t w e n t y e i g h t

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Isabella's POV

'Fuck' Michael mumbles lowly.

Never in my life had I ever seen someone so endorsed in a video game. I mean I could literally get stabbed in front of him and he'd still somehow find a way around the bloody mess that is my corpse just to try and get a kill streak.

I was almost tempted to call Call Of Duty themselves and sue them for taking away one of my best friends.

But that seemed too drastic.

'Michael' I groan trying to pull his eyes away from the screen. Not only had I surprise visited Michael when he was hibernating amongst his duvet, but I also had forgotten my phone meaning I was now left to waste away the evening watching Michael waste away his own.

'Michael' I say more sternly this time.

'Hang o- OH TRIPLE CLAT, FUCK YEAH' Michael almost screams making me jump from my spot.

From my small knowledge of the game and the terms Michael used I had now even remembered what he was on about.

Triple clat apparently means he killed three people with one bullet.

I hope his parents are proud.

I look over to him, his eyes still fixed on the screen and sigh. On the duvet in between us lies his phone, yes, something to distract me. Michael has some good game app's on his phone, I'll be fine.

I lazily reach over to his phone placed on the duvet and pull it back to where I'm sat, resting my head on the headboard behind me.

Suddenly, the xbox controller slams down on the duvet and Michael's hand is tightly wrapped around my wrist holding the phone.

What the fuck.

'Give me that back' He commands sternly, ripping the phone from my hand and shoving it in his pocket of his slouchy shorts. 'Why the fuck were you going on my phone?' He suddenly explodes, interrogating me as if I just committed a crime.

I edge away from him, scared of what he might do next. From my past experience, I was always the one to draw the short straw when someone else got angry. It was always my fault.

I mean this was my fault, why did I think it was okay to go on his phone.

But why was he being so shady?

He still glares at me, basically now burning holes into my body.

'What?' I snap.

'Why were you going on my phone?' He repeats.

'Why the flip would it matter?' I reply, confused for a second over my spontaneous choice of the word 'flip', I mean who even says that now?

Focus Isabella, Jesus.

'Why are you being so shady? Last time this happened, I found a-' I pause. '-a gun.' I finish in almost disbelief how Michael had almost been living a double life. I mean what the hell is he hiding?

'Is, you have nothing to worry about' Michael comforts, his expression loosening from the murderous glare he was giving moments earlier. 'Just don't go on my phone' He sighs. 'Please?'

'What are you hiding on your phone?' I ask, standing up from his bed.

I mean unless he had an unhealthy obsession of saving girls nudes, or maybe he talks dirty to many girls.

There's literally nothing else it could be. I know I'm protective over my phone but not to the point he's basically threatening me. Let me rephrase that, he was just being too shady.

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