Ordinary Girl [MIKA Fanfiction]

7

It had obviously been raining since I'd been in Maths; the pavement was like a small stream and it smelt of dewy plants. I was nervous about Mica thinking I'd been crying but the heavy downpour was like a disguise. I could feel my mascara dripping down my face and I knew I must have looked like the Joker, but for some reason I didn't care. All I wanted was to find him.

And I did. A soft silhouette could be made out through the misty rain, undoubtedly a tall boy with an afro of curls. I fastened my pace in order to get to him sooner, and by the time I was less than 10 metres away, he turned and beamed at me.

Without saying a word, I forced myself into his arms and he wrapped them tightly around me. My heart was racing and I knew I was being overly confident, I thought I should pull away but I realised that his grip on me was much stronger than mine was on him. I smiled and instantly forgot all about Madison, all about the lies I'd told and all about the freezing weather surrounding us. It was like we were in our own little world.

Mica stroked my drenched – now frizzy – hair and spoke in a hushed tone: "You don't have to tell me what happened, just be okay." I nodded, he pulled me closer before letting me go. "Do you want me to walk you home?"

"No, of course not, you need to get home yourself."

"Honestly, I don't mind."

"It's freezing, it wouldn't be fair." I looked up at him, noticing that I'd been avoiding his eye contact this whole time. I could imagine how awful I looked and it would have embarrassed me but Mica didn't seem to care at all. I know there's more to people than appearances, so for someone else to think that too meant everything to me.

His face suddenly dropped, "Your clothes."

"At least they're not neon!" I said defensively, he crippled over in laughter.

"I meant they're soaked. But hey, don't dis neon." I apologised but he just laughed again, "I'm not offended, Lex. I know my style is a bit extreme, but I like it. Anyway, here, you can borrow my dull-coloured jumper." He rummaged through his bag before pulling out a huge, fluffy brown jumper. I stared at him, unsure of what to do. "Please?"

I gently retrieved it from his grasp and practically dove into it. I couldn't stop thinking of all those romantic stories where a girl is given the boy's hoodie. Wasn't it meant to be a sign that they liked you? Did this mean Mica liked me? My head felt like it was going to explode, a million thoughts were rushing through my brain. I'd only known him for a day, what did this mean? Was it just a friendly gesture? Did he think I liked him too?

It was so warm, ridiculously baggy and smelt exactly like him. Maybe that was a creepy observation but it was true. It smelt of cinnamon and campfires and basically everything to do with autumn and winter. I felt like a walking burnt marshmallow. I caught his gaze and smiled, he smiled back. "Thank you."

"I'll see you later, Lex." I grinned and turned to walk away. It felt like I left a piece of myself with him every time I went.

***

Seconds before reaching the door to my house, I yanked Mica's jumper off and shoved it into my bag; I couldn't let anyone see it because the amount of questions I'd receive would be unreal.

I knocked on the door (as usual, I had forgotten my key) and was greeted by a very happy-looking mother. "Alex, you're home! How was your day? Sorry I didn't get a chance to see you this morning."

I walked into the heated hallway and sighed in relief, "It was good, actually." I looked at the floor and shuffled my feet, smiling at the ground. It was nice to be able to tell her I'd had a positive day without having to lie about it.

She rushed to the kitchen, shouting "That's wonderful! Go and get changed into some comfy clothes, we're going to watch a movie since we have the house to ourselves." My mum is the sweetest woman you would ever meet, she's not one to talk about personal or upsetting things but with everything else I couldn't imagine someone more perfect.

After I had changed into my soft lilac pyjamas and wiped the remains of my makeup off, I galloped joyfully down the stairs and into the lounge. Feeling my phone buzzing in the pocket of my trousers, I looked at the new message off Mica: 'Did you get home safely?' How was he so mature for his age? Most 16-18 year old boys I know only care about one thing – something they'll never get if they don't learn how to respect others.

'Yes, thanks. Did you?' I typed. I'm so bad at making conversation that I wished he would take longer to reply, but at the same time I loved how eager he was to talk to me.

'Good, and yes. What time are you in college tomorrow?' My stomach turned. Surely this meant he wanted to meet up with me. I was with him all day today, why was that such a scary thought? I chose to attempt to ignore it.

I told him that I started at 11am and ended at 2pm – it was one of my shorter days. One without Maths. Before I could read his reply, my mum skipped into the room with a large bowl of popcorn. "So, before we watch anything, tell me about your day."

I giggled as a reaction from feeling under pressure. "What would you like to know?"

"Everything!" she exclaimed, almost spilling the popcorn all over the wooden floor. "Did you make any friends? Were all your lessons okay? What about the teachers?"

I cut her off quickly before she suffocated us both with her questions: "Form was boring-"

"Of course."

"Y-yeah. Art was really intere-"

"Interesting, yes! I was hoping you'd think that because when I was looking on their website it said-"

"Mum!" Startled, she stopped talking and mimicked zipping her lips. She has a tendency to comment on everything people say – even if they haven't finished their sentence. "Art was really interesting, the teacher was lovely. Oh, I didn't pay much attention to my Form tutor. Anyway, Music was good, I think," I had no idea what Music was like, "but the teacher seemed quite strict. And then Maths... That was fine." I lied. I knew I should be able to tell her everything because she's my mother but the truth is I just can't. I confided in Zoey for the darker things.

My mum's eyes begged me to go on, so I finished with: "And I made a friend. His name is Mica."

A confused expression spread across her face, "Mica? What a strange name."

I nodded, taking a handful of popcorn. I purposely averted her attention to the movie before she asked me more about him, because I knew I'd blush, look away and make it instantly obvious that he might mean more to me than just a friend.

I reminded myself to look at my phone as the movie was starting. "What are we watching?" I asked as I opened Mica's message.

"I thought we'd watch Mean Girls. It's been a while."

"Mum it's been just over a week." I laughed. She smiled and shrugged, shovelling popcorn into her mouth.

'I'm in at 11, too. Music, right?' I told him he was right but suddenly remembered that we had no idea what our project was supposed to be about. Once again, as if he had read my mind, he sent: 'Everything will be fine. Don't panic. I'll see you there. :-)'

I had to admit that his messages did relax me, but it annoys me that I find my anxiety so difficult to control yet he effortlessly makes it all go away. How does that even work? I would have spent longer stressing over it if Zoey hadn't of burst through the front door.

My mum and I jumped in pure shock, our popcorn bouncing uncontrollably and getting lost in the gaps in our sofa. "Oops, sorry. What are we watching?" She asked, springing over to join us. We stared at her, unimpressed. Don't get me wrong, I love that she's a little ball of energy but when it's time to unwind and be calm, she'd not the best company. "Okay, okay. I'll be quiet, I promise."

"Mean Girls." I told her.

"But Mum, we watched that yesterday!" Zoey complained.

"Wait, yesterday?" We both looked at her and – bless – she flushed as pink as the DVD cover.

"Leave me alone, shut up and watch." She huffed. Zo and I burst into a fit of hushed giggles although quickly quietened down as the film began. I felt engulfed in so much love and acceptance lately that my life was feeling unbelievably perfect. It was almost too good to be true.