Cliché (A 5SOS Fan Fiction)

one.

Michael Clifford had come into the coffee shop I worked in on a regular basis for the past month. Usually he was quiet, ordering the same quad shot mocha he ordered every other day. He would smile, maybe mumble a hello, then wait until his drink was made and leave. I'd never spoken to him myself, but I could sense there was something special about him. Usually, I didn't find myself drawn to people. Michael was a different story.

But when Michael Clifford stumbled into my coffee shop in middle of the afternoon, absolutely wasted, I couldn't stop myself from talking to him. He smiled this crooked smile at me, and he reeked of whiskey, and I loved it. I felt every cell in my body catch on fire. One look in my direction, and boom, my world collapsed around me.

"Hello love," he started, "my name is Michael. What's yours?" As if I didn't already know his name. I giggled and glanced down at my name tag.

"Well, my name tag says Veronica, but you can call me Ronnie." I told him, smiling. He smiled back, then remembered why he was standing in the coffee shop in the first place.

"Anyways, Veronica, I'm absolutely wasted and I have a gig in two hours, so I kind of figured some coffee would help solve my problems." I rolled my eyes, ringing in his usual quad shot mocha.

"Are you new to this or something?" I asked, doodling on the counter with my sharpie. My boss would be pissed, but I'd just blame it on the new girl; I usually did.

"Uh, no." Michael quipped, obviously insulted. "Why would you think that?" I rolled my eyes and giggled again.

"Because if you want to sober up, you need to eat. Preferably carbs, like bread. It soaks up the alcohol." I grinned as he glared at me.

"Fine, fine. What would you recommend?" I checked the clock, before smiling.

"I'd recommend the bistro down the street. And lucky for you, I'm off work now. Give me five minutes." He nodded slowly, obviously surprised by my newfound outgoing nature. He'd seen me here before, I know he had.

In the break room, Logan looked at me, his eyebrow cocked.

"Is he a friend of yours?" He asked.

"Who?" I responded, changing out of my work clothes and into leggings and a band t shirt. Logan rolled his eyes.

"The dude who just stared at your ass while you walked back here. Blue hair, red plaid, scrawny as fuck?"

"How the hell..." Logan laughed.

"I have a camera, dumb ass. Be careful, alright? He looks like trouble."

"Alright dad. Thanks for your concern." I teased. He sighed.

"Someone has to look out for you, Ronnie." I sighed, looking up at him. I'd worked with him for the past three years and he knew everything about me. He was the closest thing I had to family.

"I know. You're the best, Logan. I'll be careful."

I walked out of the back room and I could feel Michael's eyes on me. His gaze caused goosebumps to raise on my skin, and I prayed he wouldn't notice. He grinned at me, then gestured for me to lead the way, his cup of coffee attached to his mouth.

"You just want to stare at my ass." I accused. His grin widened.

Veronica, how do you know me so well already?" Michael teased. I shrugged.

"I guess I know your type."

We stepped into the quaint little restaurant and I silently thanked God that the staff was so laid back because Michael really stunk of whiskey and cigarettes much more than I had realized before. I considered saying something, but I figured he probably didn't give a shit. I lead him to the booth in the corner, sliding in across from him. He leaned back into the booth, draping his arms across the back. He stared at me, a smile smirk plastered on his face.