Saving the Reject | Michael Clifford | Editing

t h i r t y ;

Charli

"Don't you dare," I commanded, moving out of Michael's reach as he attempted to pour water over my head.

"What?  You said you were hot," he attempted to defend, but his childish grin completely defeated the purpose.  "I was trying to help you out."

"Yes, because it definitely would have helped me to be walking around, wet, all day," I retorted with an eye roll.

Michael moved closer to me as we continued walking down the side street. "If that was the case, you know I would help you out, babe," he whispered playfully.  I pushed him away from me, the blood rushing to my face.

"You're disgusting," I declared as he laughed.

He once again moved closer to my side, picking up my hand in his and lacing our hands together, swinging them back and forth in exaggerated motions.  "You know I'm kidding," he assured me.

"Uh huh," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes at the dirty-minded boy beside me.  In response, he pull me over to him and placed a quick kiss to my cheekbone, causing me to smile immensely.

"You're cute, you know that?" Michael commented, glancing at me shyly.

I laughed a little, gently shaking my head.  "Not really, I mean, I don't look in the mirror too often," I muttered honestly.

"If I were as beautiful as you, I wouldn't stop looking at my reflection."

"Oh God," I chuckled, resting my forehead on his shoulder to hide my reddening face from him.  "You're way too cheeky today."

"All right, all right, I'll stop hitting on you," he said, speaking in a childish manor.  I thanked him as we turned to corner onto the main street that ran along the main harbor.  The Sydney Opera House - which, in my entire life in Sydney, I have never been to, surprisingly - was within walking distance.

"So what did you have in mind for lunch?" I questioned, giving his hand a quick squeeze, causing him to smile.  You have no idea how great of a feeling it is to be the reason behind Michael Clifford's smile.

"There's a great sandwich place up a little further.  It's also a book store, so I think you'll like it."  Why does he know me so well already?  That sounds amazing, and I'm wondering why I've never been to this place.  Michael started laughing.  "Okay, you're face brightened so quickly."

I tried to hide my smile in a pout, defending, "I enjoy books."

Michael leaned over, kissing my pout away.  It was such a comfortable thing to do, which is odd, considering we've only been doing this for a little less than a day.  With anyone else, I know for sure I would be completely uncomfortable doing this, but something about it just felt right.  If the human soul is made of stardust, Michael and I must be from the same, beautiful star somewhere out there in the never ending sea of galaxies.

"And I enjoy you," Michael spoke as he pulled away.  "So I guess we'll both be happy."

As we continued walking, I leaning against him, my head on his shoulder, as his arm wrapped protectively around my shoulders.

"Sir," said a soft-spoken, broken voice ahead of us.  I lifted my head from Michael's shoulder as I watch the interaction between a middle aged business man and a sickly skinny older homeless woman with an accent I couldn't quite pick out.  "Could you spare some change?" she asked, holding out a can with shaky hands.

"What, so you could buy yourself some drugs?" the man spat, and I gasped slightly, watching, horrified, as he knocked the can out of her hands.  "I'm no fool," he seethed, walking away with his head held high.  How can he have no respect for another human being?  I understand that the person he just disrespected was a homeless, black woman living in a rich, white man's world, but does he think that's an excuse to disrespect her so greatly?  No one deserves that kind of treatment.