Damn, You're Cute (Michael Clifford)

Chapter 81

Luke held me against his chest until it was time for him to leave. He had to deal with his break up and all the unfair words I had just said to him. He eventually left with a silent kiss to my forehead, driving away in his mother's minivan once I was brave enough to face Michael on my own.

My hands were shaking and my breaths were shallow; I didn't want to think about how Michael would look at me with furious, storming green eyes and those beautiful red lips permanently painted into a scowl. I wasn't prepared for his anger; I wasn't prepared for his pain.

I took a deep breath, looking out over the parking lot. The space where Abigail once parked was empty, and so was Luke's. Yet still, the lot was crowded with scratched, used cars that parents handed down to their children with little faith in their driving skills.

It was an odd sensation, the guilt. It was worse than I had felt after insulting Abigail in the hallway. It was churning in my stomach, reminding me of what I had done and what Michael would soon think of me.

The fact that Michael was my ride home made me want to walk the many miles instead. I didn't want to ever face him after the kiss, but the idea of never speaking to Michael was worse than the shouting that was sure to ensue. As long as he didn't leave me, I would be okay, right?

I didn't have time to develop my plan of escaping this God forsaken garage because I heard footsteps behind me. Michael had pushed open the front door and met me on the sidewalk, standing beside me with a curious glance. His green eyes searched my face gently, sweeping over my worried frown.

"I've been looking for you," he said, unaware of my inner turmoil. I faked my best smile and ducked my head to stare at the ground.

"Sorry," I mumbled, and my guilt only grew when Michael slung one arm across my shoulders. He pulled me into his side, our bodies fitting perfectly together like two puzzle pieces. It was warm pressed up against him, but I was numb to the feeling. I would be until I fessed up.

"It's okay. What are you doing out here all alone?" he asked while I chewed on my lip. His voice rang through the humid air.

I shrugged my shoulders and replied, "I'm not sure, to be honest. Just thinking, I guess."

Michael glanced at me sideways for a moment before squeezing my body lightly. I wrapped my arm around his back in response and played with the material of his shirt.

"Are you okay?" he wondered with a soft tone, the kind that urged me to tell him what was wrong. He was persuasive in that way, he always had been since the day I met him. "You seem upset."

He knew me so well. He could read me like a book or maybe I was just paranoid. He couldn't possibly know what happened out here minutes ago.

I let myself entertain the idea that maybe Michael knew. Maybe he was testing me, seeing if I would fess up to my kiss with Luke.

No, if he knew, he'd be shouting at me.

I needed to breathe because my pulse was practically racing. I had never dealt with guilt very well, and when it came to the most important person on Earth, I was fidgeting under Michael's gaze.

I plastered on a puzzled expression at his question, finally looking up at him. His eyebrow was arched in a polite way, his genuine concern shining through his slightly upturned lips. Just his features were enough to start convincing me to spill. I needed to tell him, as much as I didn't want to.

I'd calmly explain everything that happened, and hope to God that he'd understand. I just didn't want to see his face morph into a look of betrayal, a look of distrust.