This Year's Love // Michael Clifford

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Brittany Dawson

"I'm sorry I have to leave you alone for most of the day." Michael pouts.

"It's alright. Seriously," I assure him. "I'm just gonna walk around the city, maybe shop a little."

"Okay. I'll be back around six at the latest," he says, wrapping his arms around my not-so-petite frame (I'm not a stick, okay? Just a little above average.).

"Have a good day," I say, not thinking before kissing his scruffy cheek (which was actually his jaw since he's, like, six inches taller than me).

"I will," he whispers softly, peering down into my hazel eyes.

I reluctantly let go of him, watching as Luke had to drag him out of our hotel room to get to where they're going. Once the door shuts, I'm left alone in the confines of my own thoughts.

Once I finished showering and getting ready for the day, I too stepped out of the hotel room door. I make my way to the elevator and, finally after twenty-three floors passed, I made it to the lobby.

New York is a busy place on a week day. People are bustling to and fro to get wherever they need to be. They don't stop to apologize if they bump into your shoulder or step on your new Toms; they just keep walking. I don't think I could survive living in such a busy place.

I began to walk down the street, going with the flow of people. About five minutes later I came across a rather large café, seeing people just pouring in and out of it. Upon deciding I must have a pumpkin spice latte (even though it's summer), I enter the shop.

As I'm standing in line, though, someone feels the need to ram into me. I go flailing into the person in front of me and, quite luckily, they break my almost fall.

"Hey, watch what you're-"

The stranger meets my eyes and I feel my stomach plummet at the sight of the gorgeous boy in front of me that I'd fallen into. Long forgotten is the guy who pushed me. Instead, the one in front of me wears shades over his eyes, but that doesn't make me notice him any less. He has blonde curls atop his head and a Rolling Stones shirt adorning his torso.

"Evan Peters," I whisper, feeling my inner fangirl near to abruption.

"Hi." He sheepishly smiles.

I gather myself, smoothing my skirt out. "H-hi," I manage. "I mean... hello. Hi."

He chuckles that smooth chuckle, my heart swelling at the sound. "Hey."

"Next," someone annoyingly says.

Evan turns around, taking his spot in front of the counter to order. He turns back to me, raising an eyebrow. I reluctantly step beside him.

"What can I get for you?" the bored teen with freckles and braces asks.

"I'll have a vanilla latte," Evan says, then turns to me.

"What?" I question.

"Order. I'll pay for you," he offers.

I shake my head. "I can't ask you to do that."

"You didn't ask. I'm offering," Evan responds.

I sigh, giving in and telling the barista my order. Evan pays him with a fifty dollar bill and I wondered if he was showing off or if that was all he had on him. I doubt the first since he seems like a genuine, regular guy (minus all the fame).

When our drinks arrive, he grabs both and gestures for me to follow him. We take a seat on opposite sides and my nervous hands find refuge on my warm drink.

"What's your name?" Evan asks, testing his latte.

"Brittany," I answer easily. "Yours?"

I mentally face palm. Of course I know his name. Who am I?

"Evan," he chuckles.

"Right. I knew that." I nod. "You're from American Horror Story and you're dating Emma Roberts.

"Not anymore," he says.

"What?"

"I'm not with Emma anymore."

"Oh." I feel my mood slightly perk.

"How old are you?"

"I'll be nineteen next month," I state. "You?" And that was an honest question because I really had no idea how old he is.

"Twenty-seven," Evan answers.

I feel my stomach falter. He's almost nine years older than me. What a bummer. Oh, well. He's still hot.

"Oh," I awkwardly say.

"What brings you to New York? Your accent doesn't exactly fit the ones here," Evan says.

"Oh, I'm from Missouri," I say. "I'm here with my boyfr-"

I stop myself. Michael is not my boyfriend. I am single. Evan is also newly single.

"I'm here with my best friend and his band," I correct myself.

"What band?"

"Um, 5 Seconds of Summer," I say.

"Oh, yeah? Great dudes!" Evan grins widely (and I could never get tired of his smile).

"Yeah," I chuckle softly, looking down and taking a sip of my latte.

"So you're single?"

My head shoots up to meet Evan's now uncovered eyes. A smile begins to form on my face.

"Yeah," I answer.

An obnoxious vibration sounds from atop the table and both Evan and I's eyes dart to the source. His sleek iPhone 5S is vibrating with no control, seeking attention from its owner.

"Sorry," he says, picking up the phone. "Hello?"

I allow my phone to capture my gaze momentarily, seeing a new text from Michael. An even wider grin than I shared with Evan filled up my face.

From: Michael

what r u doin?

To: Michael

Just getting a latte.

From: Michael

oh ok. just checkin on u. talk later

I leave it at that, feeling no need to reply. I avert my attention back to Evan who was just getting off the phone.

"Sorry about that," he apologizes. "I have an interview uptown in, like, thirty minutes and if I leave now I might beat traffic."

He stands and I soon follow.

"Oh, okay," I say.

"How long are you in New York for?" he questions.

"Three days," I answer.

"Can I get your number? Maybe we can do something before you leave."

My cheeks flame up. "Yeah, sure," I manage to cooly respond.

We exchange phones, mine not as nice as his. I put my number under Brittany, then hand it back.

"Thanks." Evan grins that breathtaking grin.

"Sure." I smile back.

"Okay, I'll text or call you. Bye, Brittany." He waves, making his way to the exit.

I giggle, waving back. Within seconds, he's out the door of the small café.

Holy shit. Did I just exchange numbers with Evan Peters?

//////

Okay, not the same Evan from Oblivion. Obviously he's portrayed by the same guy, but he's actually famous in this story! I just love him. He's my bae 5eva.

Hope you enjoyed this!

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