torn // muke

5

| Luke |

It's been five days since I've seen Michael. He hasn't stopped by at all.

Everyday he doesn't come, I just laugh at myself more for thinking he could see something in me. I'm such an idiot. I like him, but he's probably found someone else. The only reason he was friends with me is because there was nobody else.

Why would he like me anyway? I'm just a whore. People like me aren't supposed to like people, and get attached to them. That's not how it works.

I sat back on the bench and hoped Michael would walk down those stairs any second. I'd act like I was mad at him, but the first word he said would make me like him all over again.

I haven't had so much fun in a long time, and every time I'm with Michael, I find myself smiling a lot. And that's something I haven't done in a while.

He made me feel safe when he held me and I felt so cared for when he let me sleep in his bed, taking the couch for himself. He said he was looking to do something fun. He never said he was looking to make a new friend.

I frowned, and pulled out my cigarettes.