You can Bet on Me

Part 20 ~ Heartbreak

Maddison
I couldn't believe what I had just done. I had just kissed the Michael Peterson, Mr Hotshot Tough Guy, practically a celebrity in our school, in my driveway. I was melting behind the closed door, my heart still racing from our breath-taking kiss. Maybe, since Michael had kissed plenty of girls in his time, I was sure, he didn't feel anything, but the mere thought of it made my knees go weak and made me collapse in a puddle of goo.
I crouched down behind the closed door, safely away from Michael's warm eyes that seemed to make my heart skip a beat and the vying eyes of the night.
Why? Why did I do it? I reached my hand up and touched my lips, unable to believe what I had just done. That was when I realised – I didn't regret it. I didn't hate it, like I should have. If anything, I wanted more. More. I wanted to feel his mouth on mine once again and I was suddenly wishing I hadn't pulled away. From outside, I heard Michael's fancy sports car's engine turn on and soon, fading sounds of Michael driving away could be heard.
And then everything was quiet, as if an absolute miracle of all miracles hadn't just happened two minutes ago.
I felt lightheaded and dizzy – Michael made me crazy. Slowly getting to my feet, I went straight to my room, careful to be quiet. Mum had apparently decided against staying up to wait for me, and when I checked the time on my phone, I realised how far past curfew I was. Creeping to my room, I didn't bother to shower, the memory of me and Michael's mind-blowing kiss still on my mind.
Pulling on some pyjamas and washing off my makeup, I closed my eyes and finally, the effect of a long, tiring day took its toll and I was asleep.
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It had only been two days after me and Michael's kiss, yet it was still the first thing on my mind when I pulled up at the school entrance and Danielle and Eleanor raced out the door. Abagail and Addison had been home less and less recently, and whenever they were, they were busy on their phones or doing makeup to go on a date once again.
And luck just seemed to have it out for me, because as soon as I got out of my car, I saw Michael. He was standing casually talking to one of his friends, and I desperately wanted to avoid talking to him. Seeing him made the kiss scene we shared two nights ago replay on repeat in my head, down to every last detail. I decided to try and sneak past him, but he quickly spotted me.
"Hey, Mads." When I slowly turned around to look at him, I found him already grinning at me, his easy grin that he flashed at every girl making my knees go weak.
"Hi." My voice was so soft that I wondered if he had even heard it.
"Can I walk you to class?" he asked, flashing another one of his famous grins. Some girls nearby squealed and I took no notice as Michael got closer to me. My throat went completely dry and I hated the effect he had on me. Or at least I thought so.
"Uh, sure." I said, letting him take my bag. I was thinking to say no, but my stupid mouth just had to go out of its way and agree on impulse. Around him, I felt as though I no longer had control over my own body and I was suddenly walking side-by-side with him though the school corridors.
"What class have you got first?" Michael asked.
"Oh, uh, Science, I think." I replied, hating how doubtful and pathetic my voice sounded.
"Cool. Last week, I'm pretty sure some kid exploded part of their table in the Lab." Michael said, and I could tell that he was trying to build conversation.
"Bet the school didn't like that," with an eyeroll, I added, "the school absolutely hates having to pay extra fees for stuff kids break."
"Yeah, well, he got a detention and his parents were called." Michael replied with a light laugh. We walked in absolute silence, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop my gaze from wandering over to him every once in a while.
I was fully aware of all the stares we were getting. Some girls looked on at us in disgust, jealousy, and some girls were even close to tears. Soon, I spotted Michael's ex sashaying down the corridors, and I suddenly felt incredibly ugly. His ex was flawless – her face was free of blemishes and pimples, and she had a strangely perfect nose shape. Her sharp blue eyes were big and her eyelashes were probably fake. Her entire face seemed caked with makeup, and I was sure that if you were to put a spoon to her face, you would peel off ten kilos of makeup. Her hair was perfectly styled and cascaded down past her shoulders to her lower back in beautiful, soft curls of gold. She was wearing designer clothing that even I could tell was Gucci and had a leopard-print handbag.
She seemed so beautiful that if I were to stand beside her, even for a split second, I would look like the troll under the bridge and she would be the princess. When she saw me with Michael, she looked at me with disdain and even a flicker of disinterest, but she brushed past me all the same and sauntered past.
Michael must have noticed me staring after her receding figure because he said, "don't mind her. She's just jealous that I've got a beautiful girlfriend like you to replace her."
I smiled at his words, but I knew he was only saying that to make me feel better. I knew it, he knew it, hell, everyone knew it. Just one look at her and everyone would know that I was no match to her beauty, much less even a competitor in that field. She was brave, bold, beautiful, sassy, and I was just, well, me.
It wasn't long before we arrived at my Science class and I waved goodbye to Michael as the first warning bell rang.
"I'd better run," he flashed me a grin and ran off, and I only then realised that I had been holding my breath. Taking in five good gulps of air, I entered the classroom and my eyes immediately found Hailey sitting in the back of the classroom reading a book. I took a seat beside her and she looked up from her book to smile one of her stunning smiles at me.
"Hey, how were your weekends?" she asked, putting her book down to look at me.
"They were okay," that was obviously a total lie. My weekends were amazing because Michael kissed me, but no way would I ever reveal that to her. "Yours?"
"My weekend was absolutely terrible," Hailey groaned, emphasising her words with an eyeroll so large that I thought her eyes would roll out of her head. She began to tell me about how she was forced to babysit her younger cousin who vomited on her twice. I was barely listening, my mind too lost with my own thoughts.
Class went by faster than I thought and soon, it was the end of the day. I was at my locker, putting away my books. I was thinking to go find Michael, but I decided against it and to just go home to avoid making my life more complicated than it already was. But luck was against me once again because I crashed straight into him – literally – when I rounded a corner.
"Sorry," Michael was the first to apologise as he offered his hand to help me get up. I avoided grabbing his hand because touching him at all did funny things to my stomach and stood up myself.
"Can I take you home?"
"Uh, sure." I checked the time on my phone and was alarmed when I realised how long I had taken. "Actually, sorry, can't. I've got to take Ellie to her dance recital."
"How long does that go for?" Michael asked. I wished he would stop asking questions, but yet again, I couldn't get enough of his voice.
"Uh, like, four hours," I tried not to groan as I suddenly realised how long I would have to be there for. "And I have to wait for the entire thing to be over because I have to pick her up later."
"Fine then. How about I buy you some food while that happens?" my heart skipped a beat. He definitely wasn't asking me out; just asking to have a simple meal while Eleanor was at her dance recital, but why did my head make it out to be so much more? I swallowed and replied thickly, "um, sure. That would actually be great."
I was thinking of saying no. But it seemed like my mouth had a whole other idea and agreed quickly. Urgh. How pathetic did I sound, losing control of myself when faced with him?
"Great." Michael grinned. "You good with going to Ferguson's?"
"Yeah, but only after I drop Ellie off," I replied.
"Cool. I can't quite pick you up, so I'll meet you there?" Michael asked. I nodded and Michael finally let me push past him as I scurried to my car, desperate to get away from him because I was afraid to say something else stupid. I got in my car and drove off to pick up Eleanor, and once she was happily sitting in the back babbling away about her 'wonderful' day, I dropped her off at her dance recital. Danielle had volleyball training at school until some time around four thirty and then her friend's mum would pick her up for a sleepover. Seriously, Danielle had far too many sleepovers.
Abagail had texted me earlier that her boyfriend – Sam, or something – would be dropping her off at home and Addison had also texted me that she was going to a party after school, so I didn't need to pick up either of them. The day's schedule seemed to work out well for me, except I wasn't sure if I wanted it to work out well. If it worked out well, I would have to go with Michael to Ferguson's (date?), and I wasn't sure if I wanted that or not yet.
When I got to Ferguson's, it wasn't as crowded as it was last time I had been there. Mondays usually weren't as busy for the little fast-food restaurant, but the weekends and Fridays were absolutely packed. I went inside and Michael was already waiting inside at a two-seat table. He smiled widely when he saw me and I couldn't help but smile back. Michael's smile was infectious, and so was his good mood. I came over and sat down on the other seta opposite to him and he said, "I hope you don't mind. I've ordered some food already – what you got last time."
He gave me a sheepish smile and I replied, "that's fine. That order is like my set combo every time I come to Ferguson's, and I probably would have ordered that as well."
The meal wasn't as awkward as it was last time – Michael struck up a nice conversation and made me laugh many times.
Eventually, the conversation somehow made its way to me asking Michael: "what do you want to be when you grow up, putting aside your parents' wishes?"
"I..." Michael looked away. "I don't know. As a kid with my future set, I've never really tried to dream."
"Well then, what do you like to do?" I asked, suddenly aware that I was probably prodding around at personal information. "Actually, never mind."
"No, it's alright," Michael said. "I like to... I like to code games. And I know, it may sound really, really stupid but—"
"It doesn't sound stupid," I protested, standing up in my seat. "That's amazing. You know, you don't have to follow your parents' wishes. You could always become a game developer. I'm pretty sure there's this large game developing company that's looking for new employees."
"That would be amazing," Michael's eyes seemed to shine brightly, but then they dulled. "But I can't. My parents wouldn't allow it."
"Then to hell with your parents. If they don't support you in what you want to do, force your hand down on things you don't want, then you can hardly call them parents at all," I said brazenly, meaning every word.
"Thanks," Michael recovered himself and asked, "so what about you? What do you want to do, as in, really want to do?"
"Don't laugh if I tell you," I warned him.
Michael laughed. "I won't."
"You're already doing it, and I haven't even said what I wanted to do yet." I pointed out, half-teasing.
"Alright, alright. I'm listening," Michael looked more serious and stopped laughing, but his eyes still sparkled with humour.
"Are you though?" I looked at him.
"What do you expect?" Sarcastically, Michael scrunched up his face into the least-serious face I could think of and said in a jokingly deep and gravelly voice, "how's this?"
I burst out laughing and shook my head. Michael's face relaxed and he laughed as well, his laugh so much deeper than mine, I noticed. Our food came just then, and I was almost disappointed that our conversation had ended so easily. But Michael didn't end the conversation just there – he continued to ask, "so, tell me. I promise I won't laugh, and if I do, you can throw my fries at me."
I began laughing again at the thought of throwing fries at Michael as he grinned.
"Okay, I will." I took a breath and then said, "I want to own my own bakery, one day. I love baking, as you probably know."
I rose my gaze to meet Michael's. He didn't laugh. He smiled.
"That's a good dream," his grin made my stomach become a Circus of flips. I smiled hopefully and said, "thanks for not laughing."
With a cheeky grin, I added, "but I'm still going to throw your fries at you." I lurched forward and grabbed a handful of his fries from his plate and threw them at him.
"Hey!" he laughed in protest, catching a fry in his mouth and eating it. I laughed. I never would have thought that the Michael Peterson, Mr Hotshot Tough Guy, could be so humorous. It wasn't hard to figure out why people were drawn to him like a magnet – he was funny, easy to be around, and could always lighten the mood.
We finished our food and kept chatting – I found out more about Michael and his home life. It turned out that the easy-going, funny guy at school was actually wildly disregarded by his parents, which is how he was allowed to throw so many lavish parties – he simply wasn't. His parents just didn't care enough and weren't around enough to be there and disapprove of those things. Hearing his sadly lonely childhood made a new gate of sympathy open up inside me, until, that was, he ordered some more fries and took the chance to throw them at me.
After that, we just ended up throwing around fries until a staff came over and politely asked us to stop wasting food. We had agreed and as soon as the staff had left, we had burst out into laughter. Soon, it was already sunset and I was surprised at how quickly the time had flown by.
"I've got to go to the bathroom, I'll be back soon." Michael said after downing his fourth milkshake. I myself had felt guilty because Michael had refused to let me pay for anything in the meal, insisting that it was his treat to me, so I didn't order much more than I had to. I sat on the table waiting for Michael, but that was when Sarah and some of her cronies sauntered into Ferguson's. Sarah seemed so out of place at Ferguson's – she was dressed in a short dress (and so short it barely covered her underwear) and her face, as usual, was caked in makeup. She seemed far too rich and posh and well-dressed to be in such a casual, beat-up old fast-food restaurant like Ferguson's, so why was she there? I tried to ignore her presence, but she spotted me all to quickly and I saw her lips turn up in a devilish smirk. I shivered under her cold, calculating gaze and just sat still as she said something to her cronies and sauntered over to me.
"Hey, Maddison," her words sounded high-pitched and in the least-friendly tone imaginable. She didn't waste any time and got straight to the point of her visit to me. "So, you know he'll get bored of you eventually, right?"
"Who?" I asked knowingly.
"You know who," replied Sarah haughtily, her icy-blue eyes watching me intently for any reaction whatsoever. "Anyhow, I'm here to tell you the truth about your 'relationship' with Michael."
I shivered. Refusing to give her the pleasure of seeing any reaction from me, I kept a plain face and asked, "and what truth is there that I don't already know?"
"That you were a bet," Sarah replied simply. I remembered back to the time in the bathroom when I had been harassed by the four girls and how they had also told me that I was simply a bet, but I hadn't believed them. I couldn't bring myself to not trust Michael – he genuinely seemed like a good person, and he would have told me if I had been a bet, right? Sarah didn't stop there.
"I'm telling the truth, you know." Sarah said.
I gritted my teeth and hissed, "you would really say anything to get back at Michael, wouldn't you, witch?"
"Oh, that's sweet." Sarah purred. "You trust your 'boyfriend'. Well, too bad that your boyfriend isn't trustable. Oh look, here comes the liar now." I looked over my shoulder and saw Michael coming out of the bathroom. As soon as he saw Sarah at my table, he looked a mix of anger and maybe even... fear? Michael picked up the pace and with his long strides, he was at our table again in seconds and said, "what do you want, Sarah?"
"Oh, to just explain to your pretty little trusting girlfriend here that she misplaced her trust," Sarah smirked as Michael's face paled slightly.
"Sarah, get away—" Michael didn't get to finish her sentence before Sarah shushed him.
"I don't think I will," she smirked, "not before I explain to your pretty girlfriend here how much of a liar and an asshole you are." Sarah calling me 'pretty' may have been a compliment, but it didn't sound like one. It made me shudder. She turned to me with a malignant glint in her eyes. "So, Maddison, you see, have you ever wondered why Michael asked you out so randomly when he'd never even looked twice in your direction before? Why you only recently had your first date after almost a month? Why someone like him would ask out someone like you?"
As much as her words hurt, they were all truthful accusations. I hadn't wondered about those questions before, but the more she spoke, the more I realised she was right, as much as I'd hate to admit it.
"Oh yes, your seemingly perfect boyfriend here is just a liar. A liar and an ass," Sarah smirked gleefully. "And those things aren't even the main part." She fished out her phone from her tiny little purse and played a recording to me. I heard boys laughing and voices I didn't recognize talking.

"Hey bro, I bet you a hundred bucks that you can't get that Maddison girl to be your girlfriend for a month." A deep, amused voice said.
"What?" I could tell that it was Michael's voice. "Why the heck?"
"Why the heck not? Hey, get me in on this." Another voice piped up, laughing.
"Why you so hesitant to do it, Mr hotshot?" joked another guy.
"It's because he's a f*cking chicken, that's why," whoever had said that began making terrible squawking chicken imitations. "Oh, look at me, I'm Mr hotshot f*cking chicken! Squawk! Squawk! I'm so scared of a bet to get a girl that I'll become a fried chicken! Squawk!"
"Fine, you've got yourself a deal, James."

I felt broken. Torn. As much as I tried to mask it, I couldn't hide the hurt I was feeling. Sarah picked up on it and smirked, taking her phone back. I could tell that the recording wasn't fake – it really was Michael and whoever his friends were. My heart curled and I looked over to Michael, the pain and heartbreak clearly showing on my face by his reaction.
"Is... is she telling the truth?" I wanted to hear Michael say it. I wanted to hear him say the final words I needed to decide how I felt about the entire situation, and so far, it was looking grim. I hoped, deep down, that Michael would completely deny it and tell me that Sarah was lying, but he didn't. He avoided my gaze and I knew that Sarah was telling the truth. My eyes began to feel hot and I knew that tears would spill soon.
"I had heard," I swallowed, refusing to let the tears spill out just yet. "From people that I had just been a bet before. But I believed you. Believed that you were a good person and that you would never do that to me and that if I were a bet, you would have told me. But I guess I was wrong."
I turned around to leave, but Michael grabbed my wrist ever so gently yet so firm and pleading. I refused to turn around and face him and let him see the look of pain and anger on my face that had decided to surface and just stood there.
"Let go," my voice cracked. It was clear that I was hurt. Breaking.
"Mads, please. Let me explain," Michael's words were desperate and pleading and pained all at the same time, and I was surprised that he felt something at all while breaking another girl's heart. How many hearts had he broken? I couldn't help but wonder. Had I been the only one to fall victim to his lies and bets? My heart ached with a feeling of betrayal and I wondered why it hurt so much. I shouldn't have felt pain, but I did. I felt agony and brokenness and anger.
"There's nothing left to explain," I croaked, my voice coming across much colder and harsher than I had initially intended, but I didn't correct myself. I turned around to face him as the first of many to come tears spilled out. "And don't call me that. You lost the right to use it." With that, I jerked my hand out of his grasp and ran outside. Secretly, I had been hoping that Michael would come after me. Tell me that it was all a lie. But he didn't.
Outside, the sky was dark and grim and cloudy, just how I felt. I couldn't keep my tears in anymore and they all spilled out in a mess of confusion and brokenness and pain. How? How could he do this to me? And why did it hurt so much?
That was when I realised why it hurt, why it caused me agony – it was because I loved Michael Peterson.
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