four
"There's this really hot girl in my bio class," Luke trails on. "Her boobs... Oh my god,"
"Luke!" I screech. "I don't want to hear about you biology buddy's boobs!" I giggled as we walked along the sidewalk.
"Well Shannon, we made it through the day without crying," he said slowly.
"We are the children of world class surgeons Hemmings," I chuckled sadly. "Nothing affects us,"
"Yeah, that's kind of the sucky part about it," he laughed.
We continued to joke around while trying to bring up our spirits. Once we reached my house he ran up to his "room" and left me alone in the kitchen. He seemed to be trying his best not to think about Lindsey. According to him, she was the love of his life. I couldn't help but worry about him. I wasn't sure if he was ever going to really move on. Sure he liked other girls and dated a few between now and the fire. The only reason he hasn't kept a relationship was because he wasn't able to let himself love someone else. It hurt to see him in so much pain.
I felt so different from him.
It was as if I didn't feel anything.
I wasn't able to cry over things that should upset me or become angry. I didn't really have feelings. It was like I was constantly trapped in this state of ... Nothingness.
I have always thought I got it from my father. He truly didn't know how to love or appreciate another human being. He didn't really want me at all. I was an only child living in a world where my parents were never home and people didn't notice me.
Luke and I were very similar in ways people couldn't imagine. Our parents expected us to become surgeons just like them. It was very hard to keep up. I had spent most of my life in the walls of hospitals. I knew how to do sutures and I had sat through constant plastics and neurosurgeries. It was all they ever really taught me. My parents never taught me normal life skills. My mother didn't teach me how to sue or cook. My dad never showed any interest in me at all. They just didn't want me. One of the main reasons we came to America was because they hoped I could be more independent here. They wanted me to grow up in a place where all cultures were excepted. But none of that really mattered to me. I just wanted them to care.
Luke's parents were the same way. The two of us practically lived together. He spent the night at my house every day of the week except Saturday's. He always went back to the loft him and his parents occupied because that was the only night they ever had off. My house was quite big. Luke had his own room at my place.
Well, I wouldn't exactly call it his room but it was a small room he slept in. It had almost all of his clothes in it and he spent most of his time in there anyway. Our parents never really minded. They knew this kind of stuff was hard to us. There was a small period in time where our parents didn't come home for a month. It was hard on the both of us but we had each other in the end. My thoughts were interrupted when I heard a ding go off and a buzz vibrate against my leg. I slid my phone out of my pocket to see a text from Ashton. It was very plain and simple.
Come over, we need to work on our project.
I quickly replied and asked for directions. I already knew exactly where he lived because Luke had shown me before when he was ranting about how much he despised him but I didn't want Ashton to think I was crazy. He quickly replied with an address that I then saved under his contact.
"I have to go to Ashton's, can I borrow the car?" I said quickly. Luke and I technically shared the car. Our parents bought it for us a few months ago. But he still thought of it as his and I really didn't mind.
"Why Ashton's?" Luke snapped. He walked down the large steps.
"We're working on a project for art," I mumble. He nods his head and tosses me the keys.
"Be back at 10," he chuckled. I nodded my head the walked down the driveway to meet his car.
-
After about 5 minutes I had pulled into Ashton's overgrown driveway. And by that, I mean in between the cracks of the concrete, weeds sprouted out like crazy.
A few seconds later Ashton appeared in his doorway. He waved his hand signaling me to come inside. He had no emotion in his cold eyes. I awkwardly nodded my head and followed behind him slowly. Once I stepped inside the house my nose was shot with the smell of cigarettes and must. He directed me to a room down the hallway. I stepped inside to see poster lining the walls. There was a drum set in the corner of the room that seemed in interest me. He took a seat on the shabby bed then signaled me to follow him. I took a seat and pulled out a sheet of paper.
"Okay so music right?" I questioned.
"Yeah, I've got an idea," he said awkwardly.
I nodded my head and handed him the sketchbook. His hand put its self to work and drew up some pictures of a few music legends. I couldn't help but smile. He and I had a very similar taste in music. He was very good at drawing clearly. I could never do what he was doing. I watched as he drew the pictures carefully, each one had their own qualities.
After a good fifteen minutes, he dropped his pencil and handed me the notebook hastily.
"Oh my god," was all that escaped my lips.