesty. He was attractive—he was very pleasing to the eye—but that didn't really mean he was built up or skinny. He was just Luke and he was just enough.

    The top of his briefs were sticking up past his skinny jeans, he pulled up the waist band before bending down to dig through a bag he brought backstage. "That's fine," he dramatically sighed, "just get it over with."

    Alex gave me another good luck look: Something I've gotten too much of. He patted the inside of my knee before standing up, grabbing his charging phone from an outlet. "I've gotta call my wife, I'll be back in twenty minutes."

    It was Luke and I again, alone. I turned on the recording device on my phone, knowing it'd be the easiest way to record then write. I placed it face down on the coffee table before relaxing back into the couch.

    "I never wanna be like that," Luke said, pulling on a cozy crewneck sweater.

    "Like what?" I asked, raising my head to watch him.

    His 6'4" frame walked over, plopping down next to me closer than he was before. He grabbed his cheap beer once more, closing his eyes and taking another large gulp. "Married. Attached to my wife. Any of that, it's nonsense."

    "I think it's kind of cute." I opened up my laptop, trying to find the email from Jack.

    Luke made a disgusted face. "I don't get the point of marriage, why would you wanna stick to one chick your entire life?"

    "I think the only reason I want to get married is for legal reasons, you know? Like—God forbid—I'm in a coma, only family is allowed back there and they make the important choices. Or, buying a house together or something. It's better to have both partners on the lease married."

    "Go ahead," Luke said, "lie to yourself."

    I let out a chuckle, rolling my eyes. I saw him let out a chuckle of his own, a smile riding up his unshaven jaw. "Anyways, I have about ten questions for you tonight. Everything is being recorded, so," I droned off, hoping he understood that he had to only say what he wanted the world to know.

    Jack's magazine was a respectable magazine. It wasn't the biggest to ever exist, but it was surely up there. I mean, I've seen the numbers and I've also seen his mansion of a house. Whatever words I wrote were going all over a forty-page issue, they were going to be quoted, analyzed, distributed.

    "Yeah, yeah, whatever." Luke finished off his first beer, reaching down to grab another. He got comfortable in his new position, kicking out his feet until they just barely touched my thigh.

    He knew he was doing something to me, I knew it, I just knew it. Luke knew the things he did to me, I swore he could read my mind at times.

    I cleared my throat, reading over the first question before saying it out loud. "So, you were raised outside of Sydney, correct? You lived on lots of acres where you didn't even know your neighbors."

    "Nice facts," the blonde said. He leant back his head on the leather sofa, closing his eyes and coddled the beer as if his life depended on its effect—it probably did. "Yeah, I bonded with the wild kangaroos and dingos and my pet dog."

    "Really?"

    "No, you stupid American," he spat, "you think I'm gonna fucking touch a kangaroo? That shit is crazy."

    I tried to hold in my laugh because, after all, he did just insult me along with my country. "Come on, be serious with me."

    "It was pretty lonely, Mikey," he paused. "Can I call you that?"

    "Sure, whatever, continue." I looked over at him, trying to get the juiciest, worst secrets out of him. This was my job, I write about what the world doesn't know.

    "It was lonely, especially after both of my siblings left for university and all that, you know? Like, I suddenly had such a quiet house to just me and I hated it."

    "That's where you picked up guitar, right?"

    Luke lifted his head, furrowing his eyebrows and staring over at me. "Did you stalk me or something?"

    I laughed, "A little bit. I had to."

    He shook his head, taking another swing of his beer. His voice became hoarser, "I picked up guitar and never put it down. Cliché, right?"

    "Yeah," I couldn't help myself but giggle, "a little bit."

    "You have the cutest giggle," he said, letting out his own laugh. I could hear Luke moving around, scooting a little closer to me and taking another drink. "Next question."

    I scrolled down on my computer, trying to focus on the screen instead of his slow breath a few inches from me. "You're the baby of three boys, tell me about that."

    "Eh, I don't like talking about my family. They suck." He finished his second beer in record time, letting out a belch and wiping a hand over of his mouth. He opened the same cooler, taking out the next beer. Luke popped the lid with ease, leaning back his head and gulping it down.

    "Are you sure? You never talk about your family, don't you think the world wants to know about them?" I pushed my computer off my lap and onto the coffee table in front of us. I crossed my legs over one another, trying to scoot further away from the tipsy blonde.

    He shook his head, "Never, ever, ever. Next question."

    I sighed, looking at my screen a few feet away. "Tell me about Australia, I've never been."

    Luke leant closer to me, an uncomfortable vibe filling the room. He placed his right hand on my thigh, his left hand still clutching onto his beer.

    He rose his hand to my face, his lean fingers on my curved jaw. "You cute little American."   

    "Can you scoot back a bit? I like personal space." I tried moving further over, closer to the end of the couch. His hand on my face stopped me, though, pulling me closer.

    "No, I'm talking to you." Luke rested his head on my shoulder, getting far too touchy-feely for my comfort level. "Australia is stupid, everything can kill you."

    "What did you do there? As a kid? As a teenager?" I made myself as wide as I possibly could with my elbow digging into his pelvis and my shoulders frozen rock solid.

    "As a kid, I hid in my room. Then I grew up, and I hid in my room." Luke laughed at himself, "Now, I'm here. An adult, hiding in a room." His hand traveled down my jaw, his index finger trailing a path down my shoulder, across my inner elbow, then to my waist. His hand gripped onto my tee shirt, feeling my warm skin. "What about you, Mikey-poo?"

    "Same as you, kind of."

    Luke looked up, his chin digging into my collarbone. "You know what would make me happy?"

    "I really don't want to know." I was ready to end the interview. I made out my plan; I'd leave him alone, let him suffer a bit, then try again a different day with less beer involved or more people in the room.

    "I want a pretty boy like you on my lap."

    "Luke, you're straight and I'm nineteen." I started to stand up, getting his lean hands off of me. "We're gonna try again another day, I'm not doing this when you're a mess."

    "Come on, Princess, I'm always a mess. Make me happy, come sit on Daddy's lap."

    It was my turn to form my face into disgust. "Do not    call me princess and do not refer to yourself as that." I got him off of me, giving me my freedom to stand. I closed my laptop and picked up my phone, ready to turn off the recording.

    "Mikey," he dragged out my nickname. Luke was beautiful, even in his annoying state. There was something in the back of my mind begging me to give in and give him everything. But, that's not who I am. That's not who I will ever be.

    "I'm a writer, I'm sophisticated, I'm professional, I have things to do." I turned off my recording and packing up my computer, leaving to find Alex.

    I left Luke alone and it broke a bit of my heart.

What do you think of Luke?

How would you react if you were in Michael's position? Truly. Think of you as in this alternative universe.