P.S. I Love You (Mashton)

Entry 35

Hey, Kent.

So it's been a few days since the incident and we're all kind of acting like nothing ever happened. Well, except Bryana breaking up with Ashton. That's being made a big deal of.

And I have no right to be annoyed that they're making a deal out of it, because it is a big deal, so I'm trying my hardest to be a supportive friend.

Everyone sees through my charade. Of course they do, they all know I love the guy so why would I be so cool about him moping over a breakup? I'm freaking out on the inside, I'm telling you.

If he's upset over a breakup then he most likely still likes her. Meaning he doesn't like me. Duh.

And my stupid little brain finally realised that, and I think I'm starting to get over him.

That's right. I, Michael Gordan Clifford, am slowly falling out of love with Ashton Fletcher Irwin.

It feels so good to write those words.

But no, yeah. Ashton has been laying on the sofa lifelessly with a tub of ice cream, a blanket and Friends on the TV for the past few days.

The day after the breakup, we went clubbing to try and get him over it. It was a bad idea on my part because seeing Ashton dancing with some girl made me want to throw up. So I distracted myself with my own little treat ;))

Anyway, the day after that, Ashton was sad and hungover. Which was the beginning of the moping-on-the-sofa thing. And here were are two days later.

Besides Ashton's drama, I had to meet Laila again. It sucked.

All we did was play stupid mini golf. I don't even like golf.

Then we grabbed lunch at some country club place and went for a walk in the park. While we were in the park, Steve obviously hired some paps to 'interview' us, which pissed me off.

vvvvvvv

I was miserably holding Laila's hand as we silently walked through the park. The silence was somewhat comfortable (it wasn't, it was awkward as hell) until we heard some heavy footsteps.

A few people with cameras started to surround us. Laila, who was obviously media trained, put on a fake smile, and elbowed me in the ribs when she noticed I wasn't doing the same.

I smiled smally, and didn't put any effort into it. Why should I? I don't care about any of this.

"Michael, Michael, who is this?" one of them asked.

I didn't respond, causing Laila to subtly roll her eyes before answering herself.

"I'm his friend," she smiled.

"No, dude, that's Laila Rain," another stated.

"Who?"

"The model, dude,"

"Oh, shit man. Uh, Laila, what's your relationship with Michael?"

"Like I said, good friends," she repeated, moving closer to me and resting her head on the side of my shoulder.

"That's it? Good friends? Nothing else to it?"

"Nope," she smiled, shaking her head.

"Anything you want to say, Michael?"

"Steve Barnett sucks cock," I muttered, only loud enough for me and Laila to hear.

She elbowed my ribs again, giving me a look. I rolled my eyes and looked back at the paparazzi.

"We should go," I stated, dragging Laila by her hand away from the annoying men.

"Michael!" She exclaimed as a dragged her along, "what the fuck was that?"

"What?" I asked innocently.

"'Steve Barnett sucks cock'? Michael, do you want the world to know this isn't real?"

"I don't give a shit what the world thinks, Lisa,"

"Laila!"

"Whatever,"

"If you cock this up and I don't get paid, I'm gonna fucking scream,"

vvvvvvv 

That was a highly unpleasant experience. Fuck my life.

So I got back and walked past all the boys on my way to the kitchen, avoiding their "how did it go?"s and "is everything alright?"s, before I snatched a snack and hid in my room for the remainder of the day.

The boys gave me space. Luckily, they knew that when I have an off-day, I need my space. Thank fuck for that.

Anyway, goodnight, Kent.

P.S I love you Ashton.