October.
"This is fucking ridiculous." Michael groaned, plopping down on the white, squeaky bed of our hotel room. "Fucking. Ridiculous. Do you hear me? Tell me again why we're in a hotel room?"
I shrugged, trying to hide the fact that my stomach was exploding with so many emotions as of now. I was tired, seeing that it was almost twelve in the morning here in Vancouver, not to mention that I was in the same city as my parents were. It was all too overwhelming.
"I really don't get why we didn't - oh I don't know, stay at your parents' house, rather than spend money on this?" He turned to his front, spreading his arms on either side of his body. "I'm mad at you for this." I couldn't quite hear what he was saying, because his voice was muffled against the thick duvet.
I pinched my lips together and rocked back and forth on my heels, leaning sideways against the bathroom's doorframe. Then I sighed, kicking off my boots and slowly made my way over to him, jumping on top of his tall frame and nuzzling my face into the fabric on his back, laying parallel to how he was positioned.
"Sorry," I muttered, my hands limp by my sides. "I'm sorry, Michael. Don't be mad at me."
He didn't reply, so I continued.
"Mike," I urged, turning my head so my cheek was against his back. "Michael. I'm just- just scared, okay?"
Still nothing. I sighed in frustration.
"And besides, I don't want to just show up after three years.I just got here. And, it's almost midnight. I need some time. I'm sorry." I propped my head up, my chin meeting the top of his back and he shrieked, squirming from side to side - sending me rolling off the edge of the whole mattress.
I lay on the ground, groaning, as I watch Michael peep out his head from the bed next to me, a childish grin on his face. "I forgive you. Oh, and we can visit them tomorrow. That way, we can get back to New York sooner, and we can finally celebrate your birthday." he sang, sliding off the bed and landing horizontally atop of my stomach.
"Tomorrow?" I wheezed, trying to push him off of me. Asshole.
"Tomorrow. Either that, or right now. You still know the address?" he asked, rolling off of me and bumping into the table's leg.
I gulped, the realization hitting me that I was going to see my fucking parents tomorrow, after three years of MIA. Oh my God.
"Yes." I reply meekly, shutting my eyes and taking deep breaths. Holy shit, I thought to myself. This is fucking happening.
"Okay okay," Michael exclaimed, reaching for my arms and pulling me up - not before embracing me in a warm hug. "'M sorry for ignoring you for like, thirty seconds."
I just smile, pulling away and get ready for whatever 'smart concept' he has planned out this time.
"We should practice what you're going to say to your parents. I'll be your mum - even though I've never met her before." He cleared his throat, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths as he waved his hands in different motions, while I eyed him skeptically. "What?" he shrugged, "I'm tryna' get in the zone."
I stayed quiet, hoping that I'll somehow get over it. Then, Michael stood up straight, changing his composure completely, pursing his lips while making rings of his hands and sticking the pinkies out.
"Why, hello there, my daughter, you. How-"
"Michael, I'm not British."
"Well, you described her basically as a snotty Queen of England. Is that complaining, I hear?" He cupped his ear and I jutted my jaw out, resisting to talk back.
