Lia's POV:-

"Lia, let it be. Luke will curse me. And I myself, will feel bad for interrupting-"

"Oh shut it. It's just a lunch. There's nothing, to feel bad about," I wave Katie off. "And Luke wouldn't mind. I know that for sure."

"Still... He's intimidating," she admits nervously. "Like, a very pretty boy, with cold exterior, and the perfect set of white teeth."

"Teeth?" I snort. "Katie, he's just an introvert, and remains taciturn. You don't have to talk to him, if you don't want. I'll manage everything. Now come on, I'm hungry!" She reluctantly gives in.

Yes everybody, me and Katie, have become decent friends. On my first day to college, I sat beside this girl, who had to comment on everything. My paper thin patience wore out, when she said, "That's our Designing professor. And he's trans... Our trans teacher." Even the way she said her comments piqued me, like she was trying to provoke me into a hateful conversation.

"She's our teacher. That will do, in the future," I reply, with a clipped smile.

"Yeah, yeah, but he's trans," she continued conspiratorially.

"Dude, it's not something to point out separately. And she's a woman. Leave it at that." My irritated snap, mercifully shut her up. So if you imagine my situation, you will understand why I grasped onto, what looked like, the only tolerable chick, i.e. Katie. Because I know myself. I've been with myself all my life, and I'll really be needing somebody, who's going to remind me of assignment deadlines. I can't charm boys into, following me around like a pet anymore, because I have a damn boyfriend.

Whom, I love very much.

Katie, though not very bright intellectually, was basically a good person. She sometimes doesn't get my sarcasm, yet faithfully reports to me every morning. I didn't mind, as long as I have a companion to roam around with, who didn't make inappropriate comments.

"Luke, Katie will be joining us," I tell Luke as we approach his car. "That's okay right?" Luke and I, were in the habit of lunching together whenever our schedules allowed it. 

"Yeah sure," he shrugs, solemnly nodding at Katie. She gives him a weak smile.

"She's a little upset, cause our lecturer shouted at her for snoozing," I whisper to Luke, as Katie shuffles through her bag. "Couldn't just-"

"Baby, it's okay," he smiles softly, taking my bag. "Where do you ladies want to go?" he asks us both.

"Katie pick," I prompt her, so she doesn't feel left out. She gulps, still nervous and avoids Luke's eye contact. I look at her encouragingly.

She thinks for a moment, then says, "That French restaurant, that has dishes name that we can't pronounce."

"Brilliant," I cheer. The restaurant was in walking distance, so we set off on our pegs.

Luke was content in holding my hand, while I talked to Katie. She looked relieved, that she didn't have to converse with Luke, who was totally oblivious to her nervousness, making no attempts to extend acquaintance. I sigh thinking, how things are going to be this way.

...............................

Luke is sitting on the bed, intently typing into his laptop, when I enter the bedroom. Weirdly, I have started enjoying the sound of keyboard strokes. Many times, I fall asleep beside Luke, as he worked on his laptop, so I think the sounds must have worked its way, into the happier sections of my brain.

He stops typing, when I close the door, glances at me, glances at the coffee mug in my hand, and puts out his hand. I hand him the coffee mug, pat his head, and go to my side of the bed.

I had to finish a small work, for my first class tomorrow, before bed. This evening, I got busy in a shoot. After two months of living in Berkeley, I realized, my living expenses were taking a major hit on my savings. I had a rough estimate, of how long, before I might have to take up a part time job, but I miscalculated.

Accordingly, I contacted a modelling agency. Since I had work experience, I slithered into business pretty quickly. I didn't get a lot of offers, but enough that I didn't have to look for another job.

After finishing, I close my assignment, with the motive to tidy up the room. I have found out more about, Luke's need to have things kept properly. He always folds the bed in morning. Tidies the shelf, if my giant hand dislodges a stack of books. He will put back the clothes, that I littered around in the morning. It goes unsaid, that the clothes are folded, impeccably symmetric. It's annoying sometimes, because frankly, I feel guilty that he does all that, and I only contribute to the mess.

At first I had been a diva, and insolently left my things around. I'm not proud when I admit, that I left my panties on the handle of a kitchen cabinet, just to arouse a violent reaction from Luke. To my dismay, he said nothing of it, and acted like he expected me to do it, which in turn made me feel more juvenile.

I don't know why I flared up, because low key I was expecting my cupboard to have regained it's former glory, when I got up to arrange it. "Luke, stop folding and keeping my clothes inside!"

"Huh?" he looks up distracted.

"I said, leave my wardrobe alone. Why do you have to arrange it all the time?" I cross my hands.

"Why are you saying it, like that's a bad thing?" he asks dubiously, lowering his laptop.

"Cause, it is bad," I roll my eyes. "I like it to be messy. I want to live messy."

"What?" He looks baffled.

"Did you bonk your head today? I said, I want my stuff to be messy," I raise my voice.

"No, you don't," he replies blankly.

"Yes, I do!"

"Lia, stop shouting," he frowns. "There's no need for it."

"Don't tell me, what to do," I thunder.

"I am not..." he trails off tired. Then taking a deep breath, he explains, "Look, I like my surroundings to be organized. Organizing, is something that I tend to do, unconsciously. So could you, please, I earnestly request thee, as a humble roommate, to try and adjust to neater rooms?"

"Don't fucking sass me Wright," I , narrow my eyes. Then leveling him a stare, I coolly demand, "Just let the rooms be messy. Don't make a meal of, every useless wrapper you get." Sick satisfaction colors me, when a look of irritation crosses his features, but he quickly masks it.

"Fine, whatever my lady wants," he gives a bitter smile. Then he takes off his shirt, and throws it on the ground. "I won't pick it up, until you say otherwise," his voice is calm. It sounded a lot like a threat. I bite my cheek in loss, trying to formulate a bitchy reply. Meanwhile, he picks his cup and leaves the room. 

"I'm sorry."

"You should be," Luke says amused, chopping vegetables for me. I found him in kitchen, after my 58 seconds of self-reflection, that clearly placed me in the wrong from every reasonable direction. Picking a fallen carrot, I hop onto the counter.

"I had two teachers, irritate me. And I vent it out on you," I mumble. Luke smiles, and kisses my cheek. "You're no fun," I poke his tummy. "You don't even fight back."

"I fight, where it's required," he shrugs, resuming the knife-work.

"Okay Leo Tolstoy." Luke pokes my hip, with the blunt end of the knife. I watch him dice potatoes, for dinner. Like a proud teacher, I smirk at the rhythm of chopping. Luke was always roaming around me in kitchen, so I had forced him to learn knife work. 

Even back when I worked for chef's, I always wanted to be a sous chef. But now, I can pretend I have my own sous chef. Oh, by the way, I am a total bitch of a boss.

Once, I even managed to terrify Luke, when he peeled too much of a pineapple. I remember scolding him, and his mumbling out a meek apology. Agreed after a few minutes, he realized I scolded him too much over a trivial thing, and he didn't step into the kitchen for two days, but I managed to wheedle him back with sugary talk and chocolate kisses. He doesn't do much, but it was good help, to get washed and cut vegetables.

I love having a kitchen to myself, where I can experiment. And I feel, I have transmitted some of my love for cooking, to Luke also. Being a nerd, he's attentive and curious about what's happening. My best guess, chopping clomps does to Luke, like keyboard strokes do to me.

"Out of curiosity," he says, after putting the cubes in tupperware. "Living with me, isn't too awful, is it?" He comes to stand between my legs. I laugh, thinking, how I should be the one asking such questions.

"Baby, I lived with Max, and then Julian," I rest my elbows on his shoulder. "Compared to those dipshits, you are fucking Oreo truffle, covered in white chocolate," I finish with a chef's kiss. His eyes light up, and a crooked grin surfaces.

"I love you," he whispers in my ear. And soon we are taking off my tank, his shorts, my shorts, bumping against walls, and tables, falling into bed.

When you screw each other to exhaustion, you can't even bring yourself to give a damn about the soiled sheets. You just lay their naked bodies, tangled limbs, bright eyes, sweaty skin. You talk in whispers, because you've used all your voice in screaming and groaning. You tell each other, how you hate yourself for being so corny, and then continue to declare how much you love each other. How you want to do this everyday. How this feels, like the sole purpose of being born in the first place.

Okay I'll admit, the last one was me.

But seriously, if having sex with Luke is the reason I was created, I am definitely not complaining. My ego shoots high when after a moment, Luke gravely tells me, that I am right. We are meant to have sex, and we should go to an abandoned island, where we can hunt for food during day and fuck like animals at night.

Watching The Blue Lagoon, has its perks.

In the morning, whichever person has to leave first (most of the times, me), is followed by the other like a puppy. Like currently Luke is sitting on the bathroom counter, watching me comb my hair. He doesn't miss a single detail, memorizing every action of mine. Starting from the way I hold the comb, to the ending, till I collect the loose hair and throw them in the dustbin. He could totally nail those YouTube video's of 'Boyfriend does my makeup'. He watches fascinated how I draw my eyeliner bold, adding a wing if I'm in the mood. How I apply chapstick, and softly brush a red lipstick for extra color. Most of the times, his dark eyes manage to make me flush so I skip adding blush. He watches how I curl to put on my bra, how I zip my boots, how I sling my bag.

It is impossible for me, to wear an anklet in the house. Luke becomes overly attentive then, and somehow, with the lamest excuse, gets me undressed, continuing to unleash his primitive, or may I say barbaric mode.

Undoubtedly, I also know Luke's actions better than my own. I can tell by the way he moves, if something is wrong. His face may look blank to others, but I always know when it's a happy blank or an upset blank. I would always make him laugh, because I'm obsessed by the way the skin around his eyes, crinkle when he laughs. It's a big proper laugh, that glows in my chest.

I have also discovered, that Luke could be quite moody. Some days he's playful, and would mess up the living room feeling rebellious, then look at me, for acknowledgement or approval. I have learnt, the surest way of disappointing him, is to ignore his eager face. Upon failing to get a rise from me, he would proceed to climb over me, disrupt whatever I was doing, and wouldn't stop until I give him all the attention.

There are days when he's grumpy and lazy. It's amusing to watch him, meaninglessly fumble around his shirt. He would then comb his hair, and then sit down for a while. Like a pouty child, reluctant to go school, he would stomp around the apartment, in shirt and boxers. Then he might put on some pants. More stomping around. If I come in line of vision, wander around me and take whiffs off my clothes. More roaming around. Put some shoes on, then check his hair again.

Sulk quietly over, why they included Manufacturing Processes (a subject that he hates) in this semester. Tidy up the living room, and fold my clothes that I left lying around. Once I found him standing in the corner of the kitchen, bend over something like a naughty child stealing cookies. On going closer I found out, he really was stealing from my cookie stash.

"Would you just tell me, where you get these cookies from?" he would whine. "Or a name? Then I'll stop stealing from your jar." I had purposefully, not told him the name. So that I could catch him stealing, and fight with him. They were actually regular chocolate cookies, which he himself once bought. But me being so mysterious over it, made it tempting for Luke.

He also likes to keep his hair long, like in long strands. He got upset, when once the barber cropped it short. I loved it, because it gave him a sharp, neat, CEO type style, different from his usual adorable, playful bangs.

"Lia!"

I pause The Office, and rush to Luke because of his loud holler. He beckons me to bed, motioning at his laptop. Max, Ian, Alex and Dylan were on video call. Julian was present too, which is weird because we both are seldom invited to their chats. My brother would drive us away, saying our ears were too innocent for lad talks.

If only he knew, what all I have done..

"What's up baby doll?" Ian smiles into the camera, when I settle down.

I smirk, "Got a 69, from my Building Management teacher yesterday."

Max groans, "This is why, I don't invite you to these calls."

"Guys shush!" Alex scolds, when Max and I start bickering. "Lia, we wanted to know, if you are in?"

"In where?" I frown, glancing at Julian who looked freakishly excited.

"In, for the trip, baby doll," Dylan grins.

....................................

Sorry, for the bad update. I haven't updated this story in a while, and I just wanted to do a filler chapter before doing the trip chapter. Yep, I am bringing everyone back together like old times.

Take care lovelies!