06. babe.

✖️

"Okay, he's just teasing the fandom at this point," Ashley states, pointing her lolipop in accusation at me. She's hanging upside down on my bed, a waterfall of her multicoloured hair draped over the mattress. "Liking your pictures and shit. Does he not know what that does to us poor little fangirls? Especially the kinky ones."

I shrug, exiting out of the game on my phone I've been paying zero attention to, despite it being open for the past half hour.

"Have you two been texting a lot?" Chloe asks, coming into the room with a bowl of popcorn. As well as my phone being a distraction, my computer screen's playing countless 5 Seconds of Summer interviews, too, meaning the girls have come around for the night to binge watch every single one.

"Depends what you mean by a lot."

"I can't believe our best friend is about to get a famous boyfriend," Bailey swoons, rather mockingly, though it still makes me giggle as I watch her place her hand over her chest. "We're living in a fanfic!"

"You're funny," I say sarcastically, giving her a light nudge, and she laughs. "Cut it out, will you? It's not going to happen."

"Lophie will happen. I refuse to let it fail," Ashley points her lolipop at me again.

"He probably talks to a bunch of different girls on Instagam, you don't know. He is Luke Hemmings, after all." I say.

Bailey scoffs. "Right. He's Luke Hemmings," she emphasizes. "The most awkward one in the band. The one who used to be fucking obsessed with penguins. The one who was scared of English Love Affair getting released because it was too 'raunchy' and he didn't want his mom to find out," I wait for her to finish, wanting to know where she's planning to go with all of this.

"Point being..?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Point being, Luke isn't a fuckboy." Chloe states, plainly, as she offers the bowl to me. I shake my head, indicating I'm alright. "He can't be."

"How are you so sure of that?" I ask. "None of us know him. He could the the biggest fuckboy on the planet and we wouldn't know any better."

"Or he could be the sweetest guy you'll ever meet," she tells me. "Yet here you are, leaving him on read every chance you get."

"It's not my fault," I defend myself. "I'm just... awkward."

"No, you're just an idiot."

I roll my eyes, disregarding Ashley's sudden comment as my phone vibrates with even more notifs than before. I've gone up from 9k followers to 17k in one night, and although the thought would have excited me a while back, it just nauseates me now.

I lie in bed wide awake, hearing the steady breathing of my friends around me. The air in the room is warm because Bailey hates sleeping in the cold, whereas I'm the complete opposite.

Standing up, I kick my sleeping bag off of me, being very careful not to make too much noise. I walk over to the computer, unplugging the speakers and putting a stop to the very quite hum of I Can't Remember, before closing the door behind me and making my way out.

The time reads 2am, somewhere along the lines of being ten past or quarter past, but the hallway is so dark that I can't tell. The only light I'm getting is from my phone, and even that's dim.

Give me a film to watch

I'm boreddd

Well this is a change ;-)

Raising an eyebrow, I smirk, feeling the banisters against the wall as I walk cautiously down the dark stairs.

What's a change?

You texting me first

Do you want me to stop?

Nah. Don't Stop

I hate to admit it, but I actually laugh.

Did you just

Why

Ha ha. Did you laugh?

No, I giggled loudly

I bet that's a sweet thing to hear.

Damn you, Hemmings, I think, pursing my lips. Making me blush like a little schoolgirl. Fucking bastard.

You're so flirty

Like calm down

I have a boyfriend

No you don't

Are you saying I can't get a boyfriend? Rude

No, I'm saying you wouldn't want a boyfriend.

The corner of my mouth turns upwards into a half-smile, half-grimace, for the thought of Luke knowing about my many commitment issues makes me cringe.

Why wouldn't I?

Because you don't like little boys.

Of course I don't. That's paedophilia, you sick fuck

Ha ha, I didn't mean it like that

What did you mean it like, then?

Although I'm asking, there's a part of me that already knows the answer. And when Luke replies with a link to one of my photos, I know I'm not wrong.

This.

The picture is of me, wearing a shirt with the word 'Daddy' printed in bubbly pink writing. I have to stop myself from cringing at my own post.

It was something I'd gotten a while back from Bailey as a late birthday present, and I've only ever worn it twice; once, to take the picture, and right now, when I failed earlier on to find anything else to wear.

I bite my lip, grinning down at my phone like a madwoman. I could send him a picture right this second, of the cute little pink-and-white short ensemble I have on, but I decide against it.

As much as Luke has shown interest through our conversations, and as much as I've daydreamed about him pinning me against the wall with his hand wrapped around my neck and his fingers knuckle deep inside of me, I'm not so easily swayed. It's going to take a lot more than the odd random message every now and again to get to me.

What if I told you I had a boyfriend, and his name was Chase?

Great, I think, sighing. Now I have to convince my gay neighbour to play the part.

He doesn't start typing for a while. He's seen the text, clearly, and a few more minutes void of the chat bubble pass by until I finally get another message.

Then I'd ask you why you think it's okay to lie to me.

Gnawing on my bottom lip, I can't help but feel guilty. It's like I've just been caught doing something I shouldn't have.

But I'm not lying...

Your posts say otherwise, babe.

Babe? I blink cluelessly at the text, as if the more I do so, the bigger the chance of 'babe' disappearing gets.

This guy obviously has it in his mind that it's okay to call me that. Not that I'm complaining, at all; I'm actually probably loving it way more than I should, but things are moving a little too fast now, considering how I only know Luke through the few messages I get from him every three or so hours everyday.

We talk for a while longer, the conversation spiralling deeper and deeper into dangerous territory as we unknowingly resort to using words on a screen to 'flirt' with the other person.

It's like we know what we're doing, but we also don't- I'm aware of this because I've spent the majority of my life clueless as to how I should live it, causing the feeling to become almost second nature to me.

I figured out a lot more things about Luke, stuff that I never knew or thought about until now. Like how he likes the colour blue because of the ocean, yet hates his eyes. Or how he's very close friends with Halsey yet is always much too terrified to speak to Melanie Martinez. I was shocked when he'd told me, and I had to constantly remind myself that he was famous- meaning, he probably sees the celebrities I look up to and love every single day, without fail. He probably thinks nothing of it, too, whereas I would just about faint everytime they walked past me.

Seriously? You'd freak out over Halsey and Mel but not over me?

That hurts, Sophie. :-(

I laugh, rolling my eyes despite him not being able to see me.

I did freak out over you. Like, a lot

I cried and died and I actually think I'm still dead and just dreaming

Dreaming?

Mhm. I don't believe it's you. Is that bad?

I'm hesitant as I send it, not wanting to offend him but also wanting to tell him the truth. If I'm going to continue speaking to Luke, he should have the right to know.

Nah. A little offended, though, that you think I'm a catfish

Not a catfish, exactly.

Hmm?

One of the other boys thinking it'd be funny to pull a joke like this on a fan, however, y e s

Although there's a sense of humour in my message, all I really want is for Luke to prove to me that it's him. How I'm expecting him to do that, I don't know.

And anyway, it's not like he needs to prove anything. He's messaging me from his own account; the one with the verified tick and the pictures and the videos and the Instastories I manage to fangirl over every single day. He's hardly a fake.

Yet there's something nagging at me, tugging at the strings in the back of my mind, telling me to get some sort of proof so that I'm not acting like a paranoid, stuck-up cow the whole time. It's annoying, but it can't be helped.

What do I have to do to get you to believe that it's me?

I don't know

I've never caught a catfish out before

But I'm not a catfish :-(

Right. Just one of the boys. Michael, maybe?

What

Or Calum?

Wait no

Hi, Ashton!

:(

(-:*

The next few messages are slow, caused mainly by my inability to stay focused and Luke's inability to be anything but busy. He tells me he has to go do something quickly and I say okay. I don't blame him. It must be tough living the life of someone that others adore so much.

The hype over his follow has somewhat died down and, for obvious reasons, I'm thankful. I've been much less active on social media lately, though, and it's mainly because I'm far too afraid of what others think.

Which is a little strange, considering how my entire Instagram is just sex, sex, sex and sex.

I hear some shuffling upstairs, making me pause because the girls may be awake and wondering where I am. Then the sound of clumsy stumbling and a high-pitched scream echoes throughout the empty house- a really loud scream, at that.

My bedroom door wrenches open all of a shdden, making me jump. However, it slams shut the second it does so, muffling the ear-splitting squeals and confusing me to no end. I raise an eyebrow, looking up towards the dark hallway.

Just as I'm about to move from my comfortable position on the couch, my phone begins to buzz again. Only this time, it's not from Instagram.

[INCOMING CALL]

Despite the fact that it's now 3am and I'd just heard a Hollywood-worthy death scream come from upstairs, I slide the lock to the right and answer the call anyway.

"Hello?" I press it up against my ear, my fingers playing absentmindedly with the drawstrings of my pyjama pants.

I hear crinkling, then a sigh, and someone clearing their throat. I sit up, hearing the bustling background behind them.

"Hey," the person chuckles, sounding breathless and very familiar. I freeze.

I refuse to move, or even utter a single sentence. The most I can get out is a shakey breath. "Who... who is this?"

"You know who," they say. Their Australian accent is as thick as ever, and I can practically envision the cocky smirk growing on Luke's face as he parts his lips to speak again. "Do you believe me now?"

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