fanboy ↦ michael clifford {au}

thirty: bowling

CHAPTER THIRTY:

| michael's pov |

"Are you sure you're alright?"

She scoffed, though I knew how heavy the bowling ball was for her. "I'm fine; I got some muscles, you know!" Belle reasoned, as she threw– and I mean literally threw– the ball towards the pins.

As expected, it went to the sides, and she cursed under her breath. At least, she tried to hide the disappointment quietly but failed.

"Your turn," she muttered, sourly.

I could only smile at how cute it was. I lift the ball with ease, and her mouth flew open.

"Ho-how?!" She exclaimed, pointing at me, as if mind-blown with the fact that I could actually hold it without slouching.

I shrugged. "Maybe it's because I have more muscles," I joked, and she just rolled her eyes. 

Every second that passed, it was like I became more and more comfortable. Attached, too, as much as I tried to hide it from myself and the world.

I was loving her even more, but at the same time, I was realizing things. Things, meaning my feelings for her. It was changing, but I couldn't put a finger on what that meant. I didn't know if I was beginning to love her and for real, this time.

The ball I just rolled hit all of the pins, making me a bit proud. I could actually win at something.

"Seriously?" She was in disbelief, just like earlier. Only now, it was more of a 'how-the-fuck-did-he-do-all-of-that' kind of disbelief. It was much more intense than the one earlier. 

She looked at me, with not just her mouth parted, but with her eyes really wide.

It was funny, and I think I even laughed for a second. I wasn't as restrained here, which felt great.

The bowling alley wasn't as full as I thought it would be. There were a few old men at the other end, but that was all. That way, we could just talk all we want, without having anyone else butt in.

"I'm going to win," she said to me with a very determined look. It reminded me of Ashton's persistence, but I shook my head. Why was I thinking about him? If it wasn't for him, Belle wouldn't be hurting. I wouldn't be, either.

As she was about to pick up another bowling ball, her phone began to rang. She apologized before turning away to answer it.

It puzzled me; who would call her? Well, maybe her bandmates.

My mum always told me how nosy some friends are with their friend's dates. It wasn't like I believed her or anything; I just remembered what she told me when she was still going out with my dad.

"I'll be over," was the last thing I heard her say to who she was talking to.

Facing me, she had a very guilty expression. I didn't know how mine looked like, but I knew that I felt a bit of pain and sadness.

"August?" I ask, in hope that it wouldn't be just some other person.

She shook her head.

"Gabrielle?"

Another shake.

"Amber?"

And yet another no.

I was about to ask another, but she beat me to it.

"It's Ashton."