Everybody Needs Somebody | M.C.

Five.

Word Count: 2,304

"No, Mom, I have not gotten a boyfriend yet!" I repeated three times too many. I was trying to change my clothes, but my mom was still on the phone with me, as she had been for thirty minutes. Her main questions basically consisted of boys, how my week was going, boys, how grandma was doing, and boys. She was so set on me getting a boyfriend since I'd always closed myself off from boys almost completely, other than the occasional guy friend.

"I'm sorry, but I still think one day you're going to admit you're a lesbian," She sighed, pausing, "Not that it would be a bad thing! I just really want grandkids. Well, not anytime soon, which I know I don't have to worry about because I'm pretty sure you're a vir-"

"Mom!"

"Sorry, sorry. But I would really like you to try to put yourself out there. Well, not out there. Keep your legs closed, but open to the right guys. Same with your heart," She said, and I rolled my eyes. My mom was always so blunt, it was a bit much sometimes. I was trying to get my shirt on, but I was holding the phone between my shoulder and ear, so the shirt wouldn't go over the phone. I was struggling between talking to her and tugging on the shirt when my door burst open.

"Whoa!" He shouted.

"Michael!" I shouted.

"I thought you said you weren't seeing a boy! Claire! Who's that boy?! Who is Michael?!" My mom shouted, and suddenly everyone was shouting.

I put down the phone, groaning that Michael had just seen me shirtless, and my mother was yelling at me about Michael. I pulled on the rest of my shirt, glaring at Michael, and put the phone back up to my ear.

"Mom, I gotta go. And before you overreact, Michael is barely even my friend and he definitely won't be the father of your grandchildren. Goodbye, Mom," I said, annoyed, but added, "Love you, I'll call you next week."

I hung up the phone, placing it on my nightstand and turned to Michael who was still staring at me from his current sitting position on my bed. I walked over to him, slapping his head.

"How did you even get in?" I lifted his chin up to look at my face rather than my chest, which he seemed extremely distracted by.

"I have a key," He answered simply, finally looking somewhere else other than me. His eyes roamed around my room, "I like your room."

"Thanks. What are you doing here?" I asked, sitting beside him on the bed. He shrugged, smiling at me. Of course.

"I wanna do something," He stood up, grabbing my arm. I complied, knowing he wanted me to get up. I sighed, slouching slightly. I wasn't tired, but it seemed like everything I was with Michael he made me feel exhausted. He had just gotten there and he already wanted to leave.

"Oh, I know where to go!" He exclaimed, tugging on my arm again, pulling me out of the room.

"Michael..." I groaned, trying to shake out of his grip. He smiled back at me, guiding me to the front door. We got in his car, him immediately turning on music. Mayday Parade.

He said nothing as we took off to wherever we were going. It had been two days since that incident at the beach, and since the car ran out of gas. For some reason, I kept thinking about his words that morning after. He seemed so content with the situation, like he wasn't upset we had to sleep in his car. But even I wasn't really upset about it after it was all over. He was pretty comfortable to sleep on.

The ride there was wordless, but the music played through the car speakers. I looked over to Michael, his eyes squinting slightly at the brightness of the day, his hair blowing softly in the wind that blew in through the open window. His lips still had a small smile on them, and his hand was resting gently on the steering wheel, as if he didn't give a shit about a single thing. I wish I could be that carefree, content with life.