"Milana is real!" Ashton giggled, throwing his hands up in the air before tumbling to the floor, his glasses falling off. Ashton rarely wore his glasses, so I almost forgot he had them. He looked less like a really hot model and more like a human boy but a very cute one.
"Praise!" Calum clapped like a gentleman, nodding his head like he was satisfied.
"It's preach, dumbass." Ashton corrected before blushing and covering his mouth at the terrible word.
"Milana gives me life." Luke said through a mouthful of Wheat Thins he found in Michael's kitchen cupboards. We were all at Michael's for their band practice, but one of his guitar strings broke and he went out to get a replacement.
You see, he still doesn't know I own a perfectly good guitar 14 steps away.
God, I loved saying that. Someone I loved very much lived in the apartment above mine. And it wasn't like we weren't always at eachother's place. But the best part of it all? He loved me too.
"You guys are like fangirls, I swear." I blushed. Michael and I had been together for almost a month but the other boys still acted like we just got together.
"OTP." Calum put up two peace signs and gave me a big smile that showed all his teeth.
"Oh, god." I rolled my eyes at him. "Why do you even know tha-" I stopped abruptly, turning my head to the side to sneeze.
"Drink some tea, Lana." I heard a familiar voice say behind me and a door swing shut. I turned in my stool at the kitchen counter to see Michael kicking off his shoes and fixing his blonde hair.
Yes, Michael now had blonde hair. We dyed it last week. It wasn't his natural blonde color. It was much lighter. And it was for us. So far, Michael has had four different hair colors since I've known him, including this one. And each time he's dyed it has signaled something new for us. The reason Michael wanted blonde, but not the way it was because as he put it, I've given him a chance to "start over."
"Luke, can you do it?" Michael tossed Luke the small package with the guitar string and giving him a look.
"Yeah, sure." Luke plucked the pack out of the air and dusted his hands off on the front of his flannel before swallowing the crackers and heading into the living room.
But he didn't leave without throwing Michael a knowing, cheeky grin.
Michael either chose to ignore Luke or didn't see it at all as he walked over to the cupboards and grabbing a mug, honey, and one of the billion tea bags he bought when I got sick. Michael must have gotten a year's supply worth to split between our apartments so that whether we were at his place or mine, we'd always have quick access to the tea to help my sore throat. He insisted it was to save my singing voice, but I was pretty sure Michael just aquired a taste for tea.
I hopped off my stool and walked to his side of the counter, sitting on top to watch Michael as he heated the water and then placed the bag in. He turned back to me, adding honey and stirring it in. Michael stood between my legs and handed me the mug, covering my hands with his and warming them up.
"I buy you, like, a thousand things of tea, and you rarely make your own. I thought you liked tea?" Michael pouted, leaning his forehead against mine, his blonde hair brushing lightly against my skin.
"I do," I shrugged nonchalanlty. "But I like it when you make it."
"Why is that?" Michael raised his eyebrows.
"So I don't have to to." I smirked and Michael rolled his eyes. He took his hands off mine to cup my cheeks and leaned in. I brought the mug up between our faces, stopping him.
