This Year's Love // Michael Clifford

Chapter One

Hiya! Started a new fanfic just because Michael is my sunshine (my only sunshine) and I just love him v v v v v v v much.

Chapter One

Brittany Dawson

It started out as any other Tuesday morning. I wasn't expecting a shit load of customers, much less a celebrity of a band I adored back in high school (which, admittedly, I graduated from three and a half weeks ago). But, as the saying goes: The best things in life are unexpected because there were no expectations.

7 Hours Earlier

"I swear, Brittany, this is the last time," my co-worker (and, coincidentally, my best friend) Becca apologized profusely.

"Just go," I groan, practically shoving her out from behind the counter of where customers stood in front of to pay.

"I seriously owe you big time," she says.

"Hell yeah, you do," I respond, nodding my head in her direction.

She flew from the shop a minute later, leaving me alone to the sound of an Arctic Monkeys song playing on the shop's speakers. I couldn't remember which album the song was off of but I knew I liked it.

I took a seat on the stool placed behind the counter, ready to endure a day of boredom. If I was lucky I'd catch a teenager trying to steal a Sex Pistols vinyl record because they think knowing their music is hipster, but Tommy's CDs and Records didn't get nearly that much attention.

I slid my thumb across my iPhone 4 (I'm poor, okay? Working in a CD and record shop isn't the greatest paying job in the world.) and quickly type in my passcode. My screen illuminates to showcase the blink-182 emblem, then my apps in four neat folders at the top. Before I can press the Twitter icon, however, the door jingles to announce the arrival of a customer.

I lock my phone, setting it back down in front of me. I then look up, watching a mop of lilac colored hair scan the section of pop-punk albums. The guy looked oddly familiar. I couldn't see his face from so far away since I left my glasses at home and I was out of contacts. I only prayed he wasn't someone I drunkenly hooked up with.

But then again, I'm a virgin for life who's never gotten any sort of action, much less the attention of a guy as attractive as the one not too far from me (I was guessing he was attractive because purple hair is hot, okay?).

"Hi, can I help you?" I speak up, standing up from my stool and walking around the counter.

"Just looking for Green Day's American Idiot album," the guy responds, and I am taken aback by his Australian (possibly British, but doubtful) accent.

"Oh, no shit?" I perk, quite unprofessional on my part, yet not really caring. "I love Green Day."

"Oh, yeah?" He finally looks up, meeting my hazel eyes. "What's your favorite song?"

"That's the hardest decision I've ever had to make," I reply. "Uh, I like Viva La Gloria (Little Girl)."

He grins, showing off a nice set of teeth; not perfect, but nice. "I like that one, too, but I think American Idiot will always be a favorite for me."

"How basic," I tease, leaning against the wall beside him.

"Shut up," he then chuckles. "Anyway, I can't find the CD. Do you think you might have it around back?"

"I can check if you want," I say, although it was very doubtful that we did.

The only CDs we had in the back were the Justin Bieber and High School Musical soundtracks that Tommy, the owner, refused to put out. They were shipped to him free, so it wasn't as if it were a loss on his part.