Girlfriend

20. Trinkets

"So, how are you?" Michael asked, as we made our way to his bedroom. "How was dance?"

"Dance was interesting. I actually left," I said, taking a seat on his bed.

"Why?"

"David."

"What is his deal? Does he bother you?" Michael inquired, crossing his arms.

"A little bit, yeah, but I can handle myself," I replied.

"What does he do to you because he seems very annoying."

"He likes me so he thinks he's entitled to everything but I like you so he's upset I don't feel the same about him," I explained, thinking about the argument we got in earlier.

"So he's competition, huh?" Michael sat down next to me on the bed.

"Competition? Not even close."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Oh because I always thought you might like him a little," Michael admitted, folding his hands in his lap.

"Oh my god, no. Never in a million years would I ever think of David like that. He's just my friend. Or was my friend," I mumbled.

"Oh."

He nodded a little, satisfied with my comment. I scooted a little closer to him and he immediately averted his eyes up at me. Michael smiled nervously and then looked away.

"You have a lot of cool little stuff in here," I said, admiring all the trinkets on his shelves. "Is this what you wanted to show me?"

"No," he giggled. "I really don't have to show you anything." He scanned the little toys around his room. "LaToya calls it junk."

"Well it's cute." I picked up a picture of little Michael and his brothers. "Aw, look at you."

"Yeah, cute Michael," he sighed, sitting down at his vanity. "No one likes grown up Michael."

"What do you mean?"

"After I hit thirteen, no one cared about me. My voice changed, my face changed and no one wants that," he explained, rolling his eyes.

"But everyone loves you. You're Michael Jackson." I put the picture frame back on the shelf.

"Not everyone thinks that."

"Who doesn't?" I challenged, sitting down next to him.

"My father, for one," he said sneaking a glance at me. "He hates me."

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is. He thinks I'm ugly. He tells me all the time."

"I think you're really cute," I said, lacing his chocolate fingers with mine.

"I think you're cute too," Michael replied with a shy smile.

"You've just got to learn not to care. I like you just the way you are and if your father can't accept you then he has issues."

I rubbed the back of Michael's hand with my thumb to ease his pain. He glanced at me again and our eyes met for a split second before we both looked away.

"You deserve better, Michael. You've done a lot for people, including me. Don't let your father put you down."

"It's just hard," he groaned.

"I know." I leaned my head on his shoulder.

"Why do you even like me so much? Besides the fact that I'm Michael Jackson."

"I don't like you because you're Michael Jackson. I like you because you care about me and my issues. No one has ever been this nice to me. Ever."

I stroked Michael's cheek and brought him closer to me. He smiled slightly and closed his eyes.

"I didn't know you felt that way," he whispered, squeezing my hand.

"Well, now you know."

I don't know what made me press my lips against his, but I did and Michael was stunned. He released my hand and wrapped his arms around my waist as I cupped his cheeks. Everything we've been holding back was released here. I felt things I've never felt before at that moment. I felt loved.

I pulled away first with my eyes glued to Michael's. He must've blushed at the thought of what just happened between us.

"Is it wrong to say that I love you?" I asked.

Michael shook his head. "No."

He pulled me in to his chest and kissed my forehead. His arms are so warm and welcoming. I really can't stress that enough.

"Are you smiling, Cathy Jean?" he inquired with playfulness in his tone.

"No."

"Well you should be. I love you."

"I love you too."

A/N: I sincerely apologize for not updating in a million years. I hope you all don't murder me lol. More soon and that's not a lie❤️