Girl Online ⎯ m.c [DISCONTINUED]

⸢26⸥

*NOT EDITED BUT IDK IF YOU CARE ANYMORE*

"Psst."

I knew who was trying to wake me up, and I tried ignoring him.

"Psst."

I sighed, curling up further into my comforter in hopes that he'll leave me alone.

"Don't make me tickle you."

Maybe he would think that I was still asleep, and he wouldn't try to tickle me.

Unfortunately, I wasn't that lucky, since his hands slipped from my stomach and to my sides, and started digging in. He straddled me, trapped me on the bed.

A giggle slipped past my lips as I opened my eyes. His fingers continued their attack as I squirmed underneath him. I begged him to stop in between my laughter, but he didn't listen to me.

"Michael, please," I shouted, tears falling from my eyes, my cheeks hurting from smiling and my stomach hurting from laughing.

After a couple more minutes of torture, he finally got off of me with a satisfied smile on his face. I pouted at him before I started to hiccup, which me laughed at me for.

"This is your fault," I pouted, turning away from him. Every hiccup, my body would jolt, which caused the bed to shake. Michael found it ridiculously funny, and I knew that I would be able to completely enjoy the day, since the hiccups would be with me forever.

"Sorry," he laughed, scootching closer to me and wrapping his arms around my middle. He kissed my bare shoulder. It was cute, until I hiccuped again, and he started laughing.

"I hate you," I said, standing up.

"No you don't."

"I know, stop reminding me," I laughed, then hiccuped, walking to my closet to pick out something to wear.

"Can I pick out something for you to wear?" Michael cutely asked, walking up behind me and wrapping his arms around me again, resting his chin on top on my head. I leaned into his chest, basking in the warmth of his body.

"If I approve, I guess," I told him, and immediately started searching through my hangers.

"You have a lot of black," he inquired.

"That's how I like it," I told him and he smiled at me.

I watched him fondly as he searched through my hangers, trying his hardest to pick out a good outfit for me. Eventually, he pulled out a tye dyed red white and blue t-shirt and black skinny jeans, throwing them at my face.

"You're so nice. How did I get so lucky," I said dully, walking across the hall to change in the bathroom.

Michael shrugged his shoulders cutely as I closed the door. As I slipped the shirt over my head, I hiccuped again, and I heard Michael laugh from the other side of the door.

"Shut up!" I groaned, jumping into my jeans.

I looked into the mirror and momentarily forgot that I had dyed my hair, and was taken aback. Then I remembered and I mentally smacked myself.

"How much would you hate me if we matched today?" Michael asked, his voice close to the door.

"What do you mean?" I asked, opening the bathroom door.

He was wearing an American flag shirt on, black jeans as always, and his black converse. I vaguely recognized the shirt, but it felt like forever since I've seen it.

"You haven't worn that shirt in forever," I cooed, smiling fondly.

He shrugged, "I felt like it was time to bring it back."