Annabel's POV:
My eyes felt heavy and encrusted with sleep when I woke up in the early morning light, my nearly-naked body shivering in the cold. I blinked a few times, watching the pale sun that I could almost swear was a moon in my hazy state break slivers of gold over the horizon.
I sat up, my head murky but notably lacking the incessant pounding that had persisted throughout the day before, and stretched my arms over my head. It would still be a few hours before the other members of the household would awaken, so I slipped out of bed and pulled on a pair of black slacks, a white button up shirt and a big blue comfy sweater before tugging on my pair of trusty converses.
I grabbed my backpack from where it had been abandoned by the door during my rushed entrance to my room, and dumped its contents onto the floor. Out fell a disheveled Yoda shirt to which I sighed; I really had to get that back to him. I then began to remove all the furniture blocking my exit as quietly as possible, before shoving the shirt back in and opening the door. It was then where I faltered, and then turned around to my bedside table, where a pack of crumpled cigarettes and a shiny metal lighter sat, the latter gleaming in the rising sun. I snatched both of them up before leaving my bedroom, tip toeing down the stairs and leaving the house.
The neighbourhood was still very quiet; I had glanced at the clock in the kitchen which informed me it was around 5:30. It felt good to walk, to feel the crisp air flood my lungs and clear my head. I started thinking of New York, and how the trees must be beginning to look in Central Park now that it was fall. Mona's house was silent as I passed it, and I looked up at her window for a moment or two. I wondered if the hollering coming from next door woke her last night.
I didn't know exactly where I was going; school wouldn't start for another hour and a half or so, and I had only about 5 bucks to spend if I were to go into town. The day felt lighter than yesterday, more easy to live in, more compromising and hopeful. I ended up going to the pebbly beach and sat looking at the ocean crashing on the shore until I had to go.
The hallways were buzzing by the time I entered, and I managed to ignore most of the curious stares as I trudged to my locker. I vaguely noticed someone open the locker next to mine, but when the said person began whistling God Save The Queen ( the Johnny Rotten version, of course), I realised who it was.
"Mike!"
He whipped his face to me, shaggy brown hair falling in front of his face as his blue eyes gleamed, a grin etched on his almost-impossible-not-to-like face.
"Annabel! How you going?"
"Good...hey here's your shirt. I meant to give it to you yesterday. Thanks again."
"No problem." He gave me a wink as I handed it over, then placed it into his locker. He looked at me again, smile still alit.
"What you got first?" he asked, glancing down at my timetable.
"Music. You?"
"Same." he grinned, and the shrill bell startled us both into walking. I almost had to jog to keep up with him; his legs were so goddamn long.
"Billie seems to have taken a shine to you." he commented completely out of the blue, his gaze straight ahead. His mouth was smiling, his eyes were not.
"Yeah, I suppose. I met him at Chuck's party. He was on the roof smoking. He rode me home on his bike."
"Sounds about right." I heard Mike mutter under his breath, although I decided not to ask.
"How long have you guys been friends?"
"Since we were 10. We bonded over music, actually, and he taught me the basics of bass. I live with him now."
The way he abruptly ended the sentence made me refrain from questioning this.
"You two must be really close."
I saw a real smile begin to crawl into his lips, his stare slightly softer.
"Yeah, we are."
Music, turns out, was a complete free-for-all in terms of actual class structure. The teacher, an older guy who's name I can't remember, was obviously over his job and sat at his desk reading trashy and porn magazines while the kids went to town with the instruments. Mike grabbed a bass, an old looking thing with a seriously flat E string, but it came to life under his nimble fingers. He hammered off a few funky riffs, obviously enjoying my impressed face.
"What can you play?"
I looked around at all of the instruments. I could manage some piano, but the only one was being butchered by some girl playing some Christian hymn.
"There wouldn't happen to be a violin?"
"Not in the budget. You don't strike me as one for the classical side of things."
"You'd be right. My step-dad makes me play it."
He gave me a sympathetic look, one that was almost akin to the one Billie would give me, but not quite.
"I have a step-dad, we used to not get along but then my mom moved away and now we're tight. Can you play anything else?" he tapped on. I gave another look over, and my eyes feel on a busted-up-looking green electric guitar.
"Guitar it is."
I picked up the electric, giving it a quick tune, before trying out some licks and melodies to warm up. Mike's mouth dropped open.
"What?"
"Did you seriously just play the beginning of Foxey Lady?"
I smirked.
"Know it?"
He scoffed, equaling my challenging look.
And that's how that lesson was spent, we'd churn out song after song, and at the end he'd yell out "The Card Cheat" or I'd yell out "I Wanna Be Your Dog" and we'd just go for it. It was an absolute ball, we were grinning like Cheshire Cats by the time we had to stop.
"I am taking you to the next band practice, no arguments." Mike said as he unplugged the bass, eyes sparkling.
I shrugged, giving him a crooked smile.
"I'll think about it."
"Nope. You're coming." I raised my eyebrows jokingly, hands on my hips, and he copied, pouting like a 5 year old. I couldn't help but laugh at that as I put the guitar away. There was silence for a moment, until:
"Hey, are you busy this weekend?"
"I don't know. Why?"
"Maybe we could go for a coffee or something, and I can give you a proper tour of our charming Rodeo." He put on a fantastic British accent for sarcasm, but I could see the subtlety of nerves in his eyes as he asked.
"Sounds good to me." And I watched his eyebrows shoot up for real as I left the room.
Math couldn't even drum me into depression, I was in too good a mood, despite a nagging little part of my mind.
"What?" I finally asked my subconscious.
"This doesn't seem right."
"He's a friend, there's no more behind it than that."
"But what about..."
"I DO NOT have feelings for Billie like that, nor does he for me. We barely know each other for fuck's sake!"
"Well you said you were going to avoid these kind of relationships, because what happens if it grows into something more and the secrets, all those secrets..."
But I refused that chilling fear to settle on my heart that morning, so I pushed it all into some vault deep inside my mind and threw away the key.
Just for those few, blissful moments.
A/N this was a really fun chapter to write. Mike's the best.
