ocean boulevard | 5sos | michael clifford

ii.

chapter two.

As it turns out, Michael Clifford, from Sydney, Australia, is indeed a true blue blood gamer. We've been sitting in the gaming room for over two hours now, but it feels like it's just been fifteen minutes.

I'm huddled on one end of the couch, my body buried under a blanket, snacking on the gummy worms and jellybeans I bought on the way down, while Michael's sitting on the other end, his eyes glued onto the screen, his thumbs twiddling the buttons on his controller. He's playing a Japanese video game, dubbed in English, which involves zombies and a shitload of thugs.

"The trick is to sneak up on the zombies in your way and stab them. That way you won't attract any unnecessary attraction," he tells me, his focus still on the screen. "Are you sure you don't want a turn?"

"Nah, I'll get killed within the first minute. I like watching people play. Grab the dagger." I shove a couple of jellybeans into my mouth. "Want another one?"

For the first time, Michael lets his gaze slide towards me. He flips the game to a pause. "Yeah, thanks." I pass him the packet, watch as he reaches to take it from me, and, for the first time, notice something.

"Hey, nice bracelets." I jab at one of them as he takes a handful of jellybeans and leans back. "You like All Time Low. Not bad."

"They're great."

"For sure," I inspect the bracelets some more. "Let's see. Sleeping with Sirens, Never Shout Never... What's this?" I reach forward to turn a black wristband over to read the words on it, but something weird flits across Michael's face, and he jerks his arm away abruptly, before I can touch him.

"Every Avenue," he says coolly, but I'd be an idiot to not notice the edge in his voice.

So for a moment I hesitate, contemplate prodding further, and then I relent. "Alright then," I shrug, just as my phone chimes. I pull it out and accept the FaceTime request.

"There you are!" Makayla hisses as her face appears on my screen. Her image buffers a little. "God, the WiFi here is shit."

"We're in the middle of the ocean," I remind her. "Now what do you want?"

"Can't a girl check up on her best friend?" she says matter-of-factly. A blast emits from the game console and I turn to see an explosion on the screen. Makayla's reaction is instant. "What was that? Where are you?"

"I'm in a gaming room with someone I just met," I say.

"Great," she moans, "I feel bad now."

"What? Why?"

"Okay, honestly, I called because I was hoping that you wouldn't be, like, busy or anything, because, as of now, I'm kinda in our room, alone, with nothing but a bag of half-chips-half-air, and a heart full of stories to tell about what just happened during dinner with Wesley, and, speaking of dinner, it's pretty late, wouldn't you say–"

"I'll be there in five," I roll my eyes, giving in just like she probably expected me to.

"WHAT OH MY GOD THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU," she squeals, and I hold the phone away a little further, just in case, because, you know, I don't want to go deaf. "I feel bad now."

"You should."

"Ugh," she groans. "I'm sorry. You don't have to come back yet. I don't want to deprive you of your fun. It's your vacation as well. I'm sorry. I'll tell you about it in the morning."

"Nah, it's fine," I insist. "It is pretty late, and I do wanna know what happened. So go ahead and feel bad, because you should, but don't feel guilty because you think I'm mad."