BAD OMENS ✬ luke hemmings

6.5 | olive branch

Aria, parked on Michael's driveway, waits for her red-haired friend. Maybe it's a bit of a reach, or too soon, for her to attempt a reconciliation – but driving him to school in the morning for their first exam, of many, is what the girl considers to be a fail-safe plan. 

Aria has been driving Michael to school every day since the beginning of senior year, and despite the week they've spent in no contact, habits are hard to break.

Besides, the guy can't possibly refuse a ride! He has no money, licence, or one else to drive him! Aria thinks of herself as the best and only choice Michael has – and as far as she's aware, the bus doesn't bother to drive by his house anymore.

Anxiously tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, the girl stares at the closed front door of the house, her mind silencing the music playing through the speakers as she waits for Michael to walk out. 

She's nervous, feeling like it's the first time she ever went over to his house when they were fourteen – when Aria stared at her phone, waiting for Michael to reply to her text as she sat next to her dad in the car, telling her to knock on the door.

He better not be late. Knowing Michael, she wouldn't put it past him—but they've got an hour until they're supposed to be sitting in the gym, and knowing how mocks went, the senior lounge and library are going to be packed with the entire grade going over literary devices for the paper one or watching videos about 'how to get a 7 in IB Lang and Lit.'

However, as the front door pulls open and Michael steps out – in sweats and a purposefully ripped shirt – Aria sits up and rolls down her window. The boy sees her slight smile, cautious wave, and groans but walks around to the passenger's side. He knew she'd still show up, and even though a small part of him wished he walked out to see an empty driveway, a bigger part was glad that Aria was there.

He slides into his seat, which hasn't been adjusted or altered since, and buckles in, crossing his arms as he stares out the window. Aria's not say anything; she won't do more than she has to – which is drive to school in an eerily uncomfortable silence – but at least this is a start.

Aria drives to school as if nothing has changed, but everything has at the same time. They still have their routine, but the silence is forced and unsettling. Michael's never been the quiet type; he always makes his discomfort, possible annoyance or irritation known.

Never has Aria witnessed Michael be as silent as he is now.

According to Calum and Sade, Michael hasn't been talking to them either – Jonah is the only one that the boy bothers to talk to, considering he knew nothing about Luke and Aria and, therefore, couldn't lie and betray and keep it a secret from him for months.

Aria can't blame Michael for being upset; she gets it – she'd probably do the same if the roles were reversed; the only issue is, they aren't – and has to, unfortunately, live with occasional consequences of her actions. God, Aria hates facing the fact that she's been in the wrong.

She parks in her regular spot, grabs her flimsy tote, which is filled with nothing but a clear plastic baggie holding ballpoint pens and a laptop, and steps out. Michael rushes ahead of her, and sighing, she slowly follows behind.

The girl wants to call out to him, not to spew the strain of apologies she believes he needs to hear, but to ask if he needs a ride home after the exam. There's no point in chasing after someone who doesn't want to listen to a word she has to say. 

All she can do is give him time – even though Aria's selfish side keeps reminding her that Michael has had over a week to think about their situation, and by this point, he could at least look her in the eye.