Veto Syndrome// m.c

[6]

=

It was happening. In less than twenty-hours, she would be having her first ever hangout with Michael. She had no idea what he had planned, but she was willing to go with anything.

Hiking? Maybe, she'd try her best to not trip and break her neck. Swimming? She doesn't know how to swim, but sure, she is willing to drown trying. A movie? She hopes it's a good movie, but she'll most likely just end up spending most of the movie sparing glances in Michael's direction, anyways. Sitting in the middle of the desert at night and having to cuddle each other for body warmth? They'd be alone and could only cuddle? That date didn't sound that bad, actually.

She was currently dealing with a major dilemma; what the fuck should she wear? She had picked through her wardrobe multiple times already, indecisive. She should be casual, dress like she always does because she had no need to try to impress the raven haired idiot that won her heart over. Oh, who was she kidding. Of course she wanted to impress him, she wanted to look good, make him change the "hangout" into a "date". Could she have a first kiss tomorrow? Probably not...she didn't know. But a development in their relationship- romance wise- would be nice.

Steph laid sprawled out on the floor, staring up at the ceiling fan. She could go to her mum, but it was after midnight and her parents were most likely already asleep. Her only other friend was Mikey, and he was the reason why she was stressing in the first place.

"Fuck it," she muttered to herself, getting up from the carpeted floor and walking back to her wardrobe. She shut her eyes, blindly throwing her hand into the closet and grabbing at the first article of clothing she felt. She retracted her arm, opening her eyes to a plain black v-neck. She shrugged, digging through her bottoms drawer and picking out a pair of light wash denim jeans. She picked up her black combat boots from her pile of shoes, nodding to herself. Her outfit was simple, seemed effortless, but was still cute.

A yawn left her mouth as she placed the clothes down on her computer chair. She slowly made her way to her bed, pulling back the covers to slip in. It was then that she noticed a text message, a grin finding its way onto her lips as she saw it was a goodnight text from Michael.

"From Clifturd: goooooooooooooooooooooodnight :) hope u dream of me. I'm super excited abt tmrw!! don't freak out when u see me :)"

"To Clifturd: Why would I freak out? You're just Michael lol jOkinG I'll try to hold myself back. Hope you dream of me, too ;) see you tomorrow <3"

She placed the phone down beside her after she sent her response, the smile staying on her face as she began dozing off, all her stress and nerves about tomorrow put at ease with Michael's text. Kind of. Not really, she wasn't planning on getting any rest.

-

The doorbell rang, Steph's breath stopping in her throat. Satan was at her door.

She made her way down the stairs, stopping in the foyer to tuck the curls that strayed from her ponytail behind her ears. He was standing on the other side of the door, less than five feet away from her.

The doorbell rang again, followed by knocking this time. His impatient ass, Steph thought to herself as she quickly grabbed her purse that was sitting on the small coffee table against the wall and took the final two steps to the door. Her pale hand shook as she turned the knob and opened the door.

There he stood, the boy she had grown to be familiar with, yet one thing contradicted the 'familiar' aspect. His hair was a platinum blonde color, seemingly shimmering in the mid-afternoon sun. She couldn't hide the look of awe on her face as she took in his appearance: a Metallica T-shirt, worn-out black skinny jeans, his old black converse and his fringe falling in front of the dark shades he was sporting. He looked beautiful and she was glad she had decided on going casual.