Love, Curly |M.J.|

Chapter 8

Three weeks later

    Michael told me that this week is the most important one ever. Yet, he still won't tell me why. He also has came over everyday, like usual, and we've done things.

    We went to another football game last Friday. Just us this time though. Michael said he doesn't want people bothering us, like Jessica.

I jerk forward as the car suddenly stops. I glare at Michael, "How did you even convince your mom to let you drive?"

He chuckles, "We are here, alive. Aren't we?" I look up at the grocery store. I groan.

"Why couldn't my mother just go? I don't even know what parsley is!" I look at the list of ingredients.

Michael is already by my door, opening it for me. "That's why I'm with you, Applehead."

He pulls me out with too much force, sending me a couple feet forward. I hear him close the door behind me.

"Race ya!" Michael says before running ahead. "Hey! No fair," I run after him.

Somehow, I managed to beat him to the store doors. He gets there right after.

"Haha. I win!" I stick my tongue out at him.

I open the door for him, but he grabs it and closes it. What the heck?

"I'm supposed to open the doors for you, not the other way around." Michael says opening the door again. Of course, he's quite the gentleman. He learned that from Katherine for sure.

We enter the store, him following behind me.

"First, we need to go to the fruit and vegetable place. Where ever that is." I announce, looking down at the list.

Michael grabs a cart, taking me to the vegetables. I grab green peppers, onions, broccoli, and other items.

We talk about random things, stopping at times to say the next thing on the list.

"Butter and milk are the last things." Michael walks towards the back of the store. I follow him, pushing the cart.

He abruptly stops, causing me to hit him with shopping cart. He breathes in sharply, grabbing his ankle while holding the front of the cart.

"Sorry!"

"Those things are deadly!" He says in pain.

"Why did you stop anyways?" I furrow my eyebrows. He starts walking- limping again.

"Oh! Come on! It's not that bad!" I say. He gives me a look like my mother saying "you're done".

He ignores my question and says something like, "...hurts worse than a scooter hitting your ankle."

I burst out laughing.

"How about I karate chop you in the ankle with one. Then we'll see who's laughing." Michael says sarcastically, squinting his eyes.

I stop laughing. Getting hit in the ankle does hurt. A lot.

He grabs milk while I get the butter.

"I think we are done now." I tell him, checking the list once again.

He nods, this time following me up to the front. I give him a questioning look.

Michael shrugs, "You're dangerous, J."

I roll my eye at him and playfully nudge him.

We walk through isles making our way to the front.