A stream of colorful words erupts from the other end of the phone. "Shut up, just shut up! We're done!" You scream at your now ex-boyfriend before hanging up on him. You immediately block the number so he can't try and call you back. You're sobbing now, and it's highly embarrassing because you're in the middle of a Wal-Mart. As you sink to your knees, a hand brushes your shoulder lightly. You wipe your tearstained face on the hem of your Rolling Stones crop top, pretending not to notice. But whoever it is is persistent and continues to tap you patiently. Turning sharply around, you gasp as you come face-to-face with none other than Michael Clifford.
"Um, hi, I couldn't help but overhear, and you seemed sad, and I was wondering if maybe I could take you out to dinner to get your mind off things?" He rushed his words nervously.
Stupidly, all you could manage to say was "you're Michael Clifford!" He nodded, still waiting for an answer.
"Oh, uh, yeah, sure, that'd be lovely." You smile, hoping you don't come across as ungrateful. What he doesn't know is that you have had a huge crush on him since you first transferred to his school in eighth grade. Four years later and your crush has only gotten stronger.
"You're y/n, right?" He smiled disarmingly, doing wonders to relax you.
"Yeah," you answered giddily. He knows my name!
"Well, y/n, let us eat! Does Nandos work?"
"Definitely. Who doesn't love Nandos?"
"I'm glad you feel that way." He grinned. "I have a feeling we're going to get along quite well."
