𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓼𝔂 𝓑𝓲𝓽𝓬𝓱 (Ch. 13)

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Monday
November 26, 1984 8:57 A.M.

As the gym period wrapped up, Y/N watched as Michael sauntered toward her, still in his gym clothes, hair a little messy from the weight training he had to catch up on. She sat with Joyce, sipping from a water bottle, trying to ignore the way his mischievous grin already promised trouble.

"Lemme see your schedule," he said casually, holding out his hand.

Y/N sighed, knowing it was easier to just let him look than argue. She handed it over, and Michael scanned it quickly, his grin only growing wider. He tapped a finger at her 5th period. "You didn't get rid of me," he said smugly. "We've got art together."

She groaned dramatically, leaning back on her hands. "Aren't you technically homeschooled? What are you doing in my art class?"

Michael chuckled, his British accent making his teasing tone even more infuriating. "Yeah, Joyce told you, huh?" He grinned, glancing toward Joyce, who gave an innocent shrug from her seat. "Well, little secret—she didn't know I love art class. I always show up for it."

Y/N frowned, brows furrowing. "How do you even get to pick and choose which classes you go to and which ones you just do at home? That's not fair!"

Michael's grin deepened, and before she could react, he flicked her nose lightly, just like before. "If you wanna know so bad," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm, "you'll just have to spend more time with me." He winked at her, already walking off with that cocky stride.

Y/N scoffed, snatching her schedule back from him. "Oh, come on!" she grumbled as she got up and jogged after him. "I swear, I'm just forced to be around you at this point. You're everywhere! What is this—fate's stupid joke?"

Michael glanced over his shoulder, his grin never faltering. "Yup. Lucky you."

Michael flashed Y/N a playful grin as Joyce stepped in, arms crossed. "Quit messing with my cousin, Michael," Joyce warned, though her tone carried a mix of amusement and annoyance.

Michael's grin widened. "Technically, I'm just getting to know her." His laugh was light and carefree, and Y/N shot him a sharp glare, her patience thinning fast.

He waved them off casually as he walked away, leaving Y/N fuming in his wake. As they exited the gymnasium, Y/N huffed, her frustration spilling out. "He's so confusing," she muttered to Joyce. "Since that first time we met at the 7/11, it's like he can't decide whether to be charming or distant, knowing or mysterious... Or just an annoying asshole."

Joyce sighed knowingly. "That's just Michael. He likes getting a reaction out of people—especially girls. And, well... you react. A lot."

Y/N groaned. "I swear, half the time he acts like he's flirting, and the other half, he's just a pain. And I can't tell which is worse."

Joyce chuckled. "He's always been that way. Total player, too. But hey, it's just a game to him."

Before Y/N could continue her rant, she heard an angry voice cut through the noise of the hallway.

"HEY, NEWBIE!"

Y/N barely had time to process what was happening before Heather stormed up, grabbing her roughly by the arm. Y/N's head snapped toward her, stunned.

Joyce immediately stepped forward, her glare sharp and protective. "Let her go, Heather."

Heather sneered, but she didn't release her grip. "Who the hell do you think you are?" she hissed, her eyes narrowing as she looked Y/N up and down. "Think you can waltz in here and steal everyone's attention?"

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